Back to Me (6 page)

“Way to go, ladies! We are on our way!” Paige exclaimed with more excitement than she'd felt in years.

DWAP was officially up and running, and during its first week it had had enough sales to cover production expenses and to purchase more supplies, with a little profit left at the end. The marketing ploy of having the varsity football and basketball players wear the necklaces was ingenious. After one week nearly half of the student body was sporting DWAP originals, and according to the girls, even the geeks were wearing them. Although pleased, Paige wished the idea had been Seniyah's instead of Jasmine's.

“Check this out,” Jasmine said, waving a handful of purple order slips. Another one of Jasmine's ideas. “Purple represents royalty, and DWAP ladies are definitely royals,” she had said while trying to persuade the group to select that color. “I have orders for at least fifty more, and this doesn't include what everyone else has done.”

“Very good, Jasmine. Now you need to work on increasing your orders every week,” Paige told her. Paige wanted to encourage her, but she didn't want to give her a false sense of ease. Running a business was hard work.

Jasmine smacked her lips. “Whatever, Miss Paige.” Paige ignored the teenager's attitude. Jasmine was always angry about something. “Divas, let's hear your reports on how you're doing, and then we can start production and do inventory control.”

For the next twenty minutes, Paige stood in the back of the room while the divas stepped up to the podium individually and reported on their progress and outlined their goals for the following week. Paige felt like a proud mother as she listened to them identify selling opportunities and cost-saving measures. They effectively applied the principles she'd taught them, but what made Paige feel like dancing in the spirit right there in the classroom was their appearance.

During the first meeting, Paige had emphasized how important it was to look professional in the business world. At the time she didn't think the girls were paying attention, but tonight's display proved otherwise. They weren't fans of long skirts and sleeves, but at least the tattoos and body piercings were covered. Most importantly, Jasmine's hair was one color, blue, and it was pulled back and held together by a clip.

Paige squeezed her long frame behind a student desk when her protégé took the podium. That way she wouldn't have to worry about hiding her excitement about Seniyah's brilliant ideas. She couldn't jump up from the small desk if she wanted to. She smiled as Seniyah opened her notebook and began her presentation. She looked confident in the wool coat Paige had given her, although Paige thought it fit more snugly than it should. She'd purchased a larger size purposely to accommodate Seniyah's fuller frame, or so she'd thought. Paige attributed the fit to the thick sweats the girl wore underneath, and then gave Seniyah her full attention. On her next shopping trip, she'd purchase Seniyah some dress slacks.

Within seconds, disappointment couldn't begin to describe how Paige felt. Seniyah spoke with confidence, but her ideas were mediocre at best. Her sales ranked at the bottom, and she didn't have any concrete ideas about how to turn them around. It was then that Paige remembered that Seniyah never did e-mail her that marketing plan from the previous session. Unlike with the rest of the girls, at the end of Seniyah's presentation, the only person clapping was Paige. As her mentor, she had to encourage her.

“Are there any questions or suggestions for Seniyah?” Paige asked the group in hopes of helping Seniyah gain a better grasp of what she was supposed to be doing.

“Ooh, ooh, I have a question,” Jasmine said, waving her hands in the air.

Paige knew this wouldn't turn out well, but she had opened the door and couldn't close it now.

“How much longer do we have to carry her?” Jasmine asked. “It's obvious she don't have a clue about what she's doing.”

“No one asked you to carry me,” Seniyah shot back, uncharacteristically outspoken. “I know what I'm doing. I've just been too busy lately to focus on the project.”

“It's not a project!” Jasmine yelled, silencing the murmuring among the other girls. “It's a business, our business. If we don't believe in it, no one else will. No one is waiting in line to hand us a free ride out of the ghetto like you have. I need this to work. This training and community college may be all I get.”

Jasmine's passion surprised Paige, but she couldn't allow Jasmine to insult Seniyah. Sure, the girl needed to work harder, but Seniyah's family dynamics were quite complicated. “Jasmine, let's not be too hard on Seniyah, just because she applied herself and earned a scholarship,” Paige said, maneuvering from behind the desk and walking to the front of the room. “At least she's trying.”

