Morrison and Mr. Miller, or either of them.“Who shall I say is calling?” the receptionist asked, looking up at Dace with a smile.“I’m Candace ...ane,” Dacey replied with a warm smile of her own, “and I work here. Or I did, anyway.”The brilliance of her smile coupled with her beauty almost knocked the poor girl flat. With a hard shake of her head, she regained control and made a call. “You may go right in,” she said. “They’re both in Mr. Morrison’s office.”Both men rose as she entered the office. I bet that nigga been to jail too. He seem like it. I know he sell ice and that's why i suspect Mom is doting drugs. She just not the same anymore.It was a Friday night and all i had planned was hanging out with my boy Mike. He was supposed to spend a night, but my Mom shut that down and said I had gig tonight. "what's a gig?" Looking all spaced and fidgety she says, "A job. A paying job. I need you to start working a little. So we can keep a roof over our head." I jumped for joy, " Heck. Jane had whispered to me that it was time. "Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for the food and for the hospitality. I know I appreciate it. It's good to be here where my wife grew up. We were thrust together by events and have come to know and love each other after we decided to stay together. I'm not disappointed. I hope she isn't either." I let the polite laughter die down."I want to talk to you about more serious matters. First, we are survivors and there aren't many of us. Most of the people. The next day, when Carol came home, mom told her that Gramma bought hersome dresses and that she, mom, knew they fit because I modeled them forGramma.Of course Carol asked what mom was talking about, and to my chagrin, momexplained.Carol, who was as big a ball buster as mom, insisted I model them, thedresses, for her. I saw no harm in that because I knew that Carol would do nothing to hurtme or embarrass me.I modeled all five dresses. Carol loved them all and said that I made apretty sister.
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