Cleo Edison Oliver in Persuasion Power

by Sundee T. Frazier

  She plunged ahead. “Hearing about Neecie, and about her parents and what happened to her mom and thinking about how when she gets older she’s going to know what happened,” Cleo hesitated, “well, it made me think that I want to know too, for myself. I want to meet my birth dad.” She looked into her dad’s dark brown eyes. “If you’re sure it’s okay with you.”

  Dad pulled her into his arms. “It’s absolutely, positively, one hundred percent okay with me. In fact, I was hoping that’s what you’d want, because I want to meet him too!”

  *

  The next day, Cleo went over to Caylee’s to view Ernie Junior’s work on the ad. The edited video showed the girls having fun on the playground, interspersed with close-ups of the clips, all set to Caylee and Cleo’s favorite upbeat song.

  “It’s good,” Cleo said. “But it’s missing something …” What would give it a little more pop? “I know! Pop-up bubbles! To show our thoughts! Could you do that?”

  E.J. clicked a few times on the screen and a dialogue bubble appeared, which he positioned over Amelie’s head.

  “Yes!” Cleo said. “You’re a genius, Ernie—I mean, E.J.” She grimaced. “Sorry.”

  He knocked her with his elbow. “Watch it, Queen of the Nile.”

  Cleo grinned. She grabbed Caylee’s arm and shook it in excitement. Caylee flopped around dramatically as if in an earthquake, and they both laughed hysterically.

  They directed E.J. to fill in the bubbles with things like “I love to sing!” and “I’m the next Top Chef!” Lexie’s bubble, highlighting her Hollywood star clip said, “Watch out, Hollywood, here I come!” which Cleo knew Lexie would love, in spite of how things were with her mom at the moment.

  They ended the promo spot with their Artsy address and their logo: Passion Clips™ in the same curlicue font she’d used on their business cards with TELL THE WORLD WHO YOU ARE! in bold small caps underneath.

  When they were done watching the final cut, Cleo threw her arms around E.J. “It’s fantastamazing! Thank you!”

  He scrunched his face and pulled away but didn’t make too big a fuss. “All right, all right. I’m glad you like it.”

  “I don’t like it. I love-love-love it!”

  First thing the next morning, Fortune and her people would find a Passion Clips ad uploaded to FortuneTube. Who knew what could happen next?

  *

  At the end of that week, Cleo came home from school with big news. Mr. Boring had let her show their FortuneTube ad in class, but even more exciting, the video had already been viewed more than a thousand times! Cleo dashed into the kitchen to tell Mom, who stood at the counter reading the label on a sealed bag of … Were those mealworms?

  Cleo rushed over. “Don’t tell me I have to redo my science project!” Then she saw that they weren’t wriggling or squiggling. “They’re dead.”

  “Yep. Although I think the manufacturer would prefer us to think of them as dried.”

  Cleo read the outside of the bag. “ ‘Chubby Mealworms. One hundred percent natural dried mealworms.’ Ewwww.” She had a horriful thought. “You’re not going to make us eat them, are you?”

  Mom laughed. “No! Not yet, anyway. But after Barkley gobbled up your worms, I did a little research and Dad was right. Insects are the up-and-coming protein source. So, I thought, why not put them in Cleo’s Canine Cookies, for added protein—and to make them stand out among all the fancy dog treats on the market these days.”

  Cleo looked at her skeptically. “You sure about that?”

  “Not entirely. But I thought, why not? Let’s take a risk! Maybe we’ll be on the cutting edge of a huge trend.”

  Cleo nodded. “I like the way you’re thinking, Mom.”

  Mom put her hand on Cleo’s shoulder. “We heard back from Kelvin Banks.”

  A surge like an electric current shot through Cleo, warming her face and making her feel a little shaky.

  “How would you like to meet him this Sunday after church?”

  Cleo bit her lip. She felt short of breath. It was what she wanted, but she was scared too. “Will you and Dad be with me?”

  “Of course!” Mom put her arms around Cleo. Cleo didn’t move. She was growing up. She was even CEO of her own successful business. But she still needed her mom’s hugs. She looked up into Mom’s face.

