Love Won't Let Me Wait Read online

  “What’s up, more problems with Shay?” Shannon stood silent for a second. She behaved as if she wanted to tell me something but just couldn’t get it out. I figured it was the pregnancy. I moved towards her and placed my hand around her shoulder. I kissed her on the neck. When the time is right. The microwave began to beep once, twice, and then one sustained beep. I opened the door and grabbed the plate from the microwave. A slow stream of steam rose from it. Shannon started walking towards the bedroom. Halfway there she called over her shoulder.

  “I’m going back to bed.” I watched her walk into the bedroom and climb under the covers. I walked over to the bedroom, paused in the doorway and watched her lay. I shut the door and walked back over to the sofa, sat down, grabbed the remote and turned up the volume on the television.

  I was just in time to catch a replay of Patrick Peterson weaving through the Panthers punt coverage on his way to an 87-yard touchdown. I sat back on the sofa and dug in. Even reheated the food was the bomb.

  Chapter 8

  I’d gotten a message from Toya earlier in the evening. I hadn’t seen her in a couple of days. Not since I had broken the news to her about my impending fatherhood. That lunch had left me unsure of how our relationship would change, if at all. That was some heavy shit I’d laid on her. I was hoping she would call me first, that way I could gauge her attitude and react accordingly. No such luck though.

  I’ve been purposely calling her cell phone during the hours that I was sure she would be in court and her home phone when confident she would be in the office. I left a number of messages in her mailbox and she left a few in mine. Always brief which was so unlike her. I had grown accustomed to her messages being five minutes or longer. Sometimes her message would be so long that the voicemail would beep and roll into a second message of her continuing to ramble on about something she could have relayed to me in two sentences or less. It was becoming agonizingly obvious that I was going to have to suck it up and give her a ring. It was not the preferred scenario but it was also not totally unexpected. After all, I was the one that pulled a Pearl Harbor on our relationship.

  I grabbed my cell phone off of the nightstand and sat up in my bed. The speaker on the wall above the bed filled the air with the soulful harmonizing of Boys II Men. Wanya was wailing something about making love like you want him too. Toya picked up on the third ring.

  “Hello,” she answered over the television blasting in the background. Sounded like that show with the female judge: Divorce Court. She must have recorded it though because I don’t think it comes on during the weekend.

  “Hey, shorty, what’s up?” I asked with as uneventful a tone as I could muster. I figured that if I acted like everything was as it was before my announcement, Toya would as well. Hey, it made perfect sense in theory.

  “Nothing, where have you been? I haven’t heard from you all week,” Toya answered sounding upbeat. Not a hint of hostility in her voice. And you laughed at my little theory.

  “Girl, I just talked to you on Friday. What do I have to do, check in with you everyday now?” Toya chuckled.

  “You’ve been hanging out all weekend haven’t you? Your boys left to go back home and now you want to call ol Toya. I didn’t hear from you Friday night or Saturday. But here it is Sunday and all of a sudden you have time for little old me. Isn’t that something?”

  “C’mon, you know it’s not like that. I called because I was thinking about you.”

  “Yeah, I bet,” Toya answered, her words laced with sarcasm.

  “No, I’m serious, I was worried.”

  “Worried about what?”

  “Our friendship. I was hoping my news the other day wasn’t going to change anything between us.” Toya was silent. How the hell did I wind up there? Right in the middle of the conversation I had spent the last few days trying to avoid. Toya took a deep breath.

  “Kalem, you know that I love you.”

  “I love you too, Toya.” Maybe I shouldn’t have replied to that one. Toya continued after a brief pause.

  “But let’s be serious. It is impossible for our relationship, friendship, whatever, not to change. You’re going to be a father; things are going to be different.”

  “What does my being a father have to do with our friendship?”

  “Kalem, we’ll still be friends, you know that. We’ll always be friends. But our thing has always been a little more than just friends, right?” I hesitated.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Well, it can’t be like that anymore. We can’t be like that anymore. That’s not fair to Shannon, to you, me, and if what you told me about wanting to be a family with your kid and the mother is true, it won’t be fair to your kid.” Again silence. “You understand?”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  “You know that I’m right.”

  “I’m going to miss hanging out with you though.”

  “What are you talking about?” Toya asked, her voice a chorus of surprise. “I didn’t say we can’t hang out. I’m talking about all of the extracurricular stuff and don’t act like you don’t know what I mean.” I laughed.

  “I know what you mean. Damn, that shit is going to be hard.”

  “You’ll be alright.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t talking about me. I meant it’s going to be hard for you.”

  “Oh really, and just how do you figure that?” She asked.

  “Shit, fine as I am? That’s like putting a basehead in a crack house and telling her she can’t take a hit. It’s hard to quit cold turkey. I’m going to have to wean you off of me slowly. Even then you’ll always be in recovery. Always just one weak moment away from a relapse.” Toya thundered with laughter. “You know what they say, once an addict always an addict.”

  “You wish,” Toya countered. “Shoot you probably went through withdrawal these past two days not talking to me.”

  “Whatever, shorty.”

  “Who called who, huh?” Toya questioned.

