CHAPTER 43
“Dee Dee you have a call on line three.”
“Thank you, Beverly,” Dee Dee said, picking up the phone.
“This is Dee Dee.”
“Hi, Dee Dee. Patricia Hegel with Wake Up Houston?”
“Oh, yes, Patricia, how are you?”
“Better now that we’ve booked your replacement for the show. Listen, thanks again for recommending Shear Happiness. They’ve been working out beautifully.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yes, we received the e-mail and the letter last week. I’m sorry our show didn’t fit your parameters, but we are a hit TV show, and if we don’t fit your guidelines, we’ll definitely fit someone else’s,” Patricia said, her voice laced with arrogance.
“This must be some mistake,” Dee Dee said, her heart pounding in her ears.
“Well, it can’t be a mistake. When I called yesterday…”
“Who did you talk to?”
“Um…let me check…yes, it was Theresa. Theresa McArthur, the same person who sent the e-mail and the letter.”
Dee Dee could feel her blood pressure shoot up. Breathe, just breathe. I’m not gonna have a stroke over this.
“Hello? Dee Dee? You still there?”
“Yes, I’m here. I’m sorry, I was off in thought. Listen, Patricia, we need to talk. I never authorized Theresa to write that letter. As far as I knew, we were still having a meeting Thursday to go over the schedule.”
“I don’t understand. Why would Theresa send such a letter?”
“I haven’t a clue,” Dee Dee said, smoothing the hair at the nape of her neck.
“Well, I’m sorry Dee Dee, truly I am,” Patricia said, her tone softening. “But I’ve already shown the letter to the other producers, and we’ve booked another salon. I’m really sorry, Dee Dee.”
No, you’re not sorry. But I know someone who will be.
“That’s quite all right, Patricia. My apologies for this misunderstanding, and please consider our salon for a future show.”
“Will do.”
Dee Dee hung up. She felt like all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. It was hard to breathe. I’m going to kill Theresa. What kind of game was she playing? Did she actually think she was going to get away with trying to destroy my business?
She closed her eyes tightly, trying to block out the light in the room. She felt a migraine coming on. She wanted to go home but knew that Jonathan was off today, and she didn’t want to see him. He would just remind her of everything she’d lost and give her another migraine.
She pressed the intercom button on her phone.
“Yes?” Beverly said.
“Send Theresa to my office. Now.”
“Right away, ma’am.”
It was time to deal with this girl face-to-face.
* * *
“Good morning, Jose,” Yolanda said, walking toward the front entrance of the salon.
He stopped cleaning the tall glass window and nodded.
She paused at the front door to see if he was going to open it.
He didn’t. Instead, he kept cleaning the windows, pretending not to notice her.
“Thanks for being such a gentleman,” she said sarcastically. “I thought you were supposed to open the door for a lady?”
“When I see lady, I open door,” Jose said, in his thick accent.
Jerk. She opened the door herself.
She immediately noticed Maxwell at the front desk talking to Karen, the receptionist. She had been hoping to keep busy around the salon floor all day and stay out of her office as long as necessary. She was still feeling uncomfortable about their date fiasco over the weekend. She didn’t know how to act.
Should I play it cool and act like what he did didn’t bother me? Or maybe give him a piece of my mind and tell him to leave me alone? Maybe he won’t notice me. I could just sneak on by…
“Yolanda!” Maxwell called out, waving her over.
She hesitated, then walked over, a smile plastered on her face.
“Yes?”
“Dee Dee has called an emergency staff meeting in twenty minutes.”
“Why?”
“She fired Theresa,” Karen said.
“What?” Yolanda said, looking at Maxwell for confirmation.
“It’s true. Did it this morning.”
“Why?”
“I can’t go into details before the meeting,” Maxwell said.
“She wrote some letter to that show, Wake Up Houston,” Karen said. “Wrote that Behave didn’t want to be on it.”
“Is she crazy?”
“Yeah, girl! People down here are sayin’…”
“Ladies, ladies, could we gossip some other time?”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Karen said, busying herself on the computer.
“We need to talk,” Maxwell whispered.
“Really? What about?”
“About what happened this weekend.”
Karen coughed, letting them know that she was there, and listening.
Maxwell pulled Yolanda to a quiet corner of the salon.
“What happened?” he asked quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“Why did you leave like that? I waited for you.”
“But you didn’t look for me.”
“How would you know that? I looked all over for you.”
“You didn’t look outside.”
“That’s because it didn’t occur to me that you had left.”
“Well, what was I supposed to do? Keep watching you and your ex-girlfriend flirt? I’ve got better things to do.”
“Who told you Theresa was my ex-girlfriend?”
“Nobody,” Yolanda lied. “It’s obvious by the way you two talk to each other.”
“Look, I don’t want to argue with you. I really want to make things right.”
“How? By taking me out again and ignoring me? No thanks. If you’re looking for another notch on your belt, you’ve got the wrong girl,” Yolanda spat.
He stepped back, stung by Yolanda’s words.
“I’m not like that. I’m not that type of guy.”
“Really? Well, what type are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“What are you doing with me? One minute you’re hot, then you’re cold. I just don’t get you sometimes.”
“I’m sorry,” Maxwell said, looking at Yolanda intently. “I wasn’t trying to confuse you. I just need some time to figure out what I want.”
“What you want, or who you want?”
“Both.”
She looked down.
At least he’s honest.
“Look, me and Theresa have a lot of history, but it’s over. I just needed to know for sure.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
“That’s none of your business.”
She felt stupid for even asking, but she wanted to know where she stood with him.
“I don’t know what you want, Yolanda. I cannot give you a relationship. But I definitely still want to kick it with you.”
Kick it? What did that mean? Are we friends or something more? I’m not gonna push the issue. I’m fortunate that he’s even talking to me.
She sighed and decided to leave things as they were, and not to complain.
“All right,” she said.
“I want you to come over and let me cook for you.”
“You? Cook?” she said, laughing.
“What? You don’t think a brotha can cook? Don’t be fooled by this suit, I can throw down.”
“Oh, really?” Yolanda said, intrigued.
“Yes, really. So come over tonight and let me cook something and we can talk. No distractions, no interruptions, just you and me.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Around eight?”
“I’ll be there.”
He smiled boyishly and walked away, leaving Yolanda on cloud nine.
She walked upstairs to her office, mentally dissecting her wardrobe at home, trying to figure out what to wear.
When Yolanda reached her floor, she heard a racket coming from Theresa’s office, which was across from hers. She looked over and saw Theresa slamming, tossing, throwing personal items into a large cardboard box. Even from a distance, one could see that she had been crying; her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. Yolanda felt a twinge of pity for her. But when Theresa looked up and saw her staring, she went to the door and slammed it shut.