Essex
I leave the conference room with my mind spinning, thoroughly displeased with myself, met by Ms. Davison’s confused gaze. I don’t say a word to her – just beeline it to my office where I close the door and press the button that lowers the blinds. I can’t believe how poorly things went, but all I can attest to are the memories – bad memories. The hurt. The pain. Being close to Quintessa Bailey again has me thinking about how my life used to be. I wasn’t always a successful CEO. The old me wasn’t remotely as confident as the new me. Back then, I was a nobody.
Shanice taps on the door, pokes her head inside, and asks, “Can I get you anything, Mr. DePaul?”
What she really wants to know is why the interview ended so abruptly, but I won’t give her the satisfaction of an answer. I say, “Yes. Coffee.”
“Sure thing.
I lean back in the chair with my hands threaded behind my head. I know I won’t be productive today because of what I’ve done. You couldn’t tell from the interview, but I want Quintessa to work here. I hired a headhunter to find her and submit a resume to them so they could, in turn, submit it to DePaul & Company on her behalf. I knew she had the skills to do the job, and I wanted her close to me – wanted to know all about her life. So, I handpicked her resume for this position, then gave the recruiter the green light to contact her and finally, after all the pieces worked together harmoniously, she was here today for her interview. But I messed it up because the anger took over. The resentment. The new me wouldn’t let the old me – the more compassionate man – treat her with kindness. Why? Because she hurt me – hurt me to my core. I’ve harbored a grudge against the girl for the longest and today, I realize that hurt and pain is still there, but so is the attraction. Maybe it’s not such a good idea that we work together.
I’ve known Quintessa Bailey since we were classmates. When I was fourteen, my parents moved us from Detroit, Michigan to Tallahassee, Florida. I was a freshman in high school at the time – the new fat kid with no friends, trying to get along with a whole new set of people after the last set despised me, thinking it would be different. Not only was I overweight, but I had a massive birthmark that extended across nearly half of my face. No one wanted to be my friend back in Detroit and no one wanted to be my friend in Florida. I was laughed at, teased constantly, and called names I dare not repeat. People would walk by me and say ‘it’s not Halloween yet’ or they’d call out my name to get my attention, then hurry up and turn away from me as if I was that repulsive. I was all set to drop out and throw in the towel because there was no place for me. But my father talked me out of it. He encouraged me to keep going. Said he didn’t want me to be a high school dropout like he was. He wanted me to make something of myself. Said people were going to talk about you, regardless. So, my life became someone else’s because I wasn’t living for myself. I was existing to make him happy – to make my parents proud of me and that’s what kept me going for a while.
Turns out, it was the best decision of my life because a few days later, I met Quintessa, or shall I say she met me? I was in the cafeteria, walking with my tray, looking for somewhere to sit, when she waved me over to her table. I turned around to make sure she wasn’t talking to someone else. There was no one there. She was talking to me. She had just finished eating, so she stood up from her chair so I could sit while she sat on the floor beside me. I was elated. Someone wanted me around. She introduced herself as Quin and proceeded to acquaint me with all of her friends. Since that day, we were inseparable – ended up being the best of friends, but I wasn’t as close with her friends as I was with her. Didn’t want to be. She’s all I needed. All I wanted. My Tessie. That’s the nickname I gave her. Tessie. She was always there for me. She helped me with my homework. To this day I remember how good she was at math and biology – so good it impressed me and her teachers. There was nothing Quintessa Bailey couldn’t do. She won awards, ran track and was on the swim team. She was an all-around good girl. A girl I wanted.
Everything was all good until we graduated from high school. That’s when we lost touch. She got accepted at Florida State University. I got in at the University of Florida. I knew the distance would prove a challenge to our friendship, but I didn’t think I’d lose her altogether.
That’s exactly what ended up happening.
She took her studies seriously – so serious that on holiday breaks, she couldn’t take the time to come home to visit as I’d always done. Every holiday or spring break, I hoped to see her. Don’t get me wrong, I worked hard, too, but I still took the time to go home and visit. I visited her parents, too, hoping they’d tell me when she was coming home. She never did.
