Latessa's New Position
by Neal


Chapter 0 - Prologue


Tom Davis stood nervously outside his boss's office, waiting for him
to get off the phone.  The tall black man had recently turned forty
but except for his receding hair line, the years hadn't caught up with
him yet.  Despite having been repairing office equipment for
Mr. Andrews for almost ten years, he hadn't had too many occasions to
speak with him.

Finally, the older man waved him into the office, looking up at him as
he wrapped up his conversation.  Jack Andrews was youthful looking for
fifty with steel blue eyes and salt and pepper hair.

"So, Tom, what can I do for you?" he asked after hanging up the phone.

"Well, Mr Andrews," said Tom, "I was hopin' there was some way I could
get some extra hours.  I could sure use the money."

"There really aren't extra hours to have," answered Jack.  "I'm sorry,
but we're limited by our clients' needs.  If we take any more on, that
may change.  Sorry I can't help you out."

"It's just that my wife was one of the managers at that company that
had all the layoffs," Tom explained.  "She and the twenty some odd
folks that reported to her all got it.  Even her boss got laid off.
She got a job at the 7-11, but that's just minimum wage.  We got to do
somethin' 'cause our daughter's goin' to college next year."

"I don't know what to say, buddy," sighed his boss.  "I can't give you
hours I don't have."  He pondered a moment, "well, there is another
way I might be able to help.  I might be able to give your wife better
work than she's got now."

"I didn't know we were hiring."  Tom had already started checking the
company bulletin board for jobs that his wife, Latessa, would be
suited for.

"No, it's not here at the company," Jack responded.  "It's at my
house.  See, my wife has her hands full, what with two teenagers and a
big house.  We actually had a couple of girls to help her out.  The
morning girl turned up in a family way, if you know what I mean, and
had to stop working for us.  Cooking breakfast and lunch, making beds,
doing laundry, and other light housework."

"A maid?" asked Tom, his eyebrows raised.  Latessa would not be happy
about this, he thought.

"I'm just brainstorming here, Tom," replied Jack.  "The 7-11 pays
minimum wage.  The maid job pays six hundred dollars a week.  It's got
to be better than selling cigarettes and lotto tickets.  But,
whatever.  Bounce it off the little woman and let me know if she's
interested.  But, either way, I'll keep an ear to the ground for her.
A woman who managed a big department like that shouldn't be making
slushies at the 7-11.  Something's bound to turn up."

"Thanks, sir," replied Tom.  "I appreciate it.  And I'll let you
know."


 * * *


Latessa Davis was a fine looking black woman who looked much younger
than her thirty nine years.  Beautiful dark skin, soft brown eyes, and
thick full lips.  Her long straightened hair reached her shoulders.
That night after supper, it was she who broached the subject.

"So, Tommy," she asked, "How did it go with the boss?  Are you gonna
be able to get some more hours?"

"Uh, no," he replied, getting up his nerve.  "But he did have
somethin'.  But it wasn't for me.  It was for you."

"Me?" she asked.  "I thought you said there weren't any jobs there."

"It's not at the company," he explained.  "It's at Mr. Andrews' place.
His wife needs some... uh... domestic help."

"What!"  she exclaimed, her voice rising.  "That's what you got for
me?  A fuckin' maid job!  The fuck I'm gonna go clean up some white
family's messes!"

"It's six hundred dollars a week," he replied.  "Look, I just told him
I'd tell you about it and now I did.  I'm only thinkin' of Darlene.
Even with the scholarship we got to have more money.  Losin' your
manager pay hurt us bad."

"Oh, Tommy," she sighed.  "A fuckin' maid.  Is that what it's come
to?"

"I'm sorry, baby," he reassured her.  "It's only temporary.  Things'll
pick up and somethin' better's bound to come up.  Plus, this is better
than some convenience store job.  I'm always afraid for you there.
The place has been held up before!  At least we wouldn't have to worry
about that with you up at Mr. Andrews' place."

"All right, I guess it can't hurt to at least go talk to them."
Latessa seemed resigned to suffering indignities like this since
losing her well paying job.


 * * *


Tom told Jack the next morning that Latessa was willing to come to his
house and talk to him and his wife to see if she'd be interested in
the job.  They made arrangements for eight o'clock that evening.

The Andrews place was in a suburban neighborhood where the houses were
far apart and for the most part couldn't be seen from the street.  Tom
pushed the button on the speaker box at the gate and announced he and
Latessa's arrival.  They were buzzed in and drove through.  He parked
the car at the end of the Andrews's long driveway and looked over at
his wife.

Latessa was still upset about the situation.  But she had calmed down
with the time she'd had to think about it, along with another shift at
the 7-11.  Sweeping the floor there and cleaning burnt nacho cheese
out of the microwave oven.  The maid job started to look good by
comparison.

