Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
“What about them?”
“I…well, I want to help them, of course.”
“Help them how? Tell me their issues. Tell me their problems. What’s the average income for people in that district? How are the working poor faring? Graduation rate? Voter suppression is rampant. What do you plan to do about it?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Why are you attacking me?”
“Attacking you?” I suck my teeth. “Boy, please, you ain’t ready. If you think this is an attack, try being in a debate, a hostile interview. I’m giving you the chance to show me you care about the people you would be representing. That you care enough to know how you can help them, not how this opportunity could help you.”
“You put every client though this wringer before you take them on?”
Oh, he has no idea.
“You still stepping out on Delaney?” I ask, going for that weak spot he thinks I don’t know about.
The silence between us is sticky and pulls like syrup.
“What?” he finally asks. “I don’t know—”
“I said are you still cheating on your wife?”
I hear him swallow, but no answer.
“Get your house in order,” I tell him, “before you think about running for mine.”
“Your house?”
“Oh, yes, sir. I grew up in that district, Stoke, and I may not live there now, but I’ll be damned if I’ll send an ill-prepared, incompetent narcissist who can’t keep his dick in his pants to the House of Representatives on their behalf. We have enough of those already. And I don’t care if you’re my brother. If you’re not in it for the people, you could be my Siamese twin and I wouldn’t stand with you.”
“Damn, sis. It’s like that?”
“It’s like that. What do you think I do? You think I elected a president accepting bullshit answers to tough questions? If I work with you, and that’s a big if because I’ll tell you right now, I’m not impressed, I will not be played…bruh.”
“You telling me the guys you help win elections don’t cheat on their wives?”
“Of course, half of them do. Probably more, but they aren’t carrying my last name into office.” I pause for a second before going on. “Plus, it’s trifling and your father raised you better than that.”
He doesn’t reply, but I hope he’s thinking about it.
“Be better prepared when I come home next week,” I finally say softly, “and we’ll see.”
“Thanks, Kimba.”
“I said we’ll see.” I will the rod in my back to relax. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
“Kiss Delaney and the kids for me.”
He hesitates. “I will.”
I was hard on him, but he does have potential. And he comes from a long line of activists. I’ll help him if he’s in it for the right reasons. I’d help him because I know it would make Daddy proud—that there’s nothing he’d like better than to see his only son having an impact in the city our family has given so much to.
“I got you, Daddy,” I whisper, walking over to look at D.C. sprawled beneath my office window. “I got you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ezra
“Our beans are better,” Noah whispers to me behind his small hand.
I spear a green bean tucked beneath the stuffed chicken breast and pop it into my mouth. “You’re right. Our garden is the bomb. We grow great veggies.”
We execute an exploding fist bump.
“You know my favorite kind of vegetables?” Mona asks beside me, spooning up a portion of mashed potatoes. “Free.”
The three of us laugh, as usual with Mona. The awards committee provided tickets for two guests. Noah was the obvious choice, and Mona since Aiko is out of town.
“Thanks for inviting me,” Mona says.
“Thanks for coming.”
“This is really an honor, Ezra. The whole staff is proud of you. Wait ’til your book comes out. You won’t be able to shut us up.”
I can’t help but feel proud, too. I’m writing a book about the YLA journey, and someone actually wants to publish it.
“I heard Kimba’s coming,” Mona says.
My head snaps around. “What?”
“Yeah, I ran into Kayla in the bathroom and she mentioned it. I haven’t seen them in years. We all kinda went our separate ways, huh?”
After Mom and I left, we spent the summer in New York with family. I went to camp and assumed we’d head back to Atlanta. Mom didn’t get to stay in New York for long. Before school started, my father accepted a job offer in Italy. Moving there was the best and worst thing for me. The best because even though I didn’t speak the language and it was a foreign country, I looked like many of the people. I blended in. No one asked my mother if I was adopted or stared at us when I was with my parents. I could breathe in Italy in a way I hadn’t felt free enough to do before, and it came just as I was becoming a young man—just when I needed it.