“And just how do you know?” Jasmine snapped. “She hasn't participated in any of our production sessions on the weekends. And she comes here late and doesn't complete assignments. So unless you know something we don't, just how do you know she's
trying?
”

Paige's steps slowed as she neared the podium to stand next to Seniyah. She'd grown accustomed to dealing with Jasmine's outbursts. Usually they were misguided, but not this time. Paige had assumed Seniyah was now participating in the weekend production sessions, and although she'd arrived earlier than last time, tonight Seniyah was still late. For once Paige didn't have an answer to defend her favorite student. Neither did she like the unassuming expression Seniyah wore.

“Instead of attacking one another,” Paige said, facing the group, “I think we need to come together as a team and work on our weaknesses.” She intended to spend some one-on-one time with Seniyah before the next session.

“We've been doing that,” Jasmine shot back, gesturing toward the rest of the girls. “She's the one who is not acting like a team player,” she added, pointing at Seniyah.

Paige had to regain control before Jasmine convinced the group to vote Seniyah out. One of the rules governing the group was that everyone had to participate, or else they'd be asked to leave the group.

“In any business there are people who work harder than others. However, DWAP's goal is for every member to contribute to its success,” Paige told the girls. “That being said, instead of the regular production session on Saturday, I'm willing to attend and provide training and team-building skills.” She paused and turned to Seniyah. “Everyone must attend.” She faced the group again. “If any issues remain after that, then we'll reevaluate and make any necessary changes as a group.”

In the silence that followed, Paige prayed that Seniyah would get more involved and would lose the nonchalant attitude. She couldn't admit it out loud, but Jasmine was right. Everyone had problems.

“Fine,” Jasmine finally said. “Where do you want to meet?”

Paige exhaled a sigh of relief. “We can meet at my office. I have a conference room. Let's say three o'clock? The address is—”

“We have your card,” Jasmine said, cutting her off, then walked to the production table and started counting beads. The rest of the girls followed, including Seniyah, but at a slower pace.

Paige planned to speak with Seniyah after the other girls left, but as soon as the session ended, Seniyah darted out the door. Paige ran out to the parking lot in hopes of catching her, but the black wool coat was nowhere to be found.

Paige sat in her usual third-row seat during Wednesday night Bible study and wondered if she was still saved. For the first time ever, she couldn't comprehend the words written on the pages of the borrowed book, which was supposed to bring her life. Pastor Drake was an excellent teacher, and the Word of God was powerful, so the problem had to lie within her. She'd allowed other things, namely, Seniyah, to distract her and weigh her down to the point where she couldn't focus on anything else.

Afraid that Jasmine's lack of compassion would diminish what little self-esteem Seniyah had and would cause her to quit DWAP and maybe give up on her dream of attending Stanford, after last night's session, Paige had gone home and had prayed nonstop for the young girl. She'd dozed off several times while on her knees, only to awaken and continue praying. Her body ached so much, she could barely move when her alarm clock sounded this morning. Her fast from caffeine was short-lived. This morning she'd finished off a double espresso in record speed.

Throughout the day, thoughts of Seniyah had distracted her to the point where she forgot to meet clients at the title company to sign the final documents for the purchase of their first home. When the anxious husband called her cell phone, she lied and said she was stuck in traffic. She repented as she left the office and got a speeding ticket en route to the title company. When she finally rushed into the title company, winded, the couple was so angry, they threatened to back out of the deal. It took Paige thirty minutes to calm them down and reassure them of the solid investment they were making. She even threw in a gift card to a home improvement store.

It wasn't until she sat down on the pew in church that she realized she'd left her Bible at home. She routinely kept her Bible inside her briefcase so she wouldn't forget it. Now she missed Pastor Drake's teaching on being an effective light to the world. She had checked out right after the topic appeared on the screen, because thoughts of how she was lighting the way for Seniyah's future had consumed her.

Without a doubt Paige knew it was her responsibility to give Seniyah a better life. She didn't believe in luck or happenstance. If it weren't God's will for her to help Seniyah, He wouldn't have placed the girl in her life the way he had. Seniyah needed what Paige had to offer: she could teach her how to present herself as a respectable young woman and how to succeed in school, and whenever the opportunity presented itself, Paige would teach her about the Lord. She had to dig deeper and discover what was going on with the girl. Seniyah was her assignment, and Paige would see to it that she didn't become another statistic.

When Pastor Drake asked the audience if they had any questions, Paige closed the Bible and placed it back on the pew in front of her and left before the benediction. Another first for her, but she needed to map out a plan and maybe get some sleep.

