CHAPTER 19

Yolanda pulled into Behave’s circular drive and got out, handing Marco, the valet, the keys.

“Morning, Yolanda. How’s it going?”

“Great. Hot out here, huh?”

“Yeah, but I don’t mind. I turn on the air conditioning when I park the cars,” he said, speeding away and parking in Yolanda’s new reserved parking spot in the garage.

Yolanda still couldn’t believe how quickly everything had changed. Here she was getting valet parking on her first morning as salon assistant manager. She was on her way to her first staff meeting, and her mind was like a dry sponge, eager to get wet and thirsty to learn how to run a megasalon like Behave so efficiently.

She walked up the cobblestone driveway, her low heels clicking on the hot stone. She saw Jose, the handyman, tinkering with the fountain in front of the salon.

“Good morning, Jose.”

Wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, Jose looked up and nodded in her direction.

Well, I guess some things never change, Yolanda thought, walking up the steps to the front entrance of the salon. Since she started at Behave six years ago, Jose might have mumbled ‘hello’ twice.

She inhaled the scent of lavender and honeysuckle, intensified by Houston’s heavy heat, from the potted topiaries lining the steps to the salon. She pulled open the heavy, intricately designed wrought-iron door and was instantly greeted by Karen, one of the receptionists.

“Good morning, Miss Peterson, did you have a good weekend?” Karen asked, smiling widely.

“Yeah, it was pretty good. And yours?”

“It was okay. Just tried to stay cool,” Karen said, picking up the ringing phone.

Yolanda ran into Jackie at the elevators.

“Morning, Jackie.”

“Morning, Yolanda. You on your way up?”

“Yes, first day, remember?”

“That’s right,” she said, as they stepped onto the elevator.

“How do you feel? Nervous?”

“Actually, I feel pretty good. Any advice?”

They stepped out of the elevator and went to the café. She had told Jackie she wasn’t nervous, but her stomach kept doing flip-flops. She didn’t want to ruin her first meeting by barfing on everyone, so she thought something light to eat would settle her nerves.

“You don’t need any advice. You’re going to do just fine. Don’t ever be late, though; Dee Dee doesn’t accept tardiness,” Jackie said, her voice bright as a summer’s day.

“Not for you though, right? You could probably miss a meeting and your mama wouldn’t fuss.”

“Excuse me? My mama? Don’t get it twisted. I’m treated just the same in this salon as everyone else. I don’t get any special treatment from Dee Dee. Never have, never will,” Jackie said, her voice harder.

“I’m sorry, I was just—”

“Don’t worry about it!” Jackie said, her smile returning. “What are you going to get?”

“Um, I don’t know…”

“I’ll just have a large black coffee,” Jackie said, sliding her staff card through the electronic scanner. Everyone on staff had an extra perk by having member cards so they didn’t have to pay a dime for food or anything they might need during the day. Stylists and other employees were given deep discounts, but nothing was free.

“And for you, ma’am?” the server asked, turning to Yolanda.

“I’ll have two large bagels with cream cheese.”

Smiling, he told her to ‘have a nice day’, and handed her a crisp white bag with the salon’s logo, a beautiful woman cracking a whip over someone’s hair to make it Behave.

“You eat? Man, looking at you I would have thought you skipped almost all your meals!”

Jackie laughed, but Yolanda didn’t.

“You have a pretty fast metabolism, huh?”

“I guess.”

“You want me to wait for you while you eat? We could go to the meeting together. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

“Um, no thanks. I think I’ve met everyone. Besides, I have to clue my assistant, Megan, in on some last things about my clients.”

“You mean her clients?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, I mean her clients.”

“It feels weird, doesn’t it?” Jackie asked.

“What does?”

“Giving up one dream for another.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Don’t worry, everybody felt that way one time or another.”

“Did you?” Yolanda questioned.

Jackie frowned. “Yes, even me,” she said tightly. “Especially me,” she added, walking away.

* * *

Yolanda walked into Dee Dee’s office and immediately wanted to run out. Everyone was clustered in small groups together, and although she knew most of the people, there were still a few she wasn’t quite familiar with. She regretted not accepting Jackie’s offer to introduce her to everyone. Determined, she walked up to one of the receptionists, Michelle.