Since I couldn’t be with the woman I wanted, I used my energy to focus on school until I walked across the stage with a Bachelor’s in Analytics and Accounting. I worked for a firm for a while, but my ultimate goal was to start my own company. The problem was, I didn’t have the confidence to do it. I felt good about my abilities, but not about myself, my appearance and weight. So, I hit the gym hard, lost all those extra pounds and toned up. And then the time came to address the hideous birthmark on my face.
On a whim, I decided to have plastic surgery to finally give myself the gift of a normal appearance. The procedure was more successful than I could have ever imagined. I didn’t recognize myself afterward – I was a whole new man with a new face. I was a man who women noticed for the first time. I went from having no prospects to so many, I didn’t know what to do with them all. I went out, had fun, and dated for the first time in my life. I was the man.
But I wasn’t happy. I didn’t want a woman to want me because, post-surgery, I was a heartthrob. I wanted a woman who saw me before the weight loss and new face.
I wanted Quintessa.
To have any chance of getting her, I knew I still had work to do. I had to find the confidence to match my new face, so I studied how powerful men in business behaved. I went to seminars where I learned how to master public speaking. For years I did this until I became a man who people could respect. And to put the icing on the cake, I legally changed my name from Stewart Dennis, Jr. to Essex DePaul before starting DePaul & Company at twenty-six years old. The name change wasn’t well-received by my folks, but when I explained to them it was something I needed to do for the vision I saw for myself – for my life – they eventually came around. Besides, they’d seen all the other changes I’d made. They knew I was serious about this new direction in my life.
Now, at thirty-four, I run a million-dollar accounting firm. I have two hundred employees and have more clients than I ever thought I would, and I’m talking high-level companies and industries in the eastern United States. My life is sweet. The only thing I’m missing is a woman to complete it all – to inundate my world with hers, give me children and the life I crave.
Shanice taps on the door again, then enters, setting the coffee cup on my desk.
I tell her, “Hold my calls for the rest of the day.”
“Sir, you realize you have a conference call scheduled with Walbridge Industries at noon.”
“Reschedule it for me, please.”
“But you never reschedule potential clients, sir, especially Walbridge. You’ve been trying to secure that business for a while.”
I massage the tense muscles in my neck and say, “I said reschedule it!”
“Yes, sir. Will do. Do you have a particular date in mind?”
“Whatever date is good with them.”
“Got it. Also, I was curious about the interview. Is everything all right?”
“Yes. Peachy. You can go now.”
When she leaves, I rub my forehead and replay the short time I spent in the conference room with Quintessa. I can still hear the mellifluous tone of her voice flowing through me like waves. She didn’t recognize me. I suppose that worked in my favor. She doesn’t need to know who I am just yet, but now I have some fences to mend because she will work here. Working for my company will give her time to get used to my new persona. I’ll never be the fat, ugly kid from high school again. I’m the complete package. I have money, I have the looks, the body, the bad boy persona – I’m what they want.
I drink coffee and pick up the pen, clicking it open and closed again, picturing her oval-shaped face in my mind. She looks so different than she did back then. She’s matured into a gorgeous woman – a woman whose beauty strikes anyone who has the pleasure of looking at her – reminds me of the actress, Christina Milian. Is it her smooth, exotic chocolate brown skin complexion that has me reeling? Or perhaps those heart-shaped, red-gloss-covered seductive lips? Her hair is longer – that I can tell even though she had her strands gathered up in a top bun or whatever you call the knot women wear at the top of their heads. I can imagine her naturally curly strands framing her face. She’s taller, too, but not by much. It almost looks like she had a late growth spurt. I could see her true height after she slid out of her shoes – about five feet four. Her alluring eyes are a magnetic brown, just as I remember. They caught my eyes constantly, but I fought the urge to stare into them. Overall, Quintessa has a beautiful face that any man would appreciate. I know she’s not married – she wasn’t wearing a ring – but I wonder if there’s a boyfriend in the picture. I sure hope not. No man will appreciate her the way I do. I know who she really is. I know her heart.
And she has no idea I’m the loser she befriended back in high school.