  “Ahh please, that doesn’t mean anything. I told you why I called.”

  “Yep, just like a junky. Always got an excuse.” We both laughed. I guess this change in our friendship wouldn’t be so bad after all. Things felt the same to me. I’ll just have to wait and see how things go when we hang out or see each other in person.

  Shannon and I had made plans to meet for lunch, but I called and changed it to a dinner date for later that evening at my place. I had a morning meeting scheduled with Kyle Perkins and I wasn’t sure how long it would last. I had been putting it off for a couple of days. The delay was necessary to allow time for me to author a tentative agreement with Technosync for a possible buyout. A formalized offer would be a valuable tool for applying pressure on Perkins and Intellica. Accept our offer or be sidelined as we finalize the deal with Technosync.

  I had advised Calango to pursue Technosync months ago, but Calango has had his sights set on Intellica and it has been an impracticable task getting him to consider alternatives. The fact that both companies are virtually identical in size, worth, technological capacity, and most importantly for Calango, name recognition has further confounded the issue as it pertains to his stance. His doggedness was really becoming an overgrown thorn in my ass.

  Debbie buzzed in on the intercom to inform me that Perkins had arrived. I instructed her to show him into my office. I then strategically placed a copy of a recent fax from Technosync on my desk right in front of the chair that Perkins would be sitting in.

  Debbie knocked on the door and leaned in. I waved her in. Perkins came strolling through the door, briefcase in his hand, swinging his arms a la George Jefferson. He wore a dark-blue Armani suit, complimented well by a dark-blue silk tie against a gold shirt. I had to admit he looked pretty sharp. The get up was almost smooth enough to make you forget what a little prick he was. Debbie closed the office door behind him.

  I stood up and walked around the desk to greet him. When I shook his hand I made a point to lean forward bending at the
waist to emphasize the almost eight inch difference in height between us. Perkins struck me as the type that would be self-conscious of his small stature and I wanted every possible advantage in dealing with him. Maybe I could intimidate him and throw him off his game.

  “Hey man, how’s everything going?” Perkins greeted.

  “Not bad, Perkins, I can’t complain. How about yourself?”

  “Just lovely, I’m loving life my brother.” Everything about the guy irked me. From his chubby physique, to his condescending, arrogant attitude. He was phony from top to bottom. I really couldn’t point to one specific thing that caused me to dislike him so, or why he elicited such a strong reaction in me. But there is definitely something there, below the surface, and every time I’m in his presence it rises to the top.

  “Well that’s good to hear,” I responded. “Always good to see another brother doing well.”

  “I feel the same way” Perkins returned, his lips pursed into a sly grin. I doubted the veracity of his response. He struck me more as the type of guy that would use his success to keep his minority brethren underfoot. He’d view any young brother of substance as a threat and do everything in his power to suppress their success. The successes of competing Caucasian brothers would be of minimal concern to him. Never mind that there are twenty White guys ahead of him in position and power, as long as he remains perched safely atop the minority status ladder.

  “I hope you have some good news for me today,” I said. Perkins reached over and tapped his briefcase.

  “Oh, I think what I have in here will make us both happy.” He again flashed me a sly grin. I ignored it and continued.

  “Well alright then. Let’s get down to business. I walked back around my desk and sat down. Perkins unbuttoned his jacket and sat in the chair in front of my desk.

  Just as I predicted he would, he immediately started scanning my desk for anything that would give him some insight into what I was thinking. I would have done the same thing if I were in his office. I pretended to not notice what he was doing. I opened my desk drawer and fumbled around in it until I was sure that he had discovered the fax from Technosync. I shut the drawer and looked up at Perkins. He was still busy trying to read the fax.

  “So, what did you think of our last proposal?” My question startled him and he damn near fell out of the chair. I smiled internally. He composed himself before responding.

  “It was closer to what we have in mind.” I leaned back in my chair. Perkins again flashed his maddening smile. He leaned over and grabbed his briefcase from the floor next to his chair, placed it on his lap and popped it open. “I have something here that I think is more in line with what we expect. I think you will find it to be more than fair to both parties.”

  He took the paperwork from his briefcase and handed it to me. I placed it on the desk in front of me without even glancing at the cover. Perkins eyed me with suspicion as he shut his briefcase and placed it back on the floor next to his chair.

  I stood and walked over to the series of floating glass shelves where I kept my books, pictures, my stereo, and of course my liquor. I used to have a mini-bar but found it to be a waste of space, so I gave it away.

  I surveyed the bottles of liquor. Hennessy, Crown Royal, Courvoisier, Grey Goose, or Belvedere? I reached over grabbed the bottle and started pouring myself a glass of Hennessy. Nothing like a little henn-dog to relax the mind. I turned to Perkins.

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Uhm, yeah, let me have one of whatever you’re having.” I poured a second glass for Perkins. I grabbed both glasses, walked back to my desk, and handed one to Perkins. I sat down in my chair and took a sip, Perkins did the same. It was obvious that he wasn’t much of a drinker.

  As he swallowed his face became strained. His eyes watered and I could see the veins in his neck protruding. He started coughing and began to pound his chest with the side of his clenched fist. I took another sip of my drink.

  “Are you alright? You want some ice or Coke for that drink?” Perkins continued to tap his chest and nodded.

  “No, no thanks.” Again he coughed. “I’m alright; it just went down the wrong pipe.” Whatever you say buddy. I smiled at him and took another sip of my drink. Again Perkins followed suit, and again he went through his chest tapping and coughing routine.

  I set my drink on the desk and flipped open Perkins’s proposal. At first glance everything appeared to be in line with my expectations. I continued the tedious task of reading through the document, examining it line by line before arriving at the total compensation.

  It was roughly 6 million dollars over our latest proposal, and almost 20 million more than our original proposal. I glanced up at Perkins. He was holding his breath, pinching his nose, and trying to gulp the last of his drink. I flipped through the last few pages of his counter offer before backtracking to page nineteen, the section that broke down the executive compensation packages. As I studied the numbers it came as no surprise that 5.5 million of the 6 million additional dollars in Perkins’s counter offer was littered in various subsections of this part of the proposal. Perkins’s package alone had increased by over 300,000 dollars.

  I took a sip of my drink and swallowed my anger. When I looked up at Perkins he was glassy eyed and his head seemed to be swaying some. I smiled at him and closed his counter proposal. Perkins smiled back at me with the sort of entreating demeanor offered by a youthful pup after having been forsaken for the toil of an eight hour shift, and desperately seeking the affection of its owner.

  “So what do you think?” He asked; his speech slurred and deliberate. I looked him dead in the eye.

  “I’ll run it by Calango, but I have to be honest with you; at first glance it does not appear to be acceptable.” Perkins adjusted his necktie. His movement was slow. His sluggish progress reminded me of a drunk sitting at a bar drowning his sorrows over being laid off, and the stress of his failing marriage. I was taken aback by his reaction after having consumed just one drink.

  “Well what do you see as the problem?” Perkins asked, his slur slightly more pronounced.

  “The problem is solely in the total purchase amount. It’s increased with every one of your proposals. We’ve come up almost 4 million on our last offer. That brings our package to over twenty percent more than the net worth of Intellica. That’s an inflated price by any standard. Still you keep asking for more money. And it seems like all of the increases are in executive compensation. It’s really not an issue for us where the money goes once it leaves our hands but the bottom line is that the counter proposal you just handed me is over 20 million dollars more than our original offer. Frankly speaking, our original offer was extremely generous considering Intellica’s track record over the last five years. Perkins continued to stare at me through his glossed over eyes. His mouth was now hanging open. I wondered if he had processed anything that I had said.

  “Well, we do have offers from several other prospective buyers to consider,” Perkins countered. “We’d like to do business with you but we have an obligation to secure the best possible deal we can get.” I guess he was still hanging in there. I was about to respond when Debbie buzzed in.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Kingsley.”

  “Yes, Debbie, what is it?”

  “You have a phone call, would you like to take it?” Although it is probably common practice in business to hold your calls and have your secretary take messages, I sometimes preferred to be interrupted during meetings. A timely interruption could be a life saver; a chance to regroup if on the wrong side of some tense negotiations. That wasn’t the case here however. I could handle Perkins in my sleep.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Toya.” An odd thing happened right then. Perkins seemed to snap out of his alcohol-induced daze. He sat up on the edge of the chair wide-eyed and attentive. He was eager in anticipation of my response. I eyed him with suspicion. He took note of my suspicious stare and immediately sat back in his chair as
if uninterested. He began to tap his finger on the armrest of the chair. He was nervous.

  “Debbie, just take a message and I’ll call her back. And hold the rest of my calls please.”

  “Yes, sir,” Debbie answered.

  When I glanced back at Perkins his face wore a look of disappointment. I was unsure if he was just being nosey or if there was another reason for his sudden awakening and curiosity about Toya’s call.

  “Well, Perkins, like I said, I’ll run this by Calango and we’ll be in touch.” Perkins appeared to be frustrated. He stood up and buttoned his jacket. I walked around my desk to show him out. As he reached down to grab his briefcase he lost his balance and stumbled. I wanted to assist him to the ground by kicking him square in the ass but instead I caught his arm and steadied him. “Are you sure you’re alright?” My concern was as phony as Perkins’ personality.

  “Oh, yeah, I’m okay,” Perkins returned with a smile that betrayed his embarrassment. “I just stubbed my toe.” Yeah whatever. He grabbed his briefcase and I continued to show him towards the door.

  My standard post meeting protocol entailed at a minimum escorting my counterpart or client to the elevator. But at this point my disdain for Perkins was so that I couldn’t bear the thought of spending one more minute with him. At least not without bitch-slapping him. I opened the office door, turned to Perkins, and shook his hand.

  “We’ll be in touch.”

  “Definitely,” he answered. “Hopefully we can come to an agreement and get this deal done.” I ignored his last statement.

  “My secretary will show you out.” I shut the door behind me and walked back to my desk, picked up my glass and walked back to the shelf for a refill. Then I sat down in my chair and swung around to face the window behind me. I wet my thoughts with the liquor and glanced out of the window.