“I don’t really dance a lot here,” I said, turning him down. I wasn’t quite sure why I was doing it this time. I wanted to dance with Jamison. Shoot, I even wanted him to gyrate on me. Feel my butt. Kiss my cheek. All that and we’d just met. This man was making something rise, heat, inside me. But that didn’t change my fear. I was so used to saying no; yes seemed hard.
“You sure?” he asked. “I mean, you look like the kind of person that wants to dance. You have on a pretty dress. Got your hair done all nice and put on makeup.” He pushed a lock of loose hair behind my ear and I could see the muscles in the top of his arm tighten. He was built. Even his suit couldn’t hide that. I felt weak. “You’re sending out all of the signs of someone who wants to dance.”
“You have no idea,” I said, gasping.
“Well, maybe you want to dance, but perhaps just not with me . . .” He gave me a sad frown and shook his head. “I guess a brother just embarrassed himself, so I’ll just sit down in shame and”—he turned to walk away—“pray some ugly girl will take pity on me.”
“No,” I grabbed his arm. “That’s not it. I just don’t—”
“No, don’t lower your standards,” he said jokingly. “I’ll just sit alone and pray the brothers don’t laugh at me too hard on the way home. They’ll all know you turned me down. But I’ll have to live with it.” He wiped a fake tear from his eye.
“You’re crazy,” I said laughing. “Look, I’ll dance with you, but just promise not to touch my butt and stuff.” I couldn’t believe what I was saying. I wanted him to touch my butt! I was screaming inside, but my words were quite different.
“Just one dance?” He turned to me, still wiping fake tears. “Not two?” He was so charming. He kind of reminded me of how my father used to toy with my mother when he wanted something from her. He’d put on one of his records in the den and pull her close to him as her complaining quickly turned to coos. It never took him long.
“Okay, two dances,” I said, putting my hand out. “But that’s it! And no butt grabbing!”
He took my hand and we walked to the dance floor. Jamison Taylor and me. Together for the first time. I was becoming unstuck and it was magical.
E-MAIL TRANSMISSION
TO: [email protected]
FROM: [email protected]
DATE: 4/08/07
TIME: 11:00 AM
Coreen, you were the BOMB at that meeting yesterday! I just had to sit down and write you an e-mail to thank you for your help. I wasn’t sure if they were feeling my presentation at first (I could tell that the office manager was kind of gun-shy about hiring another black company after the last one failed), but when you came through with all of that information about Rake It Up, I just sat
back and let you run with it. They were floored and I knew we had it.
Thanks for everything. Stein and Muck is a major account (I didn’t know you all had eight offices throughout Georgia and South Carolina). This is a big deal for Rake It Up! I promise we won’t make you look too bad. Again, feel free to hit me up if you ever need anything.
Thanks.
E-MAIL TRANSMISSION
TO: [email protected]
FROM: [email protected]
DATE: 4/08/07
TIME: 1:30 PM
I hope you read this e-mail! I have a new e-mail. I realized how crazy it was that I was still using Duane’s e-mail account and went ahead and created a new one. You like the new handle? I thought it was fun.
No problem about the job. You seem like a professional man and I know you will do fine. I was honestly impressed when I saw your Web site for Rake It Up and then located a story about you in Black Enterprise (yes, I read Black Enterprise). I know luck and hook-ups didn’t lead to your grossing over $1 million last year. And basing the whole concept of the company on your father’s love for lawn care is so thoughtful. I just had to help.
So, after the meeting you mentioned a free lunch. Is that offer still open? Can I switch it for a dinner? me smiling back at you.
—Coreen’s so cute
E-MAIL TRANSMISSION
TO: [email protected]