“Meeting adjourned,” Alex called over his shoulder as he left the sales floor.
Clifton Knowles arrived in the advertising department in time to hear the final minutes of the meeting. He watched the group disperse, stunned by what they had just been told. Clif had known Alex Rice for well over ten years and he had never seen the man behave in such a way. In spite of Alex’s personal demons, he had always treated everyone—his QC Happening staff especially—with respect, consideration, and understanding.
“Blue-eyed nigga ... who the hell he think he is? Forget this mess—”
“What’s up, C.J.?”
Charles Black looked back to find Clifton standing just inside his office. “Man, where the hell you been?” he demanded, the subtle, reserved demeanor he saved for the office having disappeared. “Ya boy done flipped,” he continued.
Clifton rolled his eyes. “I heard.”
“Screw it. I’m ’bout to roll up outta here,” Charles muttered.
Clif took a step forward, his hands rising defensively. “Come on, C.J., man, don’t do nothin’ hasty.”
“Hasty?” Charles retorted, watching his boss with an incredulous expression. “Hasty, Clif? Man, that nigga just fired the entire classified ad team and you think I’m bein’ hasty?”
“I’ll talk to him,” Clifton promised, taking a few more steps toward the wide oak desk positioned in one corner of the cluttered office.
“Don’t bother. I’m tired of this crap—stress and tension all up the ying-yang,” Charles complained, searching his desk for his car keys. “Your boy needs to recognize that it’s the ad department—retail and classified—that keeps a paper alive. It ain’t the editorial department, no offense,” he added, flashing Clif a quick glance.
“C.J., man, just calm down. Tell your people they still got jobs,” Clif said, turning to leave the office. “I’m goin’ to find that fool,” he decided.
Alex was back in his office when Clif found him. Alex was frowning furiously over last week’s edition of the QC Happening and appeared oblivious of all else.
Clif stepped inside the room and closed the door softly. “You tryin’ to decide who to go off on next?” he chided.
“You back to work or just stoppin’ in to give me grief?” Alex muttered, his eyes still focused on the newspaper.
Clif chuckled. “The conference is finished,” he assured Alex, referring to the three-week editors’ retreat he’d attended. “It was a surprise to come back and find you tryin’ to finish off the classified department.”
“Deadbeats,” Alex hissed, grimacing as he turned the news page. “Probably sit on their asses all day waitin’ for the phone to ring, instead of goin’ after a sale.”
“Aw, man, please. You know you wrong about that,” Clif argued, his dark eyes narrowing as he crossed the carpeted office floor. “You treated ’em like crap, talked to ’em like they were a bunch of nobodies. You know you were wrong.”
Alex was still focused on the paper. “We lost over twenty advertisers,” he shared.
“Aw, man,” Clif replied with a quick wave, “hell, even the dailies don’t produce gang pages of over seventy-five display ads unless it’s a real special promotion or they join retail and classified manpower. This was an ambitious sale and for the group to come out with a fifty-five-ad spread is a lot to celebrate.”
“And what happens when it’s thirty ads lost or forty?” Alex challenged, then muttered soft curses as he continued to scour the paper.
Clif lost what restraint he had on his temper. “Hell, man, what the hell’s goin’ on with you?” he demanded, pounding his fist against his palm. “You don’t fire half your ad team because some advertisers backed out of being on a page that was still a success. These are your moneymakers and you gone mess around and run your paper right into bankruptcy.”
Alex looked away from the paper, but didn’t make eye contact with Clif. “I don’t need you tellin’ me how to run my business,” he said.
“Well, you need somethin’, ’cause this shit ain’t right, Xan. Hell, dog, why don’t you just go see Topaz and—”
“Go what?” Alex retorted, his eyes riveted on Clif now. “Go see—”
“Topaz, you heard me. It’s obvious you—”
“Clif?” Alex called, his voice still disturbingly calm. “Don’t step into that, all right?” he advised.
Clif sighed and slipped both hands into his navy blue trouser pockets. “You seen her since I left town?”
“No.”
“Almost a month ... I know you miss her.”
Alex began to massage the tense cords at the base of his neck. “Clif, man, did you hear what I just asked you? Don’t step into this.”
Clif wasn’t put off by his friend’s anger. “Y’all were pretty good friends before all that crap,” he remembered. “Might do you some good to—”
“Clif, look, yeah, we were friends,” Alex snapped, his voice finally rising a notch as his emotions began to weigh in. “We were friends, then we were sleepin’ together, then we were engaged. The engaged part is over and we can’t go back to the rest.”
Clif shook his head. “And that’s what you believe?” he asked.
“That’s what’s true.”
“Man—”
Alex grabbed his keys and cell phone. “Why don’t you stay and give your advice to the walls? I need to go,” he decided and left Clif alone in the office.
