CHAPTER NINE
That Tuesday morning, after a three-hour bus ride from Bridell, Indiana, Joy walked into the massive lobby of Skeffington PR in downtown Chicago and maneuvered around all of the hundreds of well-dressed bodies coming and going or just holding conversations in the middle of what she saw as the gorgeous marbled floor.
Joy was well-dressed too: She wore a baby-blue, above-the-knee skirt suit and heels, an outfit she wore to church on Sundays, with her little white clutch under her arms and a blue and white scarf around her neck.
Her hair was down, in flows of curls she hot-curled herself early that morning, and her makeup was purposely bland.
She was determined to get a job she didn’t even know the title of, and she was determined to make them hire her. She was just that ready.
But when she got up to the reception desk and the black man behind the desk didn’t even bother to look at her smiling face, but remained focused on his computer screen, she steeled herself. This was the big leagues. This was that concrete jungle. You had to have thick skin.
Although every face she saw in that place was white, at least the receptionist was black like her and looked to be right around her age too. Which gave them something in common. “Good morning,” she said to him.
The receptionist finally looked up. But he looked up annoyed. “Yes? May I help you?”
“Sorry to bother you, even though you are the receptionist, but my name is Joynetta Johnson and I’m here to see Mr. William.”
“Mr. Williams?”
“No, his name is William. I’m here to see William.”
Although the receptionist knew William was the first name of the founder and chairman of the very company with which he worked, he was certain she couldn’t possibly mean him. That was why he waited for her to say more. But she didn’t because she had no more to say.
He rolled his eyes. “William who?” he finally asked her.
“I don’t know his last name,” Joy said, “but he gave me this card.” She handed the card to him.
He looked it over, turning it over on its back just as Contessa had done. “There’s no name on it,” he said just as Contessa had said.
“I know, but he works here.”
“I can’t help you.” He handed her back her card. “There are thousands of people who work in this building. There has to be at least a hundred named William.”
Joy knew not knowing the last name wasn’t a great thing, but she had never dreamed Skeffington PR would be so large. She had expected everybody to know who William was off the bat. Now she felt lost. “I came all this way from Bridell,” she said.
When she said those words, and when he saw that look on her face, the receptionist softened his own tone. She didn’t mean any harm. He could see that in her eyes. “You know what this William looks like?” he asked her.
She nodded vigorously. “Absolutely yes.” She’d never forget those deep blue eyes.
“Then I can only suggest that you sit over there and watch the people coming in. Maybe he’ll be one of those people.”
“But what if he’s already at work?”
“He very well may be. But that’s the chance you’ll have to take. Or you can go back to Bridell.”
Joy ignored his little comment. “Is this the only way they can get in?”
“That front entrance and the back entrance back there,” he said, pointing to double doors on the other side of the massive lobby. She could barely see that back entrance it was so far away.
But the elevators, she noticed, were not far at all from where she would be sitting. “Are those the only elevators?” she asked him.
“They are, yes.”
“Thank you,” she said and then made her way over to the leather bench that sat on the left side of the entrance doors. She kept her eyes riveted on both the front and back entrance doors, and especially those elevators.
But it was a sad state of affairs. Everything she had hoped would go well was already going so wrong.
Beginning with the size of the place. She never dreamed it would be this major.
Beginning with how so out of place she felt.
Because she felt like a Ford Pinto surrounded by a sea of Mercedes-Benz.
And not just any Mercedes either. But one of those top of the line S-class models.
How could she ever have thought that somebody like her could work in a ritzy place like this?
Why would they hire her? And what if William was already inside his office in that big building and she was wasting her time?
What if he didn’t even work there and that was why no name was on that card.
What if he was pulling her leg just for the hell of it?
She had a double shift to pull tomorrow. She didn’t have time to waste like this. She had to be back today so that she could be at Maylene’s bright and early tomorrow morning. Unless they hired her on the spot. Which, she now realized, was not bloody likely!
But when different people in their fancy suits and shoes started walking past her and looking her up and down with disgust on their faces, as if they just knew she didn’t belong there, she dumped the pity party, sat upright, and stiffened her spine.
She belonged there just as much as they belonged there and she wasn’t about to let their snooty looks make her buy into their view of her.
She was going to sit there until time for the last bus back to Bridell if she had to.
She came too far. This was her chance. She wasn’t thinking about them!
But when one hour turned into two hours turned into five hours, she began to wonder if this was just another pipedream from the same busted pipe all her other dreams had fallen through.
