Chapter 6 #3
A couple of weeks ago, she would have never agreed to take the hour-long drive into New Orleans with him. Jamal took it as a sign of progress. He was going to wear her down. Eventually.
As soon as he pulled up to the enormous house on Saint Charles Avenue, Jamal knew he was staring at the future home of J.
Johnson Architectural Design. With its Renaissance-style balustrades, dome-shaped cupola, and angled bay windows, the neoclassical Italianate structure encompassed everything there was to love about New Orleans’s famed Garden District. This place felt…right.
The admission scared the hell out of him.
Nervousness, excitement, fear—they all swirled around his stomach, a gumbo of emotions that wouldn’t let up. If this turned out to be the right spot, it would put him one step closer to realizing his dream.
Jamal swallowed past the uneasy lump that instantly formed in his throat.
“It’s on the streetcar line. That’s a huge plus right there,” Phylicia said as she alighted from the passenger side. “And it’s on the corner, so there’s street parking both in the front and on the side.”
“You’re going to keep my pros versus cons list for me?” he asked.
“That sounds like a job for a personal assistant, and I am no one’s assistant.”
Jamal chuckled at her severe frown. “No, I can’t see you taking orders from anyone.”
“You’ll need to hire an assistant soon, though,” she said as they made their way up the walkway toward the mansion’s covered portico.
Jamal gave a noncommittal grunt.
“You’re not planning to be a one-man shop, are you? Not if you’re thinking of housing your firm in something like this,” she said, gesturing to the home that was no less than five thousand square feet.
“I’ll eventually hire additional architects and a support staff, but it’s still too early for me to think about that stuff.”
She looked over at him, her head tilted slightly to the side. “You’ve been in Gauthier over a year already. When will you start thinking about it?”
Tiffany’s appearance saved Jamal from answering Phylicia’s question.
Which was a good thing, since he wasn’t sure if he even knew how to answer it.
Opening this firm had been his dream for so long; the enormity of it caused his breath to hitch.
It was a huge step. And if he wasn’t careful, it could be a huge misstep.
Tiffany gave them a tour of the stately home, with its polished hardwood floors and arched entryways.
“This is amazing,” Phylicia said, running her fingers along a carved mantel. “Just look at the craftsmanship.”
“This is characteristic of many of the homes in this neighborhood, isn’t it?” Jamal asked.
She nodded. “The houses in this area were built around the same time period as Belle Maison.” She looked over at him then dropped her face into her hands. “Oh my God, you’re going to ruin this place, aren’t you?”
“Hey!” Jamal protested.
“Why? Why? Why?” she muttered. Her muffled voice held a