A Brassy Novel that Deals with Black-on-Black Conflict in the Workplace

CHAPTER 1

June 21, 1994

Daven went off. "Get them figures out of your head, Charvette! I don't know anyplace

you can go in this city making that kind of money!"

     Daven Savage was a forty-three-year-old woman of Lithuanian descent who had lily-white skin that was fabricated with a gorgeous tan. Her salon tans, Lancome makeup, and well-toned body made her look well kept and extraordinarily beautiful. Although short, at 5'3, it was her aggressive persona and her high paying position that made her height go unnoticed and caused many employees to be intimidated by her. The power image that she created for herself as she climbed the corporate ladder was certified with the final touches of expensive jewelry and designer suits.

    Charvette N. Lee was a beautiful, tall, black female, who carried herself with grace and in a brave-sensuous-strut, all wrapped into one. She wore Perry Ellis' 360^o parfum, Flori Roberts makeup, and preferred to wear pantsuits over pantyhose and dresses. Charvette felt more powerful and free in her loose-fitting pantsuits that gave her crotch an opportunity to breathe in a stressful corporate environment that sometimes heated her body.

    As Charvette was fighting for the money she deserved, she was sitting across from Daven who held the second highest position at Datavele as head of corporate administration.

    Datavele was a large software company, with a new office currently underway in Japan. The Chicago office, which employed more than four hundred employees, with only twenty African-Americans, was the corporate headquarters in the John Hancock Center, at 875 North Michigan Avenue.

    Daven continued to lavish herself in her false infinite power, as she proudly held their meeting in her large corner office overlooking Lake Michigan.

    Charvette continued to sit confidently in her rare attire - wearing a Jones of New York short black skirt with a white silk blouse, and black leather pumps that gave more definition to her shapely legs.

    Daven positioned herself just as confidently if not more, by sitting as tall as she could to add more height to her short stature while wearing a white Ellen Tracy suit. The full body of her golden brown hair gave her a sexy appearance with a voluptuous wave hanging seductively over her right eye.

    Before the heated discussion ignited with Charvette's rebuttal to the verbal assault from Daven, they were interrupted by John, who was one of the three black mail clerks in the mailroom. John's first knock on the door was not heard, so he assumed that Daven was not in her office and opened the door to deliver her mail. After he was surprised to see that she was in her office, he was visually attacked the minute he opened the door. John read the disturbing look in Daven's eyes and immediately apologized as he sensed a corporate "cat fight" in the midst. In a split second, after glancing at the two women, John noticed their executive, yet luring garb and the boxer expressions on each of their faces. He thought to himself, I would hate to be the referee for this sh-- . John noticed Charvette sitting in her sistah-tough-pose, looking self-assured for any battle from corporate America to the hardest streets in Chicago. Charvette slowly relaxed her tensed face and avenging eyes after seeing John. It was her few seconds of "time out" which gave her the opportunity to quickly plan her counterattack. After saying "sorry," in a stern and swift voice, John placed the mail on Daven's desk, stole another omnipotent glance, then left the office with a vivid view of the entire scene in his mind.

    Once the door was closed, Charvette immediately retaliated. "First of all let me explain something to you, Daven. I don't know where you get off telling me to get them figures out of my head. Those figures are fair. I'm asking for $30,000 to do a job that has a starting rate of at least $35,000. The last time I checked, that was the starting salary for telecommunications analysts. What I'm asking for is modest, not to mention the fact that I have five years of computer experience, a bachelor’s degree in business administration, from Loyola University, and one year of post graduate work in computer service administration from another college . . . And you're going to try to sit here and tell me that I'm not qualified?"

    "I didn't say you weren't qualified, Charvette. I merely stated that I don't know anyplace you can go in this city making that kind of money. It's not realistic."

    "Realistic?! That is realistic. Oh, I guess because I'm black, you think that I shouldn't make that kind of money. Is that it, Daven?"

    Daven's face turned red. "Race has nothing to do with this!"

    "I think race has everything to do with this. I have all the qualifications I need. I've been in the computer department for three years and I proved myself to this company. If you didn't think I was qualified to do this job, then you would not have selected me for the position. I can't believe you're only offering me $1,000 for this promotion."

    "It's not a promotion, Charvette! It's a change in responsibility and if you prove yourself, we may then consider you for a promotion. And may I remind you that you will be on a probationary performance period for the next six months."

    Charvette sighed deeply, thinking to herself, there is no winning with these people. "How can you say it's not a promotion, Daven?! You're taking me out of the data services department, putting me in the telecommunications department, which I will be managing by myself, and you're changing my title from computer operator to telecommunications coordinator. Yet, you're saying that it's not a promotion. If that's not a promotion, then what is it?!"

    "It's a job that you can either accept or reject, while keeping in mind that the latter decision will put you in the unemployment line. If you don't accept the position, there will be nothing else here for you." Daven rested her case with confidence, as she pulled out a cigarette from her gold case, lit up, and propped her legs on her long marble desk while reclining in her large executive chair that nearly swallowed her. The beige leather chair and marble desk were two examples of the power symbols in her office that made her feel competent in spite of not having a college degree. Daven studied Charvette very carefully, feeling victorious even before the decision was made. Charvette, on the other hand, felt trapped as she drifted off into the fear of the ultimatum that was handed down to her. For a moment, she stared out of the huge window, with its beautiful view of Lake Michigan, and envisioned a prosperous future for herself that rested on the wings of faith. This was something she always visualized whenever she meditated on various scenes of nature and questioned her destiny. She bravely returned to the matter at hand and looked at Daven. Daven was waiting for her to surrender, while blowing out her last inhalation with ecstasy which rode on the reply she anticipated from Charvette. Charvette looked dead into her ocean green eyes, regained her composure, and aborted any signs of intimidation.

    "I have to get back to you on this, Daven."

    Daven was surprised by her professional reply and took a moment to recover from Charvette's confidence. "Alright, Charvette. You have three days."

    "Three days?"

    "Three." She looked at her calendar. "So that will be this Friday, the twenty fourth. We're almost at the end of June and our new fiscal year starts the first of next month. I will need your decision as soon as possible so we can squeeze you into the budget if you decide to take advantage of this golden opportunity. Now, I have some business to attend to."