The Alpha For Her

Flint would probably be upset about her absence. But she reasoned that if she watched Billie’s recording of it, and, if she went to her next coaching session armed with a well thought out goal and plan, that he’d understand; especially when she told him the reason. He might even turn his anger to the hacker, and so turn his energy to discovering the culprit.

Jennifer envisioned Flint pulling one of his surprise moves at dinner. She saw him begin by giving them all a lecture on honesty and integrity, and at the height of his speech, he’d point to the person who had hacked them, maybe even using a big screen TV to display his evidence, shaming the hacker.

And even as she idled with that silly daydream, Jennifer couldn’t help but cast Vera’s face as the humiliated villain.

She shook her head. She had encountered her first graphic, and she had to look at Billie’s notes. It was thorny, but she managed to set the page properly. By the time she had reached her next full page of text, she had rounded the learning curve, and the task was becoming second nature.

She forced herself to cut Vera’s face from her imagining. Instead, she saw Billie’s friend Billy. Then she saw Billie storming to him, slapping his face, enraged, then running away, weeping, only to fall into Candy’s arms. Then the two would slip quietly away. Flint would turn to Jennifer, smile and hold out his hand…

“Focus, damn it!”

She concentrated, worked, and got three more pages under her belt before her brain began to roam again. She chided herself for allowing such a silly, adolescent dream. She told herself to think about goals. She thought about her house.

She thought about building a little bridge over the brook by the waterfall. She saw herself walking with Flint in her own little woods, holding his hand and talking about the things that they might do to improve their home. She saw Lisa, spying on them from the porch, and smiling.

“That is not a goal!” she said to herself. Then asked, “Why not?”

Why did a goal have to be something so concrete? Why did it have to be something to do with her business? If her business failed, she could always start something else; she did, after all, have a reputation. And, even if that didn’t work, she had something put by. She could always get a job in a factory doing dull, repetitive assembly work – she was getting good at that. Why couldn’t her goal be as simple and romantic as happiness?

She ran into another pic, and she had to go back to the notes. But even then, she nodded, remembering, and she had the page done in half the time. Her eyes and her finger flew.

Happiness.

“It’s a good goal,” she said.

So, what were the steps; what was the plan? She had most of the elements. She had a cozy little home. She had savings. She had friends. All she needed was…was someone to share all of that with.

She gave herself a mental dope-slap. She had convinced herself long ago that that dream was just that – a dream, and she didn’t want to lose any emotional energy yearning for something that a pudgy, little black girl could never have.

Of course, she could content herself with a “best I can” sort of relationship. Most everyone she knew had done that. The beautiful people, the tens, went with other tens. Fives married fives, and people were content. But Jennifer just wouldn’t see herself settling for some pudgy, black three. Not after what she had had with—

“Well,” Vera said, waltzing into the room, “that was a sheer waste of time.”

“I don’t know,” Billie said. “I thought that a lot of it was pretty good. I’m glad I recorded it.”

“How are you doing, Jen?” Candy asked, leaning into the screen. “Oh, my. You’ve been the busy little bee. Now, let me at it. Vera has agreed to spell me later, and Billie will have at it after breakfast.”

“What time is it?” Jennifer asked.

It was after eleven. She and Billie went back to their rooms, Billie talking animatedly about the presentation.

“It was actually mostly this other woman,” she said. “Someone named Marla – something. She was good. She talked about…”

But Jennifer didn’t really hear what Marla talked about as the two sat to remove their make-up. Her brain was sort of numb. Billie sent Jen the file, and went to shower. Jen looked at her plane, unadorned face, and thought about goals. She realized that Flint had never seen her like that; he had never seen the three that was beneath the professional glam. Her heart sank. She shook her head.

“Concrete,” she said.

She changed into a nightshirt and slipped into bed with her notepad. She called up the recording. Flint had started with a lecture much like the one he had given her that morning. And then he introduced Marla Corbyn. Jennifer just stared. The woman was stunning. Her auburn hair was done up in a weaving and wavy bun with curling tendrils framing her lovely, almost chiseled face. She wore a metallic blue cocktail dress that had to be designed for her perfect curves, and she was near dripping with diamonds and silver.

And, the way that she and Flint embraced made Jennifer’s sinking heart plunge.

She couldn’t hear the presentation. All that she saw was the way that she and Flint laughed and joked and – and…

She shut the file, and then her light. It was a long time before fatigue finally forced her to sleep.

She slept through breakfast. Billie was gone. She stepped into the hall, still in her nightshirt. She heard arguing from Vera and Candy’s room. She peeked in.

“I fell asleep,” Vera was saying. “You give me the dog-watch, and so what do you expect?”

“I expect you to pull your weight,” Candy said. “I expect you to sit down and finish your part, now.”

“It’s Billie’s shift.”

“Billie has been called to her interview, and Jennifer and I – oh, good morning, Jennifer.”

“Knock, next time,” Vera said, and strode past her, out the door and down the hall.

“Vera,” Candy cried. “Vera!”

“What…?” Jen asked.

“Oh, that catty little witch,” Vera said, kicking a chair. “She fell asleep and didn’t finish even half of her bit. Now she’s off in a snit, and our schedule is in the toilet.”

“No worries,” Jennifer said. “We can explain things to Alaiah. We just show her what we have, and talk through the rest. We’re just looking for input, not doing a formal production.”

“I suppose that you’re right,” Candy said, slumping into the chair. “It’s just that I have this…drive in my nature. It can sometimes be as though I were possessed.”

“Maybe you should make a goal.”

Candy laughed.

“Anyhow,” she said, “you’d best get ready. Lois will be calling for us.”

“I missed my breakfast. I’ll catch up with you.”

Candy went to meet Lois. Jennifer sat before the computer. She called down for breakfast, and began to type.

It was after noon, and Jennifer was scrolling through the site in a final check when Candy and Billie strolled in.

“Your absence was keenly felt,” Candy said.

“Is he angry?”

“Hard to tell.”

“Oh well,” Jennifer said. “He’ll just have to live with it. Anyway, I finished.”

“Well done!”

Candy nearly forced Jennifer out of the chair and began reviewing. Jennifer turned to Billie. The girl had a strange look on her face.

“So,” Jennifer said to her, “how’d the interview go?”

“It was…”

Billie’s eyes seemed to be searching, as if the girl was looking for grounding. Jennifer cringed inside, bracing herself.

“It was…wonderful! Flint – he was so charming, so…so encouraging. It was an absolutely uplifting experience. He made me feel…he even called me pretty and – and knowing all about me, he said that he wanted to have dinner sometime…to talk about–”

But just then there was a knock on the door.

“Who?” Candy called.

“Room service,” a light voice sang.

“But we didn’t—”

“Yes you did,” the maid said, stepping in with a tray and a broad grin.

Jennifer did a double-take, then laughed and cried,

“Alaiah.”