 

 

Paige sang and danced from room to room as she cleaned her house. It was indeed a day the Lord had made, and she was determined to be glad and rejoice. After two mentally and physically draining days, Paige had skipped the Friday all-night prayer session and had soothed her tired muscles in a hot bubble bath, then had collapsed onto her bed and fallen into a coma-like sleep. She'd slept so well, she didn't change positions until her alarm sounded at 8:00 a.m. She'd got up without pressing the snooze button, and after brewing a cup of Columbian coffee in her Keurig, she'd turned on the sound system and started her weekly chores. Living alone and being a neat freak made the task easy. By nine thirty the dust had been wiped away, the clothes had been washed and sorted for dry cleaning, and the Pergo floor had been dust mopped. She had just enough time left to shower and get to the food bank on time.

The clear blue sky didn't deceive her today. The thermostat inside her Lexus registered sixty-nine degrees, perfect for jeans and a scoop-neck tunic. Paige's wardrobe consisted of dark, conservative colors, like brown, black, and navy blue, and an abundance of white blouses. She was content in believing that dressing modestly was an outward sign of her inner commitment to God. As a result, Paige's skirts stopped mid-calf, and her sleeves hit near the wrist. Tank tops, shorts, and open-toe shoes were out of the question.

Her mother thought Paige would die an old maid because of her style, and she made a point to tell Paige that every chance she got. “It's a good thing I'm around. Otherwise, a man wouldn't be able to see what he's getting, since you cover everything up,” she would say. “A man can tell how his woman will look in the future by how her mother looks.” Her mother would then pose to display her full breasts, tiny waist, and voluptuous hips. “You better learn to use what your mama gave you before you get too old.” If only her mother knew that using what her mama gave her was what had gotten Paige into trouble in the first place.

Paige had grown numb to her mother's musings, until today. For some reason, the black jeans and brown sweater didn't suffice. Maybe she should consider adding more style to her life, she thought.
But why?
she asked herself. Due to her past mistake, no viable suitors were on the horizon. More than likely her mother's prediction would come to pass—she'd die an old maid.

“No, I'm not going there today,” she mumbled as she turned into the food bank's parking lot. “It's a beautiful day, and I will enjoy it, even if I am miserable.” She started singing as she climbed out of her car and mechanically set out to perform her Christian duty.

“Good morning, Paige.”

Her Nikes hadn't touched the pavement three times before the stimulating, and yet irritating, voice interrupted her singing. Sergio-Xavier. She hadn't seen him since the morning she took him on as a client, but they had an appointment for Tuesday afternoon. At that moment, she didn't want to see him, but she also didn't want to lose a client. With a manufactured smile, she turned in the direction of his voice.

“Hello . . .” She let the rest of the greeting hang while studying his physique, which she tried unsuccessfully to ignore. Sergio-Xavier was over six feet tall, and his body was well proportioned and toned. Although he wore a polo shirt and black jeans, she had visions of the biceps and quadriceps underneath.

“Too holy to speak this morning, are we?”

His cocky response snapped her from the trance. “I didn't expect to see you out here,” she said, referring to him unloading the supply truck. “Actually, I didn't expect to see you at all today.”

“Why not?”

She thought it was a rhetorical question until he set the box on the ground and folded his arms, as if waiting for an answer.

“Well, at the risk of saying something stupid, as you put it . . .” He arched an eyebrow but didn't rebut the dig. “I didn't think unloading an eighteen-wheeler was something a lead neurologist would have the time to do.”

“I see you have thrown our last meeting here into the sea of forgetfulness.” He bent down and retrieved the box. “You better alert the staff that I could be stealing this food.” He chuckled and went to place the box on the conveyor belt.

“I thought we called a truce?” she said when he returned.

“We did,” he answered and then flashed what she considered a deceitful smile. “But I couldn't help it. You're too predictable. I bet all kinds of ridiculous thoughts about why I chose to spend my time at the local food bank when I could be out on the golf course are running through your pretty little head.”

“Predictable?” Paige started to argue the point but then figured,
Why?
The man had told the truth. She did want to know why he would spend his Saturday morning among common folks. He walked back to the truck, and she followed. “Well, are you going to tell me why you're here? I know it's not because you enjoy my company.”

“Of course not,” he smirked en route to the conveyor belt, carrying another box. “I get better conversation from the people in line. They're more genuine.”

Paige shot daggers at him and stomped the pavement to keep from punching him in the face. How dare he make a comment like that?

After placing the box on the conveyor belt, he stood in front of her. She didn't like that he was standing so far into her personal space, but he smelled good.