  “Could we buy me a new outfit first?”

  Mom’s brow furrowed. “Money’s a bit tight after your party …”

  Cleo nodded understandingly. “It’s okay.”

  “But this is too important”—Mom’s face relaxed—“not to find a way.”

  Cleo’s smiling face matched her mom’s.

  *

  Sunday, Cleo and her family barreled west on I-10, headed for Culver City. Cleo sat stiffly behind her brothers (who were singing “The Wheels on the Bus” at the tops of their lungs), clutching Beary and wearing her new clothes—a glittery gold tank top, a purple jean skirt, and gold-and-cream diamond-patterned leggings. The clothes had seemed so comfortable in the store. Now they felt itchy and tight.

  The best purchase, and her new favorite article of clothing, had been the purple jean jacket with diamond rhinestone buttons and a rhinestone butterfly on the front. It had been a splurge, and Cleo had never loved her mom more than at the moment she’d said yes to that one.

  Cleo ran her finger over the butterfly’s bumpy outline. She touched the matching butterfly Passion Clip that Caylee had made special for this occasion, just to make sure it was still in place. The rhinestones on the barrette’s wings reflected the sun in dancing dots of light on the minivan’s ceiling. Cleo moved her head to make them dance faster.

  Her hair was in a fresh twist-n-curl, which Miss Merlean had done for her the night before at Salon Go Natural. Mom had sat in the chair next to Cleo, getting her hair cut in a new, much more chic style. It was a definite improvement.

  Cleo had spent almost an hour in the bathroom that morning, mostly working on her hair, but also staring into the mirror, hoping that what she saw there would be okay. “Are we almost there?” she asked, looking out at apartment rooftops, convenience marts, and palm trees, as their minivan zipped through the busy city.

  “Where are we going, anyway?” Josh asked. He ran his hands down the sides of his Dodgers cap, cementing it to his freshly shaved head.

  “We’re going to meet Cleo’s birth father, and you and Jay are going to be on your best behavior, remember?”

  “We’re getting ice cream!” Jay yelled.

  “If you show us your best behavior,” Mom repeated.

  Jay started to sing “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider.” It made Cleo feel a little braver, remembering she was like that spider that kept climbing and never gave up.

  “So, when are we going to be there?” Cleo rotated her wrist, listening for the click in her joint and to keep from biting her nails, which Mom had polished a glittery lavender color. Normally, Mom wasn’t big on Cleo wearing polish. “Beauty comes from the inside,” she would preach—plus they chipped quickly and looked horrible, and Cleo didn’t take the time to remove the polish properly.

  “GPS says ten minutes,” Mom said.

  Ten minutes. After ten years of not knowing anything—or very little, anyway. It was almost too much for her to take.

  “How are you doing back there?” Mom asked.

  “My insides feel like they’re in a blender, my armpits are dripping worse than our bathroom ceiling, and I have to swallow to keep myself from throwing up. But other than that, I’m fine.”

  Her parents laughed, which helped her to laugh too. She ran her clammy palms over her skirt. She couldn’t let him see her sweat. It was a business maxim that went back probably to the days of the ancient Egyptians … who, by the way, were ruled by a fierce woman, brave and strong. Cleopatra.

  She was Cleopatra! Skimming down the Nile with her entourage, people dedicated to guarding her with their very lives.


  Cleopatra the pharaoh commanded loyalty, respect, allegiance. People loved her because they had to!

  He would love her.

  He had to.

  *

  When they pulled into the lot of the Caribbean Café, Cleo thought she might be sick. She was thoroughly nauseated (sitting all the way in the back of the van hadn’t helped), and she was pretty sure she’d lost the ability to move her legs.

  Her brothers leaped from the van as soon as Mom opened their door. Mom ran after them, yelling something about being in a parking lot.

  Cleo stayed put. Her ears buzzed and it was hard to focus. Was she losing her hearing and sight, as well as control of her legs?

  Dad’s head appeared through the side opening. He grinned. “Ready, Sunshine?”

