Friends and Lovers by Eric Jerome Dickey Read Free Book Online

of us was identical.
    At the same time we said, “Did you—”
    Then we both laughed. Apprehensive laughs in harmony.
    I said, “Go ahead, Twin.”
    “You haven’t talked to your daddy?”
    “Nope. Your daddy hasn’t called me. You gonna call?”
    “I’ve been thinking—”
    I said, “You’ve been thinking since I’m the man why don’t I call and have a man-to-man?”
    “Yeah. You call. Have a man-to-bastard conversation. You know I can’t stand that bastard and the air he breathes.”
    I said, “He knows it too.”
    “I hope him and all of his bitches go to hell. Check to make sure he’s alive, and if he needs anything, I’ll send it to you and you can send it to him.”
    “Sure you don’t want to talk to him? I could do it on a three-way.”
    “I don’t do three-ways. That’s why I broke up with Raheim.”
    “Anything you want me to tell your daddy
if
I call?”
    “Not a goddamn thing
when
you call. If your daddy asks where I am, tell him I turned lesbian, married an African priestess, and I’m in Zimbabwe. And it’s against tribal custom for deceitful grandparents ever to lay eyes on their grandchildren.”
    I laughed. “That your phone beeping?”
    “Probably my hubby.”
    “Take your call. I’m going back to work.”
    She said, “Call your daddy.”
    After I sat and thought for a few seconds, I opened my digital diary and keyed in B-A-S-T-A-R-D. My daddy’s name and number popped up. I picked up the phone, dialed the area code for Nashville, then changed my mind. Some other time.
    A few minutes later I was in a meeting, talking about our latest plan to conquer the computer world, snatch Internet, and become kings of the information age. I shook hands with men and never saw their faces. Didn’t hear their words about making Dan L. Steel the key to personal computing for this and all generations to follow. I took a seat at the round table. Became one of the knights. Nothing they said about being in a battle with Microsoft and Netscape mattered. There was nothing they could say to hold me here.
    Two hours later, I was back in my office, tie loosened, sipping bottled water, shuffling papers in between throwing silver darts at a rainbow hued dartboard with Bill Gates’ picture taped to the center.
    There was a knock at my door. It was a few minutes before six. Minutes before everybody went home. Hated when people stopped by this late in the day. I sat up, moved a few things around my desk, wheeled my chair to the front of my computer workstation. Even though I frowned, I said a lively “Come in.”
    Before me stood a brother in a dark blue suit and Steeple Gate shoes. Thick as a tree stump. About fifty.His stomach spilled over his belt. Deep red patterned tie. Thin mustache.
    He said, “Tyrel Williams?”
    I stood and extended my hand. “Yeah.”
    “Joshua Cooper.”
    He was the one man I’d been avoiding for weeks on end. I gave my firmest handshake and best corporate smile and said, “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard good things about you. Plenty of praise for you in the company newsletter. You’re here from San Francisco to talk strategy?”
    “Actually, no.”
    He took a seat in one of the two chairs facing my desk. I moved my Far Side calendar so I could see his face.
    He said, “We’re familiar with your work. We know you’ve been here two years, did your undergraduate study at Cal State, did your master’s at Pepperdine.”
    I nodded. “Yes, I did. And you’re out of Cornell, pledged the black and gold, mastered at NYU, been with the company twenty-five years, worked the Paris office for two years.”
    “Closer to thirty, and I was in Paris for four. You sound like a man who has done his research.”
    “Likewise.”
    “So much buzz is circulating about you that I feel like I’ve known you for weeks. We want you to come to San Francisco.”
    That undesired offer was why I’d been avoiding his E-mail, faxes, and nonstop messages for the last six months. I’d already