“Let me explain before both your head and neck start rolling and your finger starts pointing,” he said, as if dealing with angry African American women was something he did on a regular basis.

She huffed and puffed but didn't give him the tongue-lashing and animation he deserved.

“You want to know why I'm here not because you're concerned, but because you're nosy. You can't figure me out, because I don't fit into any of your preconceived notions of what someone on my level does. The problem is, you don't know what level I'm on. You only have assumptions based on outward appearance. Similar to how you embrace salvation.”

“How dare you—”

He threw his hands up and cut her off. “Hold on. Let me finish, and then you can tell me off.”

Her fists relaxed and tightened, but she bit her lip to keep from yelling.

“My family's nonprofit foundation is a major contributor to all five local food banks. We not only provide financial assistance, but also give of our time by serving the community. We rotate among the different sites, which is probably why we didn't meet before now, but I'm sure you've seen my family members around, doing everything from unloading trucks to handing out food. You just didn't know you were in the company of millionaires.” He leaned in even closer, as if trying to get his point across. “So, the food you accused me of stealing is actually food I help provide.”

Paige felt her jaw dropping, but she was too stunned to stop it.

“As for conversation, the people in line are real. They are here because they're in need. They're not too prideful to admit they need help. What I like most about the crowd is no one judges anyone. Out here I'm just another guy helping out, not Dr. Simone. You have the working and the unemployed, the young and the old in every color of the rainbow, but status means nothing here. They respect one another and share the common goal of survival. I'm simply humbled God has given me the means to help them. I meet fascinating people every time I serve. And for me, it's not an obligation, but an honor.”

If it were possible, Paige would have become liquefied and flowed down the drainage pipe. Ashamed didn't begin to describe how low she felt for misjudging him, but the jealousy surprised her. Sergio-Xavier possessed the inner fulfillment she yearned for. If nothing else, Sergio-Xavier had been consistent in his attitude and insults since the day they met. He knew his mind and wasn't afraid to voice his opinion. He was rooted and grounded in his convictions.

The smug smile he wore made her almost hate him for the mere fact that he'd discovered his own identity and charted his own course. Paige, on the other hand, had no idea why she showed up at the food bank every Saturday, other than it was part of her Christian duty. She did have compassion for the needy, but giving of her time was one way she achieved atonement for her past sin. For Paige, serving was an obligation.

Paige blinked back the tears this realization had caused and prayed that her voice wouldn't betray her. “I don't know what to say. You're certainly not who I thought you were. Again, I'm sorry.” She expected him to gloat, but he didn't. “I have to get inside,” she said and then turned and walked away when she could no longer stand his intense stare.

“Paige, wait.”

The feel of his hand on her body made her stop, but she didn't turn around. The warmth against her shoulder amazed her since he was wearing work gloves, and she a sweater.

“I hope you're not upset. I really wasn't trying to pick another fight.”

She hoped the smile she pasted on before turning would be enough to convince Sergio-Xavier his words hadn't cut her to the core. “Sure you weren't, but it's all right. I deserved that.” The self-preservation tactic worked. Those full lips parted into that deceiving smile.

“I assume you're working a two-hour shift today?”

She nodded.

“I'm free until evening. How about grabbing a bite to eat afterward?”

Paige shook her head as to clear it. Did he just slap me with the pitiful reality of what my life has become, and then ask me out? she thought. “Are you asking me out?”

“Of course not,” he smirked. “I wouldn't date a nosy woman like you, but I would share a meal with a pretty face.”

“Really?” Her pasted smile turned genuine at his compliment. “You must really think I'm pretty. You've said so twice in less than ten minutes.”

His hand jerked away, as if he had just realized he was stilling touching her. “No, I don't.” He let the rest of the sentence hang and abruptly turned away.

Paige remained glued in place, watching him stomp away, only to return and intrude into her personal space once again.

“You're much more than pretty,” he said in a much softer tone than she had expected. “To me, you're drop-dead gorgeous. Any man, including myself, would be proud to be seen with you. That is, until you open your mouth.”

His words soothed her earlier wounds, and the laughter that followed released the tension. “Is it possible for you to give a compliment without an insult?”

“It's about as possible as you going twenty-four hours without misjudging someone. Believe it or not, that happens only with you.”

Paige playfully slapped his arm. “I'll work on my
slight
problem if you work on yours. And yes, I'll make you look good by sharing a meal with you. We can discuss the properties I selected for you.”