“Hey!” Michelle said, her Southern twang a comfort to Yolanda’s ears. “Congrats on your promotion! I know you’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“I know, I still can’t believe I’m here.”

“Have you met everyone?” Michelle asked.

“Um…I think so except…Is that Theresa talking to Maxwell in the corner?” Yolanda asked, instantly jealous.

“Yeah. She’s been filling in for Sheila ever since she left.”

“I thought she was out of town?”

“She came back yesterday.”

She watched Maxwell and Theresa talking. Theresa was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. Her Behave business suit hugged her curves. That wasn’t a surprise; the girl could wear overalls and her body would curve its way through the denim. Yolanda knew all the squats in the world wouldn’t give her a quarter of what Theresa had. She watched Theresa laugh at something Maxwell said and toss her long sandy-brown hair behind her ears. Please let it be a weave. Let me have something over her.

She watched Theresa run her fingers through it and saw golden-blonde highlights throughout, and knew from all her styling experience that it was all hers. Every strand of it. Her brown almond-shaped eyes sparkled behind long, sooty lashes. When she smiled Yolanda saw a perfect row of white teeth.

“Is something wrong?” Michelle asked.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, you just had a funny look on your face.”

“I was just wondering…” Does Maxwell like that light-skinned beauty? Do I still have a chance? “…wondering if this Theresa girl is gonna be the new creative director?”

“Girl, no,” Michelle said, laughing. “Everyone knows it’s gonna be Jackie.”

“Why Jackie?” Yolanda asked.

“Well, for one, she’s Dee Dee’s daughter; for two, she’s Dee Dee’s daughter for three…”

“She’s Dee Dee’s daughter,” Yolanda added.

“You’re a quick one. Yeah, Jackie knows she’s a shoe-in. Must be nice.”

“Why?”

“As creative director you start off with six figures a year, you get a company car, a Benz no less, and an expense account. I mean the list goes on and on.”

“The low six figures, right?” Yolanda asked.

“Try again, sista. Come on, you need to meet Theresa. It’s about time y’all get formally introduced.”

“Um…wait…maybe we should do it after…”

“After what? The meeting?”

“Yeah.”

“Dee Dee’s on the phone on a conference call. We have at least ten more minutes. Come on.”

Michelle grabbed Yolanda’s hand and dragged her to where Maxwell and Theresa were standing.

“Hey! Y’all met Yolanda yet? She’s new to staff,” Michelle said loudly.

Yolanda watched Theresa’s light brown eyes give her the once-over.

“We’ve spoken on occasion,” Theresa said, her voice hard and clipped.

Yolanda looked at Maxwell for an introduction. He looked at her and then looked down, suddenly interested in his expensive alligator shoes.

“Theresa, this is Yolanda Peterson, our new assistant manager,” Michelle said, stepping in. “Yolanda, this is Theresa McArthur.”

“Nice to meet you,” Yolanda said, extending her hand.

Theresa hesitated, looking at Yolanda’s outstretched hand. She gave her a weak handshake, then dropped it quickly, as if she might catch some horrible disease.

“Nice shirt, girl. Is it new?” Michelle asked, admiring Theresa’s Versace shirt.

“Yeah, I got it last week.”

“Where did you get it from?” Yolanda asked, trying to get in the conversation.

“Why?” Theresa asked.

“I don’t know…I was just asking…”

“Listen, Yoranda…”

“It’s Yolanda.”

“Yolanda, Yoranda, whatever. I got this shirt at a place that designs for a woman’s body.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yolanda said, her voice rising from embarrassment.

“It means, boo, that you have the body of a teenage…”

“Don’t, Theresa,” Maxwell said, trying to cut her off.

“…a teenage boy,” Theresa said.

“That’s enough,” Maxwell said.

It was enough. Enough for Yolanda to feel the sting of hot tears behind her eyes. Theresa gave Yolanda a long, hard look and walked away. Maxwell followed close behind her.

“What was that all about?” Michelle asked.

“I don’t know,” Yolanda croaked, willing her tears not to fall.

“I thought you said you hadn’t met her before?”

“We have, I just haven’t talked to her. Not really, anyway.”

“She has got it in for you.”

“I don’t know why.”

“You better find out. Theresa can be…”

“A witch?”