In a couple hours she would have to be at the bus station to catch the last bus out.
That was all she had left. A couple of hours.
And then she had just one hour left as the time continued to tick away at her dream.
Even that receptionist, who had shared his lunch with her and would call her over to talk when it wasn’t so busy, and they would laugh together, had gone for the day.
Which made it feel as if any hopes of seeing William was long past impossible.
But she prayed anyway. She kept on praying. She couldn’t give up.
But then, when there were only forty-three minutes left before she had to hightail it back to the bus station, the elevator doors opened and William, in a tailored suit, stepped off with Bobby, along with Sloane behind them.
She had been texting on her cellphone with Contessa when they stepped off.
But when she looked over and saw the man she knew as William heading for the back exit, she grabbed her purse and began running for the back.
“William!” she cried out in the loud lobby as she had to bump past so many people walking by too. But she bumped and pushed aside to get to him. “William!”
But just as she was about to break beyond the gaggle of people in that lobby to get a clear pathway to his side, two burly security guards quickly hurried in front of her, grabbing her beneath her arms and lifting her off her feet as they pulled her backwards and further away from William.
“I need to see him,” she said anxiously as she fought against their hold on her. “William!” she cried out. “William!”
Sloane, who was behind Bobby and William, stopped to pick up the pen she had dropped and she looked over at the commotion.
That was when she heard William’s name for the first time.
That was when she saw a young black lady fighting against Security.
“William!” she was crying out. “It’s me. It’s Joy! William!”
But William and Bobby were already heading out of the back exit doors. Sloane clearly heard her, but she gave her a disgusted look. William kept his romantic life so private that even she, his private secretary, had no idea whom he slept with. Could she be one of the lucky ladies?
No way, Sloane thought. She was way too young, way too ethnic, and way too uncultured-looking for William to give her the time of day. Probably one of those crazed groupies who loved to stalk the rich, Sloane decided as she picked up her pen and hurried behind Bobby and the boss.
Security figured her to be a groupie or stalker too as they refused to let her go. A policeman, whose job was to hang around the major downtown office buildings to assist in moments like this, was retrieved from outside. He hurried inside where Security gladly turned her over to Police.
“You want her arrested?” the officer asked.
“Definitely,” said the lead guard.
But Joy was floored. “Arrested? On what charge? I’m here to see William. What did I do?”
“What’s the charge?” the cop asked Security.
“Public nuisance. Attempted assault on Mr. Skeffington. Resisting arrest.”
The cop knew most of those were bullshit charges. He looked at Joy. “You know William Skeffington?”
William was the namesake of the very building she was standing in? Was that the William she was looking for? “The man that I was trying to get to? Yes,” she said. “That’s who I’m here to see.”
“See. She confessed,” Security said. Then he pretended to shake the cop’s hand, but Joy could see him place money in that cop’s hand. “Now book her and haul her downtown. You saw what she did. You heard her confess.”
“Let’s go,” said the crooked cop who was now eager to arrest her.
“On what charge?” Joy asked again. “I didn’t do anything wrong! I’m here for a job interview. William told me to come!”
“Sure he did,” the cop said dismissively as he kept trying to put handcuffs on her.
But Joy continued to fight against those restraints and was pleading with the officer to do his job and go and ask William. That William would back her up.
But the security guard, tired of her insolence, threw her down onto that same marbled floor she had earlier found so beautiful, knocking the breath out of her, and then he put his knee on her back so that the policeman could cuff her and get her out of their august, respectable lobby.
When they threw her into the back of the patrol car, with those handcuffs tight behind her back, she wanted to break down. She wanted to bawl her eyes out and sob uncontrollably because what she thought was going to be a dream come true was turning into a nightmare.
But she didn’t shed not one single tear. She refused to give that crooked cop the satisfaction. She did nothing. She said nothing. Because she knew nothing she said was going to help her anyway. All she could think to do was pray. And she prayed. Unlike she had ever prayed before, she prayed.
And as that patrol car drove away from that big beautiful building with the beautiful flags flying full-staff out front, and with the patrol car’s sirens blaring, she’d give anything to be back at Maylene’s waiting tables, and joking around with the customers, and working double shifts as she struggled just to pay her rent.
She came to Chicago to get away from all of that. Now she couldn’t wait to get away from Chicago and get back to all of that.
In a matter of minutes, her life had come full circle.