The Retreat. Dijorn Moss
hello…just right into criticism. Sister, you would’ve made a great Sadducee, because you love to judge people,” Chauncey said.
“So now you think you’re Jesus?” Nicole snapped back.
Whatever excitement Chauncey felt to talk to his baby sister had left by the time she started talking. He had just escaped a life-or-death situation, and his sister’s accusatory attitude was not the response he needed or wanted.
“Oh no, I’m supposed to see him, I just had something more important to take care of,” Chauncey said.
“Just get over here. You know how bad traffic is on the 405 around this time,” Nicole said.
Chauncey hung up the phone as he sped away. He wondered how in the world he would ever truly be able to do God’s will when his family was in constant need of his help.
Chapter Three
“Not the response that I expected.” Melvin, Jamal’s boss, adjusted his platinum Day-Date Rolex.
Jamal began to loosen his tie and unfastened his top button. “I am happy. I’m ecstatic. This is what I want.”
“I remember when you sat in that chair five years ago, nervous and scared. It was like your entire future rested on you getting this job. But day in and day out I’ve seen you hustle your butt off to get results.”
Jamal had worked for that promotion every day for the past four years. To become a senior marketing exec for Pinnacle Sportswear was his goal. He was sick and tired of living from dime to dollar. Jamal’s family raised him on the idea that if a person wanted something, he had to be willing to work harder than the next man to get it. That meant that when everyone else was asleep, he needed to be at work.
So he made a solemn promise to work while everyone else was at the water cooler, engaged in gossip. Jamal would work while his coworkers complained about their salaries. He never lost sight of his goal and purpose. With his faith in God, he now had everything he wanted career-wise, but his mind could not allow him to savor his victory.
Jamal thought about his son, Jamir, and how every day Jamir resembled him less and less. His life was at a crossroads, and with so many life-changing decisions at his feet, Jamal turned to the only one who knew what the best course of action was for his life.
“Father, open my eyes so that I might see the wonderful plan you have for me. I don’t want to be outside your will, and I pray that the results today will bring you honor and glory. In Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.” Jamal prayed.
“If I had your wisdom at my age, I would be a billionaire by now. But understand we are not going to pay you this salary for a nine-to-five, forty-hour workweek. We are going to need you to be a machine. Can you live with that?” Melvin asked.
Jamal locked into his problem: a $100,000 salary in exchange for time with his most precious resource, his son Jamir.
“Can you?” Melvin asked.
“I know I can, I just need a minute to get my affairs in order.”
Melvin pulled the cigar out of his mouth. “I’ll tell you what, take until next week to think about it, and on Monday I expect your answer.”
“Thank you, Mr. White.”
This weekend was the Men’s Retreat, and Jamal would have a lot to think and pray about. He walked back to his cubical, where he had a decent view of the parking lot. He also had a view of his car: a white Honda Civic with a dented front bumper. This is where he was. Mr. White’s offer was where he could be.
“How did it go?” Mylessa asked, interrupting Jamal’s thoughts.
Mylessa was a five-foot-six-inch-tall, chocolate-complexioned beauty with a curvaceous frame. She commanded the attention of every man in the office, including Jamal.
“It went great. He offered it to me.” Jamal leaned back in his chair.
Mylessa wore a smoky gray skirt that was sprayed to her hips. Her complete body of work was punctuated by the sound of her four-inch stilettos. “Well, that’s great. So you’re going to celebrate, right?” Mylessa tossed some of her shoulder-length hair behind her shoulder.
Jamal was certain that it was a weave, but with the advancements in hair technology, it was becoming more and more difficult to differentiate real hair from a weave; such was the case for Mylessa.
“I might do something, I don’t know yet,” Jamal said.
“Well, a couple of us from work are heading over to Club Infusion tonight, and I would love to see you there.” Mylessa finished her pitch with a seductive licking of her lips, as her eyes scanned Jamal from head to toe. Jamal was feeling her. She was beautiful, intelligent, and had a great body. Jamal was certain that by the end of the night, they could be at his place eating cheesecake while listening to Sade, right before they headed to the bedroom and made some music of their own. The thought alone awoke some urges within Jamal.
“I would love to, but I’ll have to pass,” Jamal declined.
Mylessa slumped down from his news. “Well that’s too bad. Maybe we could get together for a drink one day?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t drink.”
“Oh, so you’re just a good little church boy.”
“I go to church, but I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m good.”
“You’re better than most men,” Mylessa said as she looked back to a group of guys who had been eyeing her and chuckling ever since she’d walked over to Jamal’s cubicle. “Some other time.”
“Have fun tonight and be safe,” Jamal said as he returned to his computer. But he was unable to shake thoughts of the curvaceous Mylessa.
Terry, Jamal’s coworker, walked past Mylessa and stared at her from behind. Jamal saw Terry coming and decided to turn on his iPod with Marvin Sapp playing.
“What’s up, pimpin?” Terry asked.
“Nothing, just trying to get work done,” Jamal said while typing on his computer.
“So what did big-booty Mylessa want?”
“She invited me to Club Infusion.” Jamal shrugged.
“You’re going to go, right?” Terry leaned in.
“Naw, I have plans.”
“What plans could you possibly have that beat getting the hottest girl in the office to make you grits butt-naked?”
Therein lay the reason Jamal did not like to interact with Terry. Thirty years old and Terry was still mistaking the office for a school playground. Jamal ignored him, and eventually Terry left. The day was almost over, but it was only Monday and the week was still young. Jamal felt the vibration from his cell phone, and a familiar number appeared. Jamal pressed talk to answer the phone, but held it down by his black slacks until he made it to the lounge, which was across the way.
“What’s up?” Jamal asked.
“The results came in,” Chantel said.
Jamal’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest. He knew the results would be in today, but he was not sure if that was good news or bad.
“I’m on my way.” Jamal hung up the phone. Two pieces of news in one day.
Jamal left the lounge and went back to his desk to shut down his computer and grab his black messenger bag. He made his way toward the elevator and passed by his coworker, Christal.
“You leaving early?” Christal asked with her mouth open.
Christal reminded Jamal of Serena Williams. She had both Serena’s facial features and curves. Even though Jamal found her attractive, she spent way too much time in the club, and while at work, she made gossiping her full-time job.
“Yeah,