by kj lewis
“Emme,” he had told me. “Reggie is not built for this. He’s special. He’s smart and he’s got a good heart. He’ll be dead in six months if a gang gets a hold of him. You have to tutor him and get him out of here.”
“What about you Terrance? You don’t have to live this life. We can figure out something.”
“Emme, my soul was darkened long ago. I made peace with that. But Reggie, he can be saved.”
Something about the sadness and clarity in his eyes when he made that statement still haunts me.
“Grandmother said to give this to you.” Reggie pulls me from my thoughts. “She said you forgot it last night when you left.”
It’s a container of chocolate cake. Pearl is a talented cook.
“And Terrance asked me to give you this.” He hands me an envelope. I open it to find the cash I left for Pearl with a note clipped to it that says “nice try.” I chuckle and shake my head. I know if we had met on different circumstances, this would not be our story, but by caring for his grandmother, I earned his respect and, at times, his protection. There were countless times I would be coming home to our neighborhood later than I had intended to, only to find myself being escorted by part of his crew. Terrance had no problem making examples out of people if they went near Reggie or his grandmother. He protected them and the things they loved. That eventually included me.
We came to an agreement that night that Reggie’s path would be different. As I worked on building the program, Terrance saw to it that no one touched the young men in the neighborhood that Reggie said had the desire to learn and be better. It took a lot of convincing and Terrance paid the price keeping his status in The Apostles and with the other gangs. Reggie told me they all thought Terrance went soft by promising not to recruit those kids. Terrance showed up at Pearl’s for dinner one night beat to hell. He told me that everything was good to go, and he’d see to it that the kids would make it to graduation. I don’t know what happened and I don’t want to know. That was two years ago. It’s taken that long for them to graduate and for me to get the initial grants.
I open the container of cake, taking a deep inhale. It smells like heaven. Pearl has put a plastic fork in there for me. I dig in, forgetting there are others in the office. Reggie taps the desk in front of me, pulling my attention back to him. “Did you want a bite?” I ask him.
“No, ma’am,” he says, a big grin on his face. He has large ears that stick out a little. I would guess he’s slightly less than six-feet tall and might weigh a hundred and fifty pounds soaking wet. I’ve styled him with a cute, preppy boy look that I think suits his features. He has on a fun bow tie. His skin is dark as night, his stark-white shirt highlights his features.
“It’s nine in the morning and didn’t you meet Jackson for breakfast?” Adam asks as he and Graham enter my office, catching me with a mouthful of Pearl’s delicious cake.
“She did,” Reggie answers before I can.
I narrow my eyes and shoot him a look meant to intimidate him, but it only makes him laugh.
“What? You’re funny,” he shrugs when I shoot him another look. “Holt and I will be at our desk if you need us.” They shake hands with Adam and Graham on their way out.
“You want some? Pearl made it. It’s delicious.”
“Pearl still sending you food, huh?”
“I forgot it last night when I went for dinner.” Adam’s smile fades when I answer. I catch him looking to Graham whose whole demeanor has changed.
“What do you mean you had dinner with Pearl last night?” Graham asks.
“I mean, I went to her house, sat at her table, and ate her food. It’s called dinner. It usually happens after people get off work. People do it every night. You should try it,” I say taking another bite of cake.
“Your security detail didn’t report you leaving your apartment last night,” Graham says between closed teeth.
“Emelia.” He warns when I don’t respond.
“Graham.” I give him a sweet smile, hoping I don’t have chocolate in my teeth. “I might have gone out a different entrance.”
“Why?”
“Because the last thing I need is Terrance’s crew seeing two men following me. I didn’t want there to be any trouble, and I didn’t want to have to explain to Terrance or Pearl that I am surrounded by overprotective numblewads who won’t let me be.”
“What is a numblewad?” Adam asks.
“A word I just made up. Can I help you two with something?” I don’t mask my irritation.
“We have a meeting now. With Mr. Ingram,” Adam says, standing to usher us to the conference room. “I ran into him last night, and he agreed to meet with us this morning. He couldn’t make the ten or one o’clock meeting.”
Mr. Ingram is old and has two equally stuffy men with him. We take our seats, and I run through the beginning of the presentation. He never looks at me, he looks through me.
I get to a place where we stop for the first round of questions and he asks about logistics, but he only addresses Graham and Adam. Yep. This is a no. This is not going to work.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Ingram. Gentlemen,” I say standing, nodding in their direction. Manners kick in and all the men follow my lead and stand. Graham and Adam look puzzled.
“I appreciate the time out of your busy schedule, but I don’t want to waste your time by continuing the meeting. This program won’t be advantageous for you. Samantha will show you out.” I nod to Samantha, Adam’s assistant.
“You’re the one pitching me, remember?” he says with a little sting in his tone. “Care to explain?”
“You don’t value women in your company and for this program to work, I have to buy into the company as much as you have to buy into my program. You clearly don’t respect me, so how can I expect you to work with me?” I don’t blink, nor do I take my eyes off his.
It’s obvious I have ruffled his feathers. He says a curt goodbye to Graham and Adam.
“I’m surprised she let it go that long,” Graham says after they leave, checking his phone. “She clouds your judgment.”
“Excuse me?” Adam and I say in unison.
“Emelia clouds your judgment. You want her to have her heart’s desire, but you’re not taking into account at what cost. You know as well as I do that Ingram is not going to talk to, much less work, with a woman in any capacity. Emelia got it. That’s why she ended the meeting. What was your first clue?” His eyes move from his phone to me. “The way he ignored you when you presented or his question?”
“His handshake.”
Graham nods like he agrees.
“Well, we have three companies coming in…” he looks at his watch, “thirty minutes and three coming at one o’clock. We need two of them to fit or we’re back to the drawing board on who to tap next.”
“I take offense that you think I cloud Adam’s judgment. You’re not offended by that?” I ask Adam.
“I make no apologies for it. I do have a soft spot where you are concerned. I believe in this program yes, but I believe in you more,” Adam says impenitently.
“What?” Graham tries to decipher the look Adam is directing his way.
“People who live in glass houses…” he trails off as he leaves the conference room.
“Eleven-thirty, Emelia.”
“I have a meeting,” I respond dismissively.
“Cancel it or I will drag you from it.”
“Get serious.”
“Don’t believe me? You should try me.” Something about him tells me this is a promise and not a threat.
I head back to my office, stopping by Reggie and Holt’s desk.
“I’d like you two to sit in on the next meeting. We’re pitching to Burch, Johnson, and Langley. I think it would be good for you both to see the process first hand.”
“Yes ma’am,” they say.
Reggie updates me on a list of items I assigned to him. He’s working with me until he starts with Graham’s team on Monday. I l
ove all my interns, but Reggie is my treasured one. I wouldn’t want him with anyone other than Graham or Adam.
“Lunch afterwards, Emme?” he asks me.
“Sure, Reggie. I’d love to.”
I make my way back to my desk. Adam provided me with a new laptop that’s on his network. I sit and pull up the interoffice IM and address a message to Graham.
Emme James: I’m having lunch with Reggie at 11:00. Won’t be done by 11:30
I watch the screen to see if he is going to reply. I move on to reviewing the note cards I made on the men coming to the ten o’clock meeting when I hear a ping.
Graham Taylor CEO: 11:45. I’m done making concessions.
Emme James: Were you making concessions before and I missed it?
Graham Taylor CEO: Keep it up. All you’re doing is reminding me how you’ll look when I fuck your smart mouth while you’re on your knees.
My cheeks blush and I catch myself moaning out loud. Get your shit together, James. You can do this. Get a grip.
“Ready, Emme?” Reggie pulls me from my wayward thoughts.
“I’m coming.” God, do I wish I was coming. My phone rings. It’s Jules. “I’ll meet you up there,” I say to Reggie as I answer.
“Hey, babe. I’m running into a meeting. Everything okay? Can I call you back?”
“No need. Just making sure we’re still on tonight?” I can hear her getting ice out of her freezer.
“I’ll be there,” I say flatly.
“Could you be a little more excited?”
“I’ll be there!” I say in my best high-pitched, girly-girl voice.
“That’s better. Love you. See you at ten.”
I make my way to Graham’s conference room on the forty-third floor. The men already have their seats, and his staff is serving them drinks. They stand when I walk in. Again, I’m the only woman in the room.
Adam introduces me as I make my way around the room shaking hands. “This is Emme James, the brain child behind this program.”
Usually we pitch to individuals, but time and schedules have warranted we do it as a group, so I’ve had to alter my delivery. I pull from my experience working with executives like these and apply a little southern charm. After a strong finish, I turn to the table behind me to grab some packets, bending to pick up the one I dropped. The packets are created specifically for their company with profiles of the young men I have chosen for them, along with the press packet I will begin rolling out next week. I turn back around and place them on the table in front of each man.
“You’re very thorough.” It’s the usual response.
“Thank you.”
“Can you explain how you chose these young men for our company?” Johnson asks. He must be forty-five, maybe fifty, with salt-and-pepper hair. He’s what I call money pretty. Would be regular looking if he had no money, but someone has done a good job of polishing him up and making him money pretty. I wonder who his stylist is.
“No, sir.” I notice his eyes adjust a little at my response.
Graham shifts in his seat, crosses his legs, and rests his face into his hand, his first finger resting against his cheek bone, his thumb and remaining fingers against his chin. He watches Johnson’s reaction to my answer.
“Why not?” asks Burch, sitting across from Johnson.
“It’s proprietary.”
“Proprietary?” he scoffs.
“Yes, sir. It’s a formula that I have created. That’s all I can share with you.”
“And you want us to trust you when you won’t share your process with us?”
“Your packets have the statistics and a list of references, all of whom will be happy to tell you how the process has worked for them. Taylor Organization can also attest to the success they are having with the program. Mr. Hollingsworth can also provide previous experiences unrelated to the program.”
“Where are you from?” Burch asks.
“I’ve lived in New York for almost eight years. I’m originally from Memphis.”
“And how much involvement will you have personally in the process? Will you be working closely with us to oversee the program?” Johnson inquires.
“Yes, sir, I will be.” Johnson and Burch look at each other and then back down at their packets.
“Reggie? Holt? Is there anything you would like to add?”
“This is business, but personally, we will do everything in our power to make your company grow and succeed in every way. You won’t have an intern who will work harder or who will be hungrier to learn and perform than the young men in this program. You won’t regret taking a chance on us.” Reggie’s response is genuine. I smile at him like a mother would seeing her son grown for the first time. I am so proud.
I shift my attention back to the men to ask if they have any questions. Johnson is watching me, evaluating me. I can tell his wheels are turning.
“Last question.” He looks me in the eye. “Why do you only have men in your program?”
I answer without hesitation.
“Because I don’t trust the men you work with to keep it in their pants. I won’t subject young women to that. Once I learn more about you and your team’s core values, then I will be expanding these opportunities to young women.”
“That statement seems a tad judgmental.”
“I won’t apologize for it, if that’s what you’re expecting. I’ve met with twelve companies so far, including the three of you. All twelve companies are public and have a board to answer to. Each board averages ten to twelve members. Of those hundred and twenty, hundred and forty board members, four of them are women. Four. In the executive positions within the companies, only eleven are held by women.” I never break eye contact, letting the numbers sink in.
A slow sexy smile comes across his face. “Don’t hold back on our account, Miss James.” His tone makes this sound almost like a double entendre.
Graham rises, buttons his jacket, and stands next to me. This is CEO Graham.
“Gentlemen, you have your packets. We look forward to hearing from you.” He dismisses the meeting, ignoring the question on my brow and the smile on Adam’s face. Reggie and Holt show them out. Why do I feel like I was peed on? Dammit, I hate it when people handle me.
Adam catches the look on my face. Laughing, he slaps Graham on the back. “People who live in glass houses…”
“Ready?”
I look up to see Reggie standing in my door way. We are going for an early lunch before he meets with a couple of people on Graham’s acquisitions team.
“Sure. Holt?” I ask finishing an email.
“He had other plans. It’s just us.” His smile is sweet and unadulterated, but his confidence is starting to shine through. He has a stutter that the doctors say is situational, showing up only when he’s scared or really nervous. He rarely stutters anymore.
When I lived in his neighborhood, Reggie would see me coming home and run out to help carry my groceries. He would sit on a stool in the kitchen while Pearl and I baked cookies, pies, cakes, anything sweet. Reggie was always there to lick the bowl and tell us something new he learned in school that day.
When he reached high school, it became increasingly harder for him to maintain his excitement for learning. I was watching him one evening while Pearl ran errands, and that was when Terrance asked me to help Reggie get out of there.
I once asked Terrance why he was in a gang and what he thought he was proving. He tried to explain it to me.
“Emme, if I’m not in this gang, I’m dead. I’m not smart like Reggie is. I had to make my own way and do what I had to do to take care of Reggie and my grandmother. If I didn’t take charge and handle things, they would have taken Reggie. This way, I’m in charge. No one touches my family. I make sure they understand that they are off-limits. There are lots of gangs out there that do a lot more wrong than we do, but one thing they all know is The Apostles take care of our own. You mess with one, you mess with us all. That’s how I protect my family. You
think a white, blond, southern girl lives in this neighborhood and not one person ever say something wrong to her? But you care for my family, so imma take care of you. Simple.”
That was the beginning of our partnership. Our friendship. Along the way, Terrance has allowed me to care for him in my own small ways. He lets Pearl and I make him birthday cakes. He celebrates holidays with us. He tries to make it for weekly dinners whenever he can.
Where Terrance and I don’t see eye to eye is the violence. The crime. The things I imagine you have to do to stay on top when you’re in charge of a gang.
“You ate all that cake already, didn’t you?” Reggie is surveying me with his big, cheesy grin.
“It’s possible.” I smile back at him as we exit the elevator on the fortieth floor which houses the upscale eatery for Taylor Organization. There are also two outdoor eating areas off this main dining room that overlook the water. The cafeteria is staffed by a well-known chef, and the food is delicious and free to employees. Hardly anyone eats off-site unless it’s for a meeting.
Reggie and I grab what we want for lunch and head out to a table overlooking the Hudson. It’s beautiful today. I’m glad I thought to grab my sunglasses.
“I forgot my fork. Do you need anything?” I ask Reggie before heading inside to grab one.
“No, but would you grab me an orange please?”
Pearl always made sure the boys didn’t go hungry, but I still know Reggie has done some of the best eating of his life this week.
Heading back to our table, I see some guys have stopped to talk to Reggie. It makes me happy to see him making friends and getting to know people. It’s not until I move closer that I realize this is not a friendly visit.
“You know we had to work for our positions. They weren’t handed to us because our mommy was fucking the boss,” says one.
I can see the anger rising in Reggie.
“Can I help you gentlemen with something?” I ask, giving them a chance to leave and let this simply be a misunderstanding.
There’s three of them. One is definitely the leader. He looks me up and down and licks his lips.