“Well, at least you didn’t cuss. You know how Dee Dee feels about cussin’. She won’t tolerate any bad words, and you don’t even want to know what she does if she ever catches you using one.” Michelle paused and looked off into the distance. “Take it from me, you don’t want to get on Theresa’s bad side, especially this early in the game. She can make your life hard. Real hard.” She coughed, and looked back at Yolanda. “Find out what’s eating her and resolve it. And quick.”

Yolanda nodded, well aware that she should take Michelle’s advice very seriously.

“The meeting is about to start,” Michelle said. “Come on.”

She followed Michelle through a wide oak door leading to the conference room that joined the two spaces. The conference room was in sharp contrast to Dee Dee’s office. Where her office was light and serene, this room was dark and impressive. A long, oval ebony table engulfed the center of the room. It could have easily seated twenty or more people, Yolanda guessed. The walls were in different tones of brown, a plastered effect that gave them a rich finish that no paint brush could duplicate.

She followed Michelle and took a seat next to her, then she noticed the disapproving glance Maxwell gave her, so she moved to the seat next to him.

“This was Theresa’s old seat, now it’s yours,” he said.

After the run-in with Theresa she didn’t like sitting in anything that had once belonged to her, even if it meant not sitting next to Maxwell.

“You okay?” he whispered, swallowing the last bit of the cinnamon mint he’d been sucking on.

“I’m fine.”

“Sorry about all that. She’s not usually like that.”

“It’s okay,” Yolanda said, smiling and trying to pretend Theresa’s words hadn’t stung.

“It’s just that—” Maxwell began, but was interrupted when Dee Dee appeared.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen,” Dee Dee said, walking over to her chair in a manner befitting a regal queen.

“Morning,” everyone said in unison—like fifth graders responding to their teacher.

“I’m sorry about the delay; I had a very important business call. I trust everyone slept well?” Dee Dee said to no one in particular while scanning a black folder.

Everyone nodded or said yes.

“Good, good. Unfortunately, I’ll have to cut this meeting short. I’m expecting another phone call in twenty minutes.”

She went around the room asking questions relevant to this or that department: Were retail sales up? How was salon morale this week? Is our fall advertising campaign up to par? Was the new product line going to be ready by winter? And on and on it went until she came to Yolanda, who had been busy taking notes and trying to absorb everything.

“Okay, everyone, in case you didn’t already know, we have a new assistant manager, Miss Yolanda Peterson,” Dee Dee said, clapping.

Everyone clapped and gave her warm smiles. Everyone except Theresa. She yawned and looked at her flawless French manicure.

“Yolanda, why don’t you stand and tell us a little bit about yourself and some of your objectives,” Dee Dee said.

Was she for real? Oh, please don’t tell me I have to do this high-school crap…

“You do know what your objectives are, don’t you?” Dee Dee asked.

“Yes, of course,” Yolanda said, standing and smoothing her suit jacket.

“Well, tell us. We’re all dying to know,” Theresa said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

Yolanda ignored her and tried to think of something clever to say. “Um…Well, my name is Yolanda Peterson. I’m twenty-nine years old and one of my objectives is to…”…kill Theresa, kill Theresa…“…to make Maxwell’s job easier by assisting him in every way possible,” Yolanda said and sat down.

“Very good. Well, I’m afraid our time is up,” Dee Dee said, standing. “Everyone have a wonderful day. Michelle, please follow me; there are a few things I need to discuss with you about our front-desk procedures.”

And just like that, the meeting was over. Yolanda never felt so relieved. She organized her notes, trying to stay next to Maxwell a little while longer.

“So Maxwell,” Theresa said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “we all still invited to Ray’s tonight?”

“Yeah, but you don’t need an invitation; everyone’s welcome,” Maxwell said.

“Well, I don’t know about everyone,” Theresa said, looking directly at Yolanda. “Your father doesn’t take kindly to strange faces.”

Hurt by Theresa’s cruel remarks, Yolanda looked at Maxwell, desperately wanting him to invite her to his father’s restaurant so she could show Theresa that she had every right to be there, that she belonged. But the invitation never came. And as the conversation swirled around her about how live the restaurant was on Saturday night and how much fun they were gonna have, she got up and left.