Sycamore Row

after that she filed a sexual harassment complaint with Equal Employment. The complaint was dismissed three weeks after it was filed. Her lawyer in Valdosta would not discuss the case with Clapp, said he’d lost contact with Julina, and had no idea where she was.
    When Clapp found her she was living in subsidized housing with her two teenagers and a younger sister, and she was working part-time for an oil jobber. Initially, she had little interest in talking to an unknown white man. Clapp, though, did this for a living and was adept at extracting information. He offered her $200 in cash, plus lunch, for one hour of her time and direct answers to his questions. They met at a truck stop and ordered the special, baked chicken. Clapp, a simmering racist who would never be tempted to chase a black woman, struggled to control his thoughts. This one was a knockout—beautifuldark skin with a touch of cream, hazel eyes that penetrated to the core, high African cheekbones, perfect teeth that revealed an easy, seductive smile. She was reserved and her eyebrows were perpetually arched, as if she suspected every word he uttered.
    He didn’t tell her much, not at first anyway. He said he was involved in some high-powered litigation with Seth Hubbard on the other side, and he knew they had a history. Yes, he was digging for dirt.
    She had it. Seth had come on to her like an eighteen-year-old sailor on shore leave. At the time, she was thirty-four and in the late stages of a bad divorce. She was fragile and frightened about her future. She had no interest in a sixty-six-year-old white man who smelled like an ashtray, regardless of how many companies he owned. But he was persistent and spent a lot of his time at the Thomasville factory. He gave her a substantial raise and moved her to a desk near his office. He fired the old secretary and appointed Julina as his “executive assistant.” She could not type.
    He owned two furniture factories in Mexico and needed to visit them. He arranged for Julina to obtain a passport and asked her if she wanted to accompany him. She took it more as a demand than an invitation. But she had never left the country and was mildly intrigued by the notion of seeing a bit of the world, even though she knew a compromise would be involved.
    “I doubt if Seth was the first white man to chase you,” Clapp said.
    She smiled slightly, nodded her head, and said, “No. It does happen.” Again, Clapp tried to control his thoughts. Why was she still single? And living in a subsidized apartment? Any woman, black or white, with her looks and figure could parlay them into a much better life.
    Her first trip on an airplane was to Mexico City. They checked into a luxury hotel—two adjoining rooms. The dreaded knock on her door came that night, and she opened it. Afterward, lying in bed with him, she was disgusted by what she had done. Sex for money. At the moment, she was nothing but a prostitute. She bit her tongue, though, and as soon as he disappeared the next day she took a cab to the airport. When he returned a week later, she was fired on the spot and escorted out of the office by an armed guard. She hired a lawyer who slapped a sexual harassment claim on Seth, whose own lawyer was horrified by the facts. They quickly capitulated and wanted to settle. After some haggling, Seth agreed to a lump sum payment of $125,000 in a confidential deal. Her lawyer kept $25,000, and she had been living off therest. She wasn’t supposed to reveal that to anyone, but what the hell. It had been five years.
    “Don’t worry, Seth’s dead,” Clapp said, then told her the rest of the story. She listened as she chewed the elastic chicken and washed it down with sugared iced tea. She had no feelings for Seth and did not pretend to. She had practically forgotten about the old man.
    “Did he ever say anything about preferring black women?”
    “He said he didn’t discriminate,” she said, slower now. “He said I wasn’t the first black one.”
    “When did he say these things?”
    “Pillow talk, you know? I’m not getting involved in a lawsuit.”
    “Didn’t say you were,” Clapp tried to reassure her, but she was even more careful. Clapp knew he had once again stumbled onto something huge but played it cool. “But I’m sure the lawyers I work for would be willing to pay for your testimony.”
    “Is that legal?”
    “Of course it’s legal. Lawyers pay for testimony all the time. Every expert charges a