A big black woman in a full maid uniform answered the door when they
rang the bell.  She was in her late twenties with a dark complexion
and pronounced African features, with an especially broad nose and
thick lips.  And her uniform wasn't one of the silly French maid
outfits you see in girlie magazines.  A charcoal colored work dress
that reached her knees with a white apron tied around her waist.  She
even sported a white maid's cap in her short curly hair.

"They be expectin' you," she said plainly and stepped back allowing
the black couple to enter.

She led them across the flagstone entry way into the thickly carpeted
living room.  The room was quite large, one entire wall was made of
panels of glass that looked out onto a patio with a large grassy yard
beyond it.  Mr. and Mrs. Andrews sat on the couch and watched them
come into the room.

Mrs. Andrews appeared to be much younger than Tom and Latessa,
certainly no older that thirty.  Blonde hair down to her shoulders,
and blue eyes, Cindy Andrews was the picture of a suburban woman of
leisure.  She was the daughter of a prominent state senator for the
district and niece of a county court judge.  Her connections had
helped Jack's business prosper and made both of them very wealthy.


Jack stood and offered Tom and then Latessa his hand.  "Glad you made
it," he said as he shook hands with them both, keeping his eyes on the
black woman.  "Hope you didn't have any trouble finding the place."

"No, no trouble at all," Tom replied, taking in the luxurious
surroundings.  He also couldn't help admiring Cindy and the way she
looked at him.  There was an aloofness as well as something cold and
calculating about the look on the white woman's face.  And something
about that stirred a strange sensation inside the black man.

"You may go, Bertha," said Jack to the black maid.

"Thank you, suh," she replied and left the room.

"This is Tom and...." he stopped, having forgotten Tom's wife's name
as he introduced the black couple to his wife.

"Latessa," said Latessa, slightly offended at his not knowing her
name.

"Yes, Latessa!" exclaimed Jack.  "That's right.  Sorry about that."

He turned to the Davises, "And this is my wife Mrs. Andrews."

"Pleased to meet you," she said, smiling and remaining seated.

Latessa was a little taken aback at his introducing them by their
first names, while only using his wife's surname.  Another indignity,
she thought.  He hadn't even offered them a seat!

Tom on the other hand barely noticed it.  Instead he was oddly
intrigued by Cindy's behavior.  He'd noticed that kind of feeling
before in his dealings with white women on the job.  The way a
receptionist would look at him when he arrived on a service call.  How
a secretary would speak to him while he repaired a photocopier.  It
was never as blatant, or as powerful, as what he felt from Cindy.  And
a quick glance into her blue eyes gave him the strange notion that she
could sense it in him.  He quickly looked away.

"Anyways," continued Jack, "Latessa is interested in the morning
girl's job."

"I see," said Cindy.  "Have you ever done domestic work before?"

"I've kept house for almost twenty years and raised a teenage
daughter," she replied, trying to suppress her indignation.  Twenty
people had reported to her.  Most of them white!  And here this rich
white woman who had probably never worked a day in her life was asking
her about her maid experience!  It was all Latessa could do to keep
from slapping her and walking out.  But she thought of cleaning out
the dirty toilets at the 7-11 and kept her composure.

"Well," laughed the white woman, "I'm sure that qualifies you.  The
morning girl starts at five thirty.  She prepares breakfast for the
family.  Our boy and girl are in high school, Bobby and Megan are
eighteen, they're twins.  They need breakfast at seven so they can get
to school.  Mr. Andrews and I take our breakfast at eight thirty."

"Then it's time to make the beds and get the laundry together," she
continued.  "Some vacuuming up where it needs it and then get our
lunch together and take care of the dishes afterwards.  By one thirty
you're all done and that's all there is to it.  See, it's not
difficult.  And a sight better than that disgusting store you work at
now."

Latessa wasn't sure how much of this white woman she was going to be
able to take.  But the store *was* disgusting.  Neither were easy to
take and this paid better.  If she truly hated it, she always go back
to the 7-11 or somewhere like it.  Jobs like that were always
available.

Tom looked at his wife and admired her restraint in the face this less
than respectful treatment, while he, meanwhile, had mixed feelings
about it himself.  Jack and Cindy looked at her, too, waiting for her
reaction.

"I suppose I can give it a try," she finally said.  What the fuck, she
thought.

"Excellent!" said Cindy.  "I don't think Gladys's outfit will fit you,
so you'll need to get a proper uniform.  Something like Bertha's will
be fine.  When can you start?  I suppose you want to give your present
employer some kind of notice."  The white woman's nose wrinkled as she
mentioned the convenience store.

