Sunday Brunch Read online

  Jermane looked like a runway model, gliding across the floor in her tailored blue-and-white houndstooth suit. The silk shell peeking from underneath her jacket was accentuated by a triple-strand illusion necklace with freshwater pearls. She looked like she could have borrowed her outfit from Jackie Onassis.

  Her hair was pulled neatly off her face in a chignon with a slight wave that swept across her forehead. Her dark tresses, curly or straight at the magic of a blow dryer, were a contrast to her creamy skin. Her perfectly lined red lips accented the mole above her mouth. She always looked pulled together, even during the summer when the temperature could rise to 100 degrees or more in Houston.

  I guess when you have money, you can always look good. She makes me sick.

  “Hello everyone. There was an accident on Interstate 45 and I had a little delay. Please forgive me,” she said.

  “We'll think about it,” Capri said jokingly. Jewel stood up, gave her a slight hug, and commented on her outfit.

  Jermane had seemed destined to work in her father's prestigious Houston law firm. She met her husband, Rex Richmond, at Westwood, and they fell disgustingly in love. He's the only man she's ever been with sexually.

  Once Rex went to work at her father's law firm, Jermane was relieved of her duties to join the family practice. She's now working on her Master of Law so she can teach.

  “Is that someone's cell phone?”

  “Yes, that's mine,” Jewel said as she pulled the silver mini-phone out of her Prada bag. She stood up and walked away from the table as if she was a top secret agent.

  Capri and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes. Jewel wanted everyone to believe she was so important. Her phone always rang. I found it hard to believe she had that many calls. After all, her job at Westwood didn't seem that demanding. Westwood made up a position for her after she kept hanging around the law school and kissing about a year's worth of behind. She calls herself a “Special Affairs Coordinator.” We call her a party planner.

  Capri, on the other hand, is grounded and has business savvy. She didn't have to pay back any student loans because she invested several thousand dollars a year in the stock market, which allowed her to quickly pay off the small debt that she had after her scholarships. In contrast, Jewel and I have mega law school loans, while Angel paid with her savings and Jermane's father paid her tuition in full.

  Despite Jermane's wealth, she's unpretentious and very giving. When I first got to law school, I had a problem with my paperwork, so my tuition loan was going to be delayed. Jermane barely knew me, but offered me a loan to get books and cover my first payment. “It's not like I won't be able to find you,” she said, referring to our five classes together.

  “Well, I don't know about ya'll, but I'm famished,” Capri said as she slid out her chair.

  “Me, too,” Jewel said, returning from her phone excursion. “That was Angel. She's on her way.”

  At that announcement, we all got up and walked to the buffet, which Etienne's was famous for. You always ran into someone after church.

  I waltzed past the silver trays, seeking my prey at the buffet. After loading my plate with mini-waffles, an omelet, cantaloupe, bacon, salmon, and mini-muffins, I headed back to our table and sat down. By the time we'd gotten our food, Angel had arrived and was seated, waiting for us.

  “Hey, I had a rough time this morning,” she said as she grabbed a muffin from my plate.

  “Doing what? It's not like you didn't sleep in. It's way past morning, and don't get hurt messing with my food,” I said as I snatched my plate away.

  “Is everything OK? I'll bring some coffee for the new arrivals,” Antonio said as he peeked over at our table. “Jermane, you're looking too fabulous. Is that suit Ann Taylor?”

  Jermane nodded with a slight smile of humility. Antonio smiled back and walked away.

  Jewel shifted in her chair. She hated not being the center of attention. “You know, I love Antonio, but I bet that British accent is fake,” she said. “And do you think …” she looked around and lowered her voice “he is, you know, on the other side of the fence?”

  “Jewel, are you asking if he's gay?” Angel asked.

  “Well? He does sorta act that way. Do you think that's something people are born with or is it learned?”

  “Jewel, really,” Jermane said. “It's not like some disease you can catch. People, regardless of their sexual orientation or whatever else, are simply people. I thought you'd outgrown all those little judgmental ways you had back in law school. Didn't you just come from church?”

  “I'm just being real. I mean, isn't it a sin?” Jewel said, watching the syrup she'd just poured ooze over the whipped cream on her waffles.

  “Isn't shopping when you can't afford it a sin?” Capri said. She raised her hand and I slapped it. Always the voice of reason, always cool and collected, Capri was my girl. She worked for a high-power law firm in Houston making stupid money. A doe-eyed beauty with never-ending legs that made her tower over all of us, she was a former New York around-the-way girl turned Black sophisticate.

  “Very funny.”

  “Jewel, I just think you're homophobic. I'm not saying being gay's right, but we all have some kind of struggle … some kind of lust or temptation. Whether it's sexual, financial, spiritual, we all need grace and mercy,” I said.

  Jewel was silent for a moment. “Well, on to something else,” she said.

  Please. I hope we're not going to talk about men. I just don't feel like reliving the whole Reggie incident. It's hard enough as it is facing the possibility of another failed romance.

  “Do you know I had to take my lunch break on Friday to go back to the nail shop?” Jewel said, her voice more upbeat.

  Phew, relief. More frivolous Jewel conversation.

  “All that money I paid for those Solar Nails and one of them chipped a week later. I mean, I went from acrylic to Solar because I thought it would be better, because you know before I had my natural nails and would just get the French manicure. I went to this particular place because of the sterilization system and the massage chair. Then I decided the American manicure was nicer and, well, I just decided I didn't care about saving my own nails, because one day we would be old anyway and it wouldn't matter …”

  We sat with our forks in midair, glaring at her as she went on and on.

  “Jewel! You know, sometimes I wonder how it is you can graduate from law school, pass the bar, and have nothing deeper to talk about besides the intricacies of the manicure process?” Angel yelled as she threw down her fork.

  “That's it. I'm not going to say another word.” Jewel folded her arms.

  “Is that a promise?” Capri said.

  “Come on, ladies, ease up on Jewel,” I said in her defense, trying to sound serious even though I was happy she'd decided to shut up. At that moment, I thought I saw one of our former classmates.

  “Hey, is that Camille Stevenson over there?”

  “You mean Camille Taylor. That microwave marriage lasted all of six months,” Jewel said.

  “I thought you said you weren't talking,” Angel said.

  “Anyway, I heard her husband had an affair with his paralegal. Camille and I have the same masseur, and he was filling me in,” Jewel added.

  “Since when did you get a masseur?” Capri asked. “That's a luxury you cannot afford.”

  “I've been going for a while. He is fabulous. My ex, Charles, introduced me to him. Now I'm totally spoiled.”

  Charles was a football player. Houston has its share of both professional athletes and gold diggers. Jewel was obviously the latter, though I have to say that at least she had some class about it. She dated Charles all of three months, but he never called her back, the poor thing. I think she believed that she was really his girlfriend. She would absolutely kill to marry an athlete.

  “Isn't that Tony Stanton, the center for the Houston Meteors?” Jewel asked, trying to contain her excitement. But I knew her digger radar was on high a
lert.

  “Yes, I think that's him,” I said.

  “I really don't see what ya'll are getting so excited about,” Capri huffed. “He's just another cocky athlete with an ego the size of this room. I'm surprised he can fit in here with everyone else with that big head of his. It's our fault. We make these men into gods. Ladies, they are only human beings.”

  I formed the letter t with my hands. “Calm down, Capri. Time out. All we did was recognize the man. You have to admit, he is kind of ‘sexy chocolate.’”

  “Yeah, like Godiva,” Jewel added.

  “Yes, but do you even care if the man has a brain?” Capri asked.

  The rest of us paused and looked at each other. “Not really!” we said in unison. Everyone laughed.

  “I did hear he was very down to earth,” Jermane said.

  “Whatever,” Capri said.

  “Well, how is Rex?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Oh, you know, busier than ever,” Jermane said. Her eyes quickly fell to her plate and she moved her eggs Benedict slightly with her fork. “He and Daddy are working on a big class action suit, which is good I guess. I don't know.”

  “You don't know what?” Angel asked.

  “I, uh … never mind. I hope this case pans out. They're putting a lot of resources into it. I really would like Rex and me to get away,” Jermane said as she looked at her plate.

  Rex did very well in law school, but worked extra hard to prove himself at her father's firm. In the beginning, Jermane tried to work with the situation. She would go to the office in the evenings, bring him dinner, and watch him work. We all thought it was so romantic and envied her.

  She loved Rex so much because he was a departure from the controlling presence of her father, who did everything big. The one time she stood up to him was for her wedding. Contrary to her father's wishes, she had a small but elegant Catholic ceremony. We were all part of the bridal party.

  Although the wedding was classy, Jermane cut up and enjoyed herself. She hired a zydeco band for the reception, and we had a ball. That was the happiest I've ever seen Jermane. She wasn't one to jump for joy too often, but lately she seemed particularly down and distant.

  “Capri, I think someone is staring at you,” Jewel said, trying to look inconspicious as she pointed in Anthony's direction.

  “Jewel, you're tripping. That's your imagination. You may want to be a notch on some athlete's bed, but you know that's not me.”

  I could still sense a trace of New York in Capri's voice, very sharp and direct. She always seemed to be in control. When we were at Westwood, so many guys were trying to date her, but she didn't give them the time of day. She had her priorities in order.

  Whenever she stood up in class to recite, you could tell that all the men were lusting after her, even though she usually wore jeans, a T-shirt, no makeup, and a ponytail. When she started interviewing for a job, we all went into shock when she wore a suit.

  “What's up for next Friday?” I asked, lifting my cup of coffee, trying not to think of Reggie.

  “Well, I heard these doctors who started this investment group are giving a party at the Silver Lounge,” Jewel said.

  “Not another one of those kinds of parties,” Angel said.

  “What type of party?” Jermane asked.

  “You know, the kind of party where everyone comes to profile, no one dances, and the men spend half the night admiring themselves,” Angel replied.

  “Yeah, it's just one big clique,” Capri said.

  “What do you mean? We're the clique,” Jewel said.

  Capri struggled to suppress her laughter.

  “Jewel, you're a trip. How can you be so bourgeoise driving a compact car?” I said.

  “Lexi, I know you're not talking. You try to pretend like you're so down to earth, but you want to live a certain lifestyle, too.”

  “No, I just want to live an abundant life, as God has promised, without the drama. There's a difference.”

  “Whatever.” Jewel waved a breadstick in the air.

  “So, what should we do on Friday night? Come on, I want to hang out,” Jermane said.

  We all stopped and looked at her in disbelief.

  “Jermane wants to hang out?!? Now, we have to find somewhere to go,” Angel said.

  “Well, I can hang out if I want to,” Jermane said softly.

  “Leave Jermane alone,” Capri said.

  I caught Anthony giving Capri one of those “sop you up with a biscuit” looks. The man was definitely interested.

  “Hey, ladies,” said a svelte young woman as she eased over to the table.

  “Ramona, how are you, dear? We haven't seen you since graduation. What have you been up to?” Jermane finally said after no one else spoke.

  “I've been traveling. I just got back last week. How is that fine Rex of yours?” she asked.

  “Oh, he's doing very well.”

  “Well, here's my new address. Maybe we can go out sometime,” Ramona said in her best southern belle accent as she handed Jermane her card.

  “Yeah, maybe,” Capri said.

  “Did you hear about her?” Angel said after Ramona had walked away.

  “What?” we whispered.

  “I heard that she was involved in some scam. She might lose her law license.”

  “We don't know that for sure, now do we?” Jermane asked. “We shouldn't spread such gossip.”

  “Yeah, I haven't heard anything like that. And you know I would know,” Jewel said.

  “Jewel, you'll take up for anybody who has a Chanel bag,” Capri said.

  “That's not true. We don't even know if her Chanel bag is real,” Jewel said defensively. “But that is the quilted one I just saw in a magazine.”

  “Ding-dong, Jewel, is anybody home? If you were involved in something illegal and getting PAID, you'd have real designer bags, too,” Angel said.

  Capri rolled her eyes and dug a spoon in her tiramisu. “This town is so materialistic.”

  “It's not necessarily just Houston. Our generation is materialistic,” I said. “Anyway, forget about Ramona. What are we doing Friday? I'm ready to go because y'all are starting to really get on my nerves.”

  “Let's go to the ‘Male Revue,’” Jewel said. “It'll be fun. It's an all-Black male strip show.”

  “That tacky show?” Angel asked.

  “Oh, brother. Who wants to do that? I can think of better things to do with $2 besides stuffing it down some man's drawers,” Capri said.

  “Let's just go. We'll have fun. We can go to that doctor thing afterward,” Jermane said.

  We looked at her in disbelief again.

  “Jermane, just because you're so hyped, I'm going to go,” Angel said.

  “Well, let's meet Friday at seven p.m.,” Jewel said.

  I rubbed my temples.

  I am not feeling this strip club or the party. What's going on with me? I just don't enjoy most of the things my friends like to do anymore. Am I getting too serious? Becoming a bore? Maybe I'm getting old. Maybe I know I shouldn't be going anywhere Jesus wouldn't. But God wouldn't expect me to live like a hermit, would He?

  Everyone agreed with the plan. I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Fine.”

  Jermane will probably cancel by midweek anyway. She never goes out.

  fter brunch, I had to run a few errands. As I was driving, I felt a certain freedom. The highway was an open road with no traffic. I slipped in my Michelle Williams CD. I relaxed as the words of her song filled my car.

  I heard a word … Girl, you'll be fine.

  I love Sundays. It's a good time to reflect on the past and think about the future. The sun was getting ready to set and, although it was winter, there was only a hint of chill in the air. Texas had the most beautiful sunrises and sunsets I'd ever seen.

  I reflected on brunch, realizing how blessed I was to have such a blend of friends, each unique. We often got on each other's nerves, but we were there for each other. Thinking of them help
ed me feel better about Reggie.

  I decided to drive past my exit to clear my head. I navigated my car toward downtown. I was nearing the exit that used to take me to Westwood.

  Westwood is one of the few predominately Black law schools in the country. A prominent Houston politician built it as an addition to Westwood University in 1952 because he had an employee whose son wanted to become a lawyer and none of the other Texas law schools would accept him.

  My time there was one of the hardest experiences I'd ever faced. It was ugly, difficult, political, thought provoking, competitive, and challenging. Nonetheless, I'm proud that I'm part of the Westwood legacy.

  I just wish my bank account would reflect my inheritance a little more. As an attorney, you don't really make a lot of money unless you work for a huge law firm or, if you're in private practice, get that one “I'm gettin' paid!” case.

  I stopped at my favorite local grocery store to buy the Sunday paper, some bottled water, and my cherished banana pudding, the one thing that always got me through my Sunday evenings. Then I filled my tank with gas and charted my course back home. As I pulled into the garage, I remembered another one of my blessings-my loft. Lofts were very expensive in certain parts of town, but I managed to find a nice one right on the outskirts of The Heights area before they became trendy and expensive.

  I walked into my apartment and dropped my bag at the door. I walked straight through the main room, with its shades of blue, walked to the bathroom, and turned on the shower, testing it for temperature. I stripped and eased in. I thought, as I stood under the water, no time for a luxurious bath tonight. After a few minutes, I got out and put on my cotton men's pajamas. I sat down with my pudding and picked up the phone to call Capri.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, girl. I'm gettin' ready to call it an early night and turn in. I'm pooped. But I had to call you cause I'm getting a little nervous about going up in front of Judge Albright.”

  “Girl, underneath that bad toupee, he's a softy at heart. What kind of motion are you arguing? Are you prepared?”

  “Motion to suppress evidence. Yeah, I guess.”

  “What do you mean ‘I guess.’ If I know you, you're over-prepared. OK, I'll give you a few tips. When he clears his throat after you've spoken, it means he's leaning toward your side. Look him straight in the eye and use lots of hand movements. Look really serious and raise your voice a lot. He likes to see young lawyers get excited. Plus he's hard of hearing. You'll be fine. Show 'em whatcha workin' with!”