I sat at my desk staring at the card. Dr. Marcella Spencer, a psychiatrist. Was I ready for that? There had been so many years of questioning. So many blackouts. So much pain.
Darnetta poked her head into my office. “What’s up, girl? Can I come in?”
I put the card under my desk pad out of her view. “Sure, I have a moment.”
“How’s business?” Darnetta asked as she sat down opposite me at the desk.
“Better.”
“Thank goodness, because Boss Man has been walking around here beet-red like he might croak any second.”
I laughed. “He’ll survive. All businesses have slow periods but things are picking up.”
Darnetta worked in Accounts Receivable and was very good at collections. I often wondered if people just agreed to pay us so they wouldn’t have to listen to her squeaky voice over the phone anymore.
“Well, I’m glad we’re shipping more product because he’s really been on those of us over in my department about closing out past due invoices. You would’ve thought his house was about to go into foreclosure or something.”
“Trust me when I say that Mr. Wilson has no problem paying his bills. It’s his staff members that have to pinch pennies.”
“Speaking of which, have you heard anything about raise reviews coming up?”
“No, he’ll probably pull that old ‘We’ll show our appreciation with Christmas bonuses’ routine.”
Darnetta said, “He’s such a joy.”
We both laughed.
“So, Jon, you remember what you told me?”
“About what?”
“The next time I ask you to go someplace.”
I sighed deeply, not wanting to imagine what would come out of her mouth next. “Yes, I remember.”
“Good, because Logan’s in a wedding next weekend and I refuse to sit in the pews alone while he stands up for one of his immature, silly little friends. I need someone to keep me company. So how about it?”
She knew she had me. I’d already made a promise. “What time and where?”
Darnetta snickered with delight. “The wedding is Saturday at four, downtown, and I’ll pick you up at three. Cool?”
“Sounds like a winner,” I lied.
“Great!” Darnetta jumped up and headed for the door. “Well, I’m about to go enjoy what’s left of my lunch hour. I can’t believe in this day and time we still have to punch time clocks. That is so primal.”
I couldn’t help but agree. “I know. It doesn’t make sense, but Mr. Wilson is old-fashioned in many ways.”
“No, he’s just plain old. What is he? About a hundred ninety?”
I chuckled. “You better watch yourself. I wouldn’t put hidden cameras in the walls past him.”
Darnetta eyed the walls, taking me seriously.
“You can relax. He’s too cheap to invest in them.”
“Whew, you had me going for a second. Catch you later.”
“Later.”
After she was safely down the hall, I closed my office door, went back to my desk, and retrieved the card from under the desk pad. “Dr. Marcella Spencer, can you really help me?”
I picked up the phone and called to make an appointment.
When I got home, I noticed a U-Haul truck in the parking lot of the complex and wondered if the vacant apartment below me had finally been rented out. There were some college kids living there but they’d broken the lease and moved to the Georgia Tech campus. Thank goodness, because their loud rock music was raking on my nerves.
I was on the second floor landing, not paying attention to where I was going because I was searching through my purse for some Tylenol to take the second I could grab a cup of water to wash it down, when I bumped right into the backend of a floor model television. I stubbed my toe, the same one I’m always prone to banging against something, and yelled out in pain.
A man appeared in the doorway of 2-D. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to have this thing out in the hallway so long.”
I just stared at him. I tried to say something but I’m not even sure I was actually breathing. He was…He was…
“Excuse me, Miss. Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I finally managed to say. “I just hit my toe.”
“Well, toes can be the source of much pain,” he said jokingly.
I forced a smile. “True.”
I walked around the television and headed for the stairs leading to the third floor, my floor.
“I’m Mason. Mason Copeland.”
“Moving in?”
“Yes. I just decided to check out Atlanta for a while. I’m originally from D.C.—the Chocolate City.”
“That’s cool. I used to live in Philadelphia when I first graduated from college.” I don’t know why I asked the next question but I did. “Is your wife home? I’d like to meet her.”
“Wife? No, I’m single.” He grinned at me and added, “Single and extremely available and accessible.”
I cleared my throat. “Well, with all the female singles around here, you won’t be for long.”
“Are you one of the female singles around here?”
I couldn’t prevent the blush. “Um, yeah. I guess so.”
“Name?”
“Jonquinette Pierce.”
“Jonquinette Pierce. Beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”
Another blush. “Thanks, but I really have to go.”
I started up the steps.
“Jonquinette?”
I turned and saw his head over the railing.
“Yes?”
“Maybe you can help me get settled in. Aren’t neighbors supposed to greet newbies with a pound cake, or a pecan pie, or something?”
I giggled. “I’m not a baker. I can’t even make toast without burning it.”
He frowned and then laughed. “There’s always store-bought.”
“Now that’s a thought.”
I hurried the rest of the way to my apartment. My headache really was tormenting me and I just wanted to take something for it and lie down.
Mason Copeland, huh? I didn’t even think so. I just knew that Jon would haul ass the way she always did whenever a man said something to her. How dare she actually flirt with him? I wouldn’t have that nonsense. No way.
Granted, the man looked good. Damn good. If I saw a brotha with honey-almond skin, hazel eyes, and dreads, someplace inconspicuous, it would definitely be on. But this Mason, hunk or not, lived right below us and that shit was out of the question. No serious relationships. Just sex and I was the only one entitled to that. Jon was really tripping lately. First calling up that shrink bitch’s office. Now she was holding actual conversations with men. Something had to be done. Something would be done. I’d worked too hard for control and I’d do whatever it took to keep things just the way they were.