  Cleo focused on his bright smile. Dad had a great smile. Just like her. “I don’t think I can do it, Dad.”

  He paused. His mouth slid to one side and he nodded a bit. “This is a big moment, isn’t it? Not too big for us though. We’re in this together.”

  She forced herself to take a deep breath. “Okay. But I mean I literally don’t think I can do it. I don’t know if I can walk.” She bit her lip. “I’m scared, Dad.”

  He reached out his hand. She grabbed it and took a few wobbly steps to the edge of the opening. She jumped and Dad held on.

  They walked toward the café together, Cleo still holding her dad’s hand. An open patio seating area was off to the left of the entrance. Mom was already there, talking to a man … a black man, with long Afro spikes that sort of burst from his head and hung down almost to his shoulders and he was tall and looked strong and he had intense-looking eyes and he moved his hands a lot when he talked and he wore silver rings and a gold bracelet that flashed and he was looking at Cleo and his smile was huge.

  Just like hers.

  He reached out his hand.

  She hesitated.

  “You must be Cleopatra.”

  She nodded. Be professional, be professional. She took his hand and gave it a firm shake. An elaborate tattoo covered his upper right arm, disappearing beneath his shirt. “Hello, Mr. Banks.” Her voice had come out more quietly than she intended. She cleared her throat and tried again, looking him in the eye. “Yes. I’m Cleopatra Edison Oliver.”

  His eyebrows jumped. Smile wrinkles appeared around his eyes. “It’s very good to meet you, Cleopatra Edison Oliver.”

  *

  Cleo tried fried plantains for the first time that day. They were now officially her favorite food. The meal was over but the conversation, which had been nonstop, continued. Cleo, sitting in a booth just a few feet from her birth dad, had done a lot of the talking. About their neighborhood, and their church, and her school, and how much she liked her class and Mr. Boring (his name made Kelvin Banks laugh). And how her best friend lived three houses away in a splendarvelous pink villa, and how she and Caylee had met in second grade and been best buddies ever since and now they were business partners too. She told him about all her businesses so far, but especially her latest, and how they had come up with the name for their personalized barrettes, and their slogan: “Tell the world who you are!” They had sold one hundred and sixty-seven individual Passion Clips already, even to someone as far away as Tokyo, Japan, through Artsy! And they had gotten over a thousand views on FortuneTube and she was expecting to hear from Fortune very soon.

  Kelvin Banks had been to the adoption agency and read all the update letters and school pictures Mom had sent over the years, which made Mom gasp and start to cry. Thankfully, she pulled herself together quickly. Cleo didn’t want this thing to turn into a big blubberfest.

  He asked Cleo about playing basketball—he had played in high school and still played for fun—and told her his favorite team was the LA Lakers, but he would start following the Sparks too, now that he knew it was Cleo’s favorite.

  She had wanted very badly to ask him about her birth mom, but she didn’t want to put him on the spot. Even more, she didn’t want to hear something that would dash her hopes that her birth mom was someone super successful, maybe even famous, like Fortune. For now, meeting her birth dad was enough.

  She learned that Kelvin Banks was twenty-nine years old, he did arts programming for a Boys & Girls Club, and he loved working with kids and teaching them about expressing themselves through poetry and spoken word and music—all things that he liked to do. She learned that he had recently started playing steel drums.

  “I love steel drums!” she exclaimed, which made her parents look at her curiously.

  “You do?” Mom said.

  “Yeah! Remember, you took me to that Jamaican steel drum concert at the Hollywood Bowl when I was eight?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ve loved them ever since!”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize. That’s great.”

  Kelvin Banks nodded and smiled like he thought it was great too.

  “I just had a fantastic idea!” Cleo burst out.

  Dad interjected, “If you haven’t figured it out already, Cleo is full of fantastic ideas.”

  Kelvin Banks raised his chin and eyebrows at the same time. “Yes, I was starting to pick up on that.”

  “Yep.” Cleo bobbed her head. “And here’s my latest: You could teach me how to play steel drums!”

  “Me too!” Jay shouted.

  “I want to play drums,” Josh cried.

