Till You Hear From Me: A Novel by Pearl Cleage Read Free Book Online Page A

he said, leaning back in his lovely leather chair. “Reverend Dunbar is my father’s best friend. I grew up in his church.”
    Oscar’s mouth dropped open with surprise and Stan’s face flushed ever redder with surprise or delight, Wes couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. At that moment, Wes was golden.
    “Well, then,” Stan said, reaching in his pocket for a thick white envelope and placing it on Wes’s desk without comment. “I don’t mean to rush things, but we’ve got a plane going to Atlanta at midnight, don’t we, Oscar?”
    Oscar nodded. “Twelve fifteen.”
    “Can you be on it?”
    Wes leaned over, picked up the envelope without comment, and slid it into the breast pocket of his dark blue suit. “Have your car pick me up here at ten thirty.”
    “Done.”
    Stan stood up then. “Oscar will continue to be our point man onthis. If we need to talk, Oscar can set it up within twenty-four hours.”
    “He’s always got my numbers,” Wes said, turning to Toni. “Will you show our guests out, Miss Cassidy?”
    Toni stood up gracefully. “Of course. Gentlemen?”
    Oscar chuckled. “Bless you, young lady. I admire your boss’s security provisions, but we would never have found our way back to the parking deck alone.”
    Toni offered him her dimpled smile and followed him out the door. Stan and Wes were a few steps behind.
    “Two thousand and eight was tough,” Stan said. “I don’t intend to let anything like that happen again. I’m a man who likes to win.”
    “That makes us even,” Wes said. “I’m a man who hates to lose.”
    Stan slowed, stopped, looked at Wes, and blinked those watery eyes almost like he was on the verge of tears.
Here we go
, Wes thought.
    “Oscar tells me you’re an Exeter man.”
    “I’m an Exonian to my soul. Class of 1990.”
    “Did you have a positive experience there?”
    “Some of the best years of my life,” Wes said. “I hear your son is interested.”
    Stan shot another quick glance at Wes, trying to read his tone. If he knew Junior was interested, did he also know the kid’s chances of being admitted on his own merit were slim and none?
    “Yes,” he said carefully, hating the position in which his over-indulged son had placed him. “We’ve done all the paperwork and sent in references from some of his favorite teachers …”
    Of whom I’m sure there are many
, Wes thought.
    “I thought we were done with all that, then the admissions office told my wife it might
strengthen
his application if he had a reference from a distinguished alum.”
    This was Wes’s cue to offer to write the letter, make the call, put his reputation on the line for a kid he’d never met who was probablya spoiled little fuckup, but Wes couldn’t resist making Stan squirm just a little bit longer.
    “I’ve heard they do take those things into consideration.”
    Stan looked pained. “So it seems.”
    Wes knew he could prolong Stan’s uncomfortable moment simply by asking the next logical question:
How are Junior’s grades?
But what was the point? It was a done deal. He was going to write a glowing recommendation and then whether the kid got in or not, Stan would owe him a favor for putting in a good word on behalf of his idiot son. Both men knew the only thing more valuable than a favor well done was a secret well kept. This had the potential to be both.
    “I’d be happy to write a letter for your son if you think it would help,” Wes said, touching Stan’s shoulder lightly.
    A look of relief and something else crossed Stan’s face. Probably
shame
, Wes thought. Stan’s definition of being a “winner” did not include having to ask a black man for a favor.
    “I would appreciate that, Wes,” Stan said, knowing there was still one more embarrassing question he had to ask.
    “No problem,” Wes said. “Is Truman Jarrett still running the shop over there in admissions?”
    Stan nodded. “I’ll have my girl send the address over.”
    Wes smiled. “No need to. I