Just Lunch
“Well, when will he be in?” I kept the phone pressed tightly against my ear. “Ah huh, ah huh. Yes, thank you . . . no that’s quite all right, I’ve already left three messages. I don’t want to make it four.”
The receptionist gave a small laugh in response to what she took as a joke. I’d been trying to reach Tyson all week. I didn’t quite know what I was going to say when I got my chance. I was lingering on a hope that he might be able to show me light at the end of the tunnel. He definitely saw my skills when I pitched to him a week ago. But coming out and asking him for a job, and explaining the mess left at Donnely Kramer, would take an abundance of tact and finesse.
I picked the phone up before the end of the first ring.
“Venus Johnston.” I hadn’t let go of my professionalism just because I was sitting at home in cotton sweats.
“Venus, I hear you’re trying to get a hold of me in a bad way.” He gave a faint chuckle, but then turned serious. “How can I help you?”
“Tyson, I’m on vacation so I didn’t know if you had come in looking for me. You know, to go over some of the things we had talked about.”
“Well, actually, I haven’t been able to make it back over there all week. I made a tentative appointment with those two, John and the other . . .” he paused, “Lenny on Monday. You have my word that I will speak highly of you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that, but what I really wanted to know is if you had time for another great rap session. Lunch will be on me this time.” As if that would be a deciding factor. Any restaurant I could afford was going to look like Denny’s compared with his usual haunts.
“I wish I had time. I have so many things going on right now.”
“It’ll be worth your while, Tyson. Please. A quick bite. Everyone has to eat. And I know you’re not the type that eats on the run. Those ties cost way too much to be dripping secret sauce on ’em.”
He belted out a strong laugh. Done.
“All right. How about Wednesday?”
“That’s so far away.” I crossed my legs and sat up straight. It was better to get into my role. I stared up in the air to forget about the gray sweats and dirty socks I’d slept in and worn for the past two days. “Can’t you make it sooner? Wherever your next meeting is today, this afternoon, I can meet you.” I held my breath.
“Venus, has anyone ever told you, you’d make a hell of a salesperson?”
“No, but I’ve been told I can’t take no for an answer.”
Again, the healthy laugh. I envisioned his pearly whites lined neatly against his prominently shaped lips, eyes turned into little slits.
“All right, all right, enough. I’ll meet you at Hunan’s, it’s across the street from the MCI center. Two o’clock. And Ms. Johnston,” his voice got a little deeper. “Don’t forget your promise to make this meeting worthwhile, for both of us,” he added, hanging up before I could respond.
I parked a couple of blocks down. My taupe-colored Kenneth Cole suit made me look and feel like a million bucks and I didn’t want the image ruined by stepping out of my two-toned, gray and rust Hyundai. I walked with care in my leather pumps around the melting ice. It was definitely a day for snow boots and it was way too cold to be out without a coat made with some kind of insulation, but I didn’t want to hide what little I had going for me. I saw his white sports Jaguar parked out front.
I walked in and spotted him immediately. The waitress was flirting. She gave a surprised sneer when I stopped directly in front of Tyson’s table, as if to say, “this, this is what you’re waiting for.” I wish I had a dollar for every woman with half a body and a little hair who thought they were better than me. Was it some kind of preprogrammed ignorance that said, a woman with hair was more of a woman than one without? The war of the haves and the have-nots played out silently, only it wasn’t about class and money, it was about the symbolism of the sprouts growing out of our heads. I suddenly remembered being chased home from school by a knotty-head little dark girl who told me I thought I was too good and stuck up because of my long lustrous ponytails. I wondered what she would think of me now. Would I be accepted into her world, considered “down and cool” because I cut off the one thing that told her I was different?
I responded to the young woman’s disapproving look with my own that said, “yes, and he’s all mine.” Then I smiled shyly at Tyson while he stood like a gentleman and waited for me to be seated.
Of course, he had already taken it upon himself to order for me, too. I couldn’t decide if that was something I would like all of the time. Once the novelty wore off, I’d probably cringe. For now I enjoyed it immensely.
I sat directly across from him. I liked the view. “I’m going to come right out and ask you this, Tyson. Would you hire me? I don’t mean hypothetically. Can I come work for you at St. John’s?”
“This is a shock. I thought you were happy at Donnely Kramer. What happened in such a short time to make you want to defect?”
“It’s a number of things; most importantly, they’re not going to give me the St. John’s account or any other account for that matter. I just know I’m supposed to be doing something else.”
“Something like what?”
“Working for St. John’s.”
“Doing what?”
“I . . . don’t really know exactly where I would fit in, but you know what I’m capable of. I’ve worked in marketing all my professional life. I’ve done PR, research, I’m sure I would be an asset.”
I couldn’t tell when I started feeling like I was begging, but I knew it wasn’t a pretty sight.
“Venus, my company just acquired another line, you know that, right? Do you know how many people we had to cut just to make it work? We let go of some awesome talent because we just couldn’t have our cake and eat it, too. I think we kept maybe five or six people out of a hundred from the new side, and it was a struggle just fitting them in. Until we see a profit off this new acquisition, we’re pretty much strapped. Why do you think we’re outsourcing with Donnely Kramer?” He leaned in closer. “It’s not because we think they’re the best thing since Laurel and Hardy, I’ll tell you that. We simply can’t afford to house full-time people right now. We get in, they put out, and we’re on our way.”
The whole time he was speaking to me, I could hear the tiny fella on my shoulder telling me to just slide in on his side of the booth and make promises I couldn’t keep, if he’d just give me a shot. I heard the part about not being able to afford a full-time staff, but one person. I don’t take up that much room, and for the input, he’d get his return.
“I see. I do understand, Tyson. But you know I can’t take no for an answer. You know that, right?”
“That’s something we have in common, Ms. Johnston. Since that’s the case, I’m going to give you another number where you can reach me without going through the systematic channels.” He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a gold pen. He wrote down the number on the back of his card and slid it to me.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a voice mail, but I check it regularly. Mostly for private calls.” He gave me a knowing smile.
“I see.” I said as I pushed it into my wallet. I took another sip of the plum wine.
“I’ve managed to clear my schedule for the rest of the afternoon,” he said.
The waitress brought over the grilled shrimp and full grain rice. My stomach started talking to me. I didn’t know if it was the smell of the garlic and sesame arousing my senses, or the little guy in there shouting, get ready, alert, trouble ahead.
“Today? This afternoon, you mean? I wish I’d known. I wouldn’t have set up the other appointments I made for this afternoon.” I looked at my wrist where I’d forgotten to strap on my watch.
“Maybe next time, then.” His mood was not affected by my rejection. My nervousness seemed to thrill him. He refilled our glasses with the dark sweet wine.
I ate greedily, determined to ignore the rumbling in my stomach. Look out, trouble ahead.