"No," said Latessa.  "I can start day after tomorrow."  Those chumps
at the 7-11 didn't need any notice.  They'd be lucky if she did
anything other than simply not show up anymore.

"Wonderful!" said Cindy.  "I'll have Bertha show you around the
kitchen and give you a key to the back door so you can let yourself in
your first day.  We won't be up yet at that ungodly hour."

Cindy picked up a small brass colored bell with a black handle and
rang it.  Bertha walked into the room a few seconds later.

"Yes, ma'am?" she asked the lady of the house.

"Latessa will be taking over for Gladys," Cindy instructed.  "Show her
what she needs to see to start the day after tomorrow.  And give her a
key."

"Yes, ma'am," replied the negro servant.  Latessa went with Bertha
back out of the living room and across the flagstone entry way.  They
walked through a large formal dining room and through a swinging door
to the kitchen.  It was quite large and well outfitted.  In the back
of the room was a door to the outside.

"Here's yo' key," said Bertha, taking a key off a hook inside a
cabinet door.  "Don' lose it.  An' only use this door.  Miz Cindy don'
like us usin' the front door."

"Those chillun of theirs don't want no fancy breakfast.  They just
have cereal, milk, and juice.  Miz Cindy'll put a note up over here to
say what she an' Massa Jack'll have."

Latessa thought she wasn't hearing right.  "Excuse me, Bertha.  I
didn't hear right.  What did you just say?"

"I say Miz Cindy'll put up a note about what to make for breakfast,"
she replied with an odd look on her face.

"No," explained Latessa, "after that.  Did you say Massa Jack?"

"Tha's right," said Bertha patiently.  "Massa Jack.  That his name.
Din't you know that?"

"Ok.  Massa Jack."  Latessa was starting to have second thoughts about
this job.  It was starting to feel strange.

"Tha's right, Latessa," explained the colored maid.  "You gots to talk
respectful to these white folks.  They like to hear 'yes, suh,' an'
'no, ma'am.'  You call him Massa Jack and the lady Miz Cindy.  Massa
Bobby and Miz Megan, too."

"Now, I'll come in early, nine o'clock, and show you what you need to
do after breakfast," she continued.  "Where the bedrooms and laundry
room is at so you can get to it."

"One more thing, Bertha," asked Latessa.  "How does that woman have
children so old?"

"She ain't their natural momma," replied the young negress.  "An' she
ain't the first Mrs. Andrews neither."

Mentally, Latessa had already blown off the 7-11.  This, too, she
would just have to get used to or she'd be back to sweeping scratch
tickets off the sidewalk.  She'd suck it up.  For Darlene.

Back in car, heading out the drive way, Latessa turned to her husband.

"Tommy, those white folks ain't right," she told him.  "That girl told
me some shit about talkin' to them like we was on the plantation not
in the suburbs.  But I'll try, because I know how important it is."

"That's all I ask, baby," he replied.  "Somethin's bound to turn up
before long.  Just got to tough it out for little while."  Still, the
image of the way Cindy had looked at him haunted the black man as he
steered the car down the road towards home.


 * * *


The uniform shop proved to be another humiliation for Latessa.  She
found it was nothing like the trendy shops at the mall where she used
to shop for her professional attire.  Bright fluorescent lights on the
ceiling and a grubby linoleum floor greeted her as she walked in the
door.  No posed mannequins, no colorful posters.  Just racks of
clothes for nurses, waitresses, and of course, maids.

The clerk, a young teenaged white girl with green dyed hair, popped
her gum while reading a magazine when Latessa was ready to check out.
Glaring at the black woman for the interruption, she removed her
headphones.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"I need to buy these," Latessa said, placing three identical charcoal
colored work dresses on the counter.  "Do you take American Express?"

"You've got American Express?" the white girl snickered.  "No.  Visa
or Master Card.  That's it, lady.  And I'll need a picture ID."

Her face flushed as she fumbled in her purse to get a different card
and handed it over.  No, she thought, this isn't how they treated her
at the mall.


 * * *


Darlene found Latessa standing in front of the full length mirror on
the back of her bedroom door.  She was wearing her newly purchased
maid's uniform.  The teenager could tell her mother had been crying.
Her daughter looked like a younger version of herself and even wore
her hair in the same long straightened style.

"What are you wearing, Momma?" she asked.  "What are you dressed up
like a maid for?"

"Well, baby girl," sighed Latessa, "your momma has got to do some
unpleasant things sometimes.  It's part of being grown up.  Just for a
little while I'm gonna be workin' up to your daddy's boss's house.  As
a maid.  It pays better than what I had at the 7-11, though it's hard
to say which is more demeanin'"

She stood and stared into the mirror.  The black maid looked back.


  
Latessa-00