Getting to Happy
together forever: like eighteen years. “Hi, Norm. Did everybody forget I was coming in a little late this morning or what?”
    “No, not at all. I just wanted to give you a heads-up about something.”
    “Is something wrong?”
    “I’m not sure, but a deal that was supposed to close yesterday fell through without much explanation.”
    “And?”
    “Well, you know this is unusual, Robin. Plus, there’s a buzz going around that we may be getting bought.”
    “This wouldn’t be the first time, Norm.”
    “You never know how it might work for or against us in this industry.”
    “Remember the last time? They just changed the terms of some of our benefits and what have you. Until something actually goes down, we should just keep doing what we’ve been doing. By the way, is Fernando in yet?”
    “Doesn’t look like it.”
    “He’s pushing his luck. Just because he’s smart he thinks it’s his ace in the hole. I might shock him and let him go if he keeps this up. Dare I bother to ask if Lucille has given you the printouts?”
    “She has indeed. I think there must be another dance coming up soon, because she’s got a stack of tickets on her desk.”
    “Oh, Lord.”
    “I might go to one, one day, Robin. Do you know how many tickets I’ve bought from her over the years?”
    “I think I do, Norm.”
    “I’d probably stick out like a sore thumb. Being white. That would be a hoot.”
    “You’d be surprised how many white folks are at these dances.”
    “You’re funny, Robin. See you soon.”
    Since my calendar is clear this morning, as soon as I drop Sparrow off, I think I’ll head over to Macy’s. They’re having a one-day sale. I can beat the crowd, plus I need to return a pair of sandals I got at the Mills Outlet a few days ago. They looked good on me in the store but not when I got home. They’re still in the trunk, which is where I store a lot of my returns. The outlet stores are my drug of choice—and in and around Phoenix they’re everywhere. And good ones. I’m talking Saks, Bebe, Nieman’s, Nordstrom’s, and even Victoria’s Secret. I find a reason to shop at least two to three times a week. The best rush in the world is getting something at 80 percent off. One day I’m going to say no to myself. But not today. I’m going to try to limit how many times I whip out Mr. Visa or Ms. Gold American Express, and I promise not to buy Sparrow another anything.
    I turn on the radio and what’s her name who won American Idol last year—Fantasia—is singing her new song “Free Yourself.” I kinda like it but her voice is a little too high-pitched for me. Hell, if the company does get sold, this could be a good thing. Sometimes these takeovers can mean a raise or a promotion and new career opportunities, even though I doubt it. But I can’t worry about any of this stuff right now. My baby girl is about to start driving.

Shake, Rattle & Roll
    Bernadine was lying in bed watching Jeopardy! when the phone rang. “Hello,” she said after noticing the number was blocked on the caller ID. She prayed it wasn’t a telemarketer. If so, as soon as she heard the unfamiliar voice ask for her she would do what she always did and hang up.
    “Is this Bernadine Wheeler?” a woman who was obviously black asked. She also had a southern accent. Bernadine had relatives all over the south. Maybe this was one of them.
    “Who wants to know?” Bernadine asked. She sat up straighter and pressed mute on the TV remote.
    “Belinda Hampton.”
    “I don’t know anyone by that name.”
    “Well, you do now. You might want to sit down, honey.”
    “Why?” Now Bernadine was beginning to feel curious along with suspicious.
    “I just want to know how long have you been seeing my husband?”
    Bernadine didn’t think she’d heard her right. She couldn’t have. “You must have the wrong number. I’m a married woman myself. Goodbye.”
    “Hold on a minute! Is your husband’s name James Wheeler?”
    “Yes it is,

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