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)
“I was not cavorting,” I say, running a weary hand over my bushy hair. “And Ezra’s not married.”
“The way you look,” Keith says with obvious relish, “you can’t tell me you haven’t been doing some cavorting, and I’ve seen the woman he lives with and his son. I just hope you don’t…how did you put it…tarnish our father’s legacy too badly.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, but with less heat than I would if he didn’t have some ground to stand on. Guilt twinges my conscience as I remember those little pink slippers under the bed. I glance down at my owned ruined stilettos. If the Choo fits…
“I’m not judging you, Kimba,” he says, the spiteful amusement leaving his expression. “I’m just asking you not to judge me, especially for something I’ve dealt with. Delaney and me, we’re working on it.”
Working on it.
That’s what Ezra said he and Aiko did, but that’s over. He’s done ‘working on it,’ and he admitted he may have started giving up after we met again.
“Monday.” I pull one desecrated Jimmy Choo off and then the other, standing barefoot and holding them by the heels. “I’ll meet you at your office Monday morning. Nine o’clock. You better have a plan. The people of this district deserve real solutions, and if you can’t prove to me you have some, I promise both of you…” I pause to include Mama in my warning glance. “There’s not enough sibling goodwill or guilt in this world to make me help your ass.”
“Fair enough, sis,” Keith says, his smile wide and genuine. “And sorry for cock blocking.”
“It was not clock blocking,” I say indignantly.
He raises knowing brows, and I remember Ezra’s prominent erection. Okay. Maybe there was some cock.
“I’m going to shower,” I settle on saying, turning toward the stairs.
My phone rings when I reach my bedroom and I pull it from the clutch.
Piers.
“Hey, what’s up?” I ask, walking into the room decorated in shades of ivory and gold.
“I have something that could be big,” he says. “On Colson.”
He sounds like a cop who’s been on a stakeout all night and has finally gotten some movement. The excitement in his voice has me coming to a halt, my toes digging into the thick carpet.
“Go on.”
“I found several female executives who’d been fired or departed abruptly from one of Colson’s companies or another for suspicious reasons.”
“Okay. And?”
“And I started digging. They cited a toxic workplace culture.”
“Toxic how? Piers, roll it out faster.”
“They were all black women who claimed to have been fired or left his companies because they’d been asked to change their hair.”
“Their hair? Change it how?”
“They were told their hairstyle was ‘too black’ and asked to find a style more appropriate for the corporate culture. Some of them complied and spoke out after they found new positions. Some didn’t and found themselves with low scores at their next performance evaluation, and eventually pushed out altogether.”
Outrage on behalf of those women bubbles up inside of me. Outrage and understanding. I know what that’s like. Working in politics in DC, I know what it’s like to feel like the token and expected to speak on behalf of an entire community. I also know what it’s like to press and perm myself into the form most likely to succeed.
“I figure if Ruiz hires us,” Piers says, “we can use this against Colson in the general.”
“Oh, no, my friend. This is how we convince Ruiz he should hire us now. Our contact over in the CNN newsroom—we still have her?”
“We have several,” he says dryly. “We did elect the sitting president.”
I swallow the nerves that always threaten to rear when I have to speak in public. It used to be that I could shove Lennix out front and avoid the spotlight, but now it’s just me. Congressman Ruiz and the rest of the world seem to doubt that I can stand on my own. But this is no time to doubt myself.
Like Mama says, I descend from queens.
“Feed her this story,” I tell him, walking over to my closet to see if I have a particular jumpsuit from Lotus’ summer collection. “Then tell her I want to come on.”
“You do?” Piers’ astonishment is clear. Everyone knows how much I hate the camera.
“I do. Make it happen.”
I hang up without waiting for a response and immediately dial Kayla.
“’Bout time you called,” she says by way of greeting. “This is what you always do. You disappear.”
“Can we fight and make up later? I need your help.”
Those are magic words. The mother in her can’t resist desperation. “What’s up?”
“You still have that great stylist? The one who specializes in natural hair?”
“Lorette, yeah. Why? You need her?”
I touch my tangled cloud of hair. “Yeah. Bad.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ezra
“Uh, maybe another two weeks.” I run a weary hand over my face and adjust my wireless headphones. “I can have the final draft to you then.”