  Mom quieted them both.

  Kelvin Banks laughed his deep, throaty laugh. He gazed at Cleo from his spot on the bench seat they shared. “You’re quite the go-getter, aren’t you?” He smiled his brilliant smile.

  Cleo felt the prick again, this time sharper than ever, as if a giant bee had plunged its stinger straight into her heart. She looked down, quickly, before her eyes could give away the throbbing in her chest. She nodded.

  There was an awkward silence. The first of the whole meal.

  “I should probably let your family get on with your day,” Kelvin Banks said.

  Cleo’s head snapped up. “You have to go already?”

  Kelvin Banks’s eyes shifted back and forth between Cleo’s parents. He seemed unsure of what to do or say. “Well, I …”

  Dad spoke up. “I’ll go pay the bill and then we can talk about getting together again.”

  Cleo’s shoulders relaxed.

  “Sound good?” Dad asked.

  Kelvin Banks reached for his wallet. “Sure, but let me —”

  “No, sir,” Dad said firmly. “We got this. Really. We’re just so grateful …” His words trailed off.

  Kelvin Banks nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

  Dad left the table, the boys trailing after to get the mints they had spied on the way in.

  Her birth dad’s intense eyes fixed on her. “So, Miss Cleopatra Edison Oliver, I have one more question before I go.”

  Cleo’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart ka-thunked. She didn’t want him to go.

  “Who would you tell the world you are?”

  Words swirled in her mind like a mini-tornado. Dreamer. Ideas person. Businessgirl. Basketball player. Persuader. Pancake lover. Ladder climber. Leader. CEO.

  The silence stretched as she searched for just the right words. Thankfully, the waiter came to refill their waters, giving her a little longer to think.

  Was there anything she could say to make him stay forever?

  And what about her questions? She had so many! Behind those mysterious, dark brown eyes were answers, she was sure of it. At least there would be another time to ask. Dad had said they would get together again. She took a breath.

  “I’m a girl with big dreams who won’t let anything stop her. I may be young, I may be small, but I’m as persistent as the Itsy-Bitsy Spider.” She grinned.

  Kelvin Banks got a funny look on his face. He glanced away and for a second Cleo was afraid she’d said something wrong. But when he looked back, his eyes were glistening and he
said, “That’s exactly how I was when I was your age.”

  Suddenly, she was flinging her arms around his middle and hugging him as hard as she could. His arms hovered above her, then slowly he embraced her, and the smell of spicy food and the taste of sweet plantains and the feeling of her birth dad’s arms around her mingled together and became a memory she would never forget—a coin in the piggy bank of her self that she would never, ever spend.

  Cleo sat on her dad’s lap at the ice-cream shop, hugging Beary and licking her mint-chip cone. She and her brothers wore the yellow Boys & Girls Club T-shirts that Kelvin Banks had brought them. Meeting her birth dad had satisfied one part of her, but it had stirred another part that was hungrier than ever. She felt like Micah Mitchell’s bear that had just woken up from hypernation. She laughed to herself and squeezed Beary a little harder.

  On the way home, Mom remembered that between clothes shopping, getting their hair done, and soccer games, no one had checked the mail the day before. “Will you grab it, Cleo?”

  “Sure!” They pulled into the driveway and Cleo ran to the mailbox. She riffled through the stack of mail. Cardstock ads for a Realtor and gutter cleaners, a couple of bills, the small newspaper of weekly coupons, and then … oh! Could it really be?

  Hidden behind the weekly flyer, a large white envelope with FORTUNE ENTERPRISES, INC. in gold lettering in the upper left-hand corner.

  “Mom! Dad!” She sprinted back to the driveway behind their house, but everyone was already inside. She dropped the rest of the mail on the patio table and tore open the envelope. Glossy paper peeked out. A photograph! Thankfully, she hadn’t ripped it in her fervor to open the envelope. She pulled out the photo and gazed at it in wonder. Fortune smiled at her, her teeth brilliant, straight, beautiful. And across the bottom, in bold black ink that Cleo traced with her finger, Fortune’s signature.