her back. Five hundred and fifty dollars, she read. Then her thinking cap went on as she rationalized spending that kind of money on a dress when she had a world of other priorities.
This is the dress that I could be meeting my future husband in. It has to be something that stands out from the rest and it has to say all the right words. Now, I could easily go to Bebe or BCBG and get a cute dress for half the money, but I’d be risking walking into MoBay dressed like somebody else or two other people for that matter. Everybody shops at those stores. This is a first impression and it must be a lasting one, Dior thought.
She gave herself one last look and one last justification before she decided to take the dress. Before paying for it, though, she asked what the store’s return policy was. She wanted to make sure she could get a refund if Mr. Good Black Man didn’t accept her invitation. Everything worked in her favor and she paid for the dress with her American Express card and left the store. I’ll pay the bill off as soon as it comes in, she thought as she took a deep breath. Outside the boutique, she raised her new dress slightly in the air, in part because it was her only means of getting the attention of a cab driver, but more so as a salute to her efforts. Here’s to giving love one more chance, she thought as she stepped up to a taxi and got inside.
Dior couldn’t wait to get home to see if Mr. Good Black Man would say yes to meeting her in person at MoBay. And it wasn’t really about going on a date, either. She was more eager to read through his response. It became about the challenge at that point. She wanted to see if he would fall through or if he really was what he cracked himself up to be. Lord knew she didn’t need any more impersonators. She wanted the real deal, and if a man was not that he need not apply. Her time was too valuable for pretenders.
“Mr. Good Black Man said yes,” Dior boasted.
“Goodie!” Gordon cheered, clapping his hands. “So that’s one worry down.”
“Yeah, one down and one hundred to go,” Dior replied.
Gordon flagged Dior playfully and jumped right into the interrogation. “Are you excited? What are you going to wear? What time did you tell him to be there? You are going to arrive later than him, aren’t you? You’re not going straight from work, are you?”
“Yes. A really cute dress. Seven. I don’t know. And no, to answer all your questions.”
“Okay, let me get this straight,” Gordon said, holding up a finger. “Yes, you are excited. Okay, good. You’re wearing a really cute dress, not so good.”
“Why not? You think I should wear jeans?”
“No, a dress is appropriate. But when you say really cute dress, it makes me think of a fifth-grade graduation dress, you know, something your grandmother makes for you,” he explained, frowning.
“Oh no, not at all. When we Canadians say really cute we mean like…”
“Hot?”
“Yeah! Hot! It’s a hot dress!”
“Okay, okay, now we’re talking. And you want him to be there at seven, but you’re not sure if you should arrive before or after him?”
“I don’t know,” Dior said, leaning against Gordon’s desk.
“I would say get there early. Not too early, just like five, ten minutes before him. This way you get to play what I call sneak peeks. Once I had a blind date and we were to meet at this club. And this is a club that’s known for fine men, so I was like if this guy turns out to be a monster, then I need to be able to diss him and get with somebody else in the club. The only way I figured I could do that was by showing up early and scoping out the guy first. See, we had planned to each bring a white rose so we could point out each other. Well, I hid my white rose in my man bag. I was sitting at the bar looking at everybody walk through the door. Finally he came in with that white rose and I almost fainted. Girl, he looked like King Kong and Shaba’s gay son.”
Dior laughed.
“You know who Shaba Ranks is, right?”
“Yeah. I’m from Canada, not Mars, Gordon.”
“I’m just checkin’,” Gordon said. “But anyway, that white rose stayed in my bag the whole time while I danced the night away with some other guy.”
Dior and Gordon talked some more, Gordon giving Dior tips on what she should and should not do on her date. At the end of their lunch break, Dior retreated to her office and finally used her time to do some work.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dior,” Larissa said, placing a wrapped gift on Dior’s desk.
“Thank you, Larissa,” Dior said, picking it up. Dior handed Larissa a box of candy hearts and wished her a happy Valentine’s Day also.
“It’s an office survival kit,” Larissa volunteered, smiling.
“Aw, this is so cute,” Dior said. “You would be the one to find a gift like this.”
“I got Barbara a coffee mug that says ‘Boss’s Coffee, I am the Boss. Come and talk to me before you decide to piss in my coffee,’” Larissa excitedly told Dior.
Dior chuckled. “That’s cute. Where do you find stuff like that? All I got her was a bottle of vintage wine.”
“Well, she likes wine.”
Dior shrugged her shoulders. “Next year I’ll be more creative.”
“Well, I’m not going to keep you. I see you’re pretty busy,” Larissa said as she gestured at all the papers scattered across Dior’s desk.
“Well, thanks again, Larissa.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you,” Larissa said, leaving Dior’s cubicle.
Dior took a brief break to look through her gift from Larissa. She laughed at the comments that each candy referred to, particularly at the peppermint that read you pretend to work, we’ll pretend to pay you. “Imagine that,” she mumbled as she thought back on all the on-the-clock hours she spent surfing the Web. She put the candy back down and looked at her watch. It was ten thirty—six more hours before she would be able to go home, and two and a half hours after that she would be seeing Mr. Good Black Man for the first time. She couldn’t wait. The day couldn’t move fast enough.
Dior worked constantly throughout the day, trying to make the time fly. She didn’t get online once, unless it was for research, and she only took a twenty-minute lunch. When four thirty rolled around, she was already on the elevator when normally she would just be shutting down her computer.
Outside was pleasant, although brisk. But the winds were calm and there was no precipitation or signs of any, so for winter weather in New York that was considered pleasant. First, Dior walked a couple of blocks to the bank so that she could get some money from the ATM. She wanted to have cash on hand to pay her drivers throughout the evening and in case for some odd reason she would have to buy her own drinks.
On the subway ride home she leaned her head against the seat and drifted off; organizing what she would do when she got home in her mind. She would run herself a bath and while waiting for the tub to fill she would lay her dress out across her bed. She would get the nude bra and panty set she had bought specifically for the dress out of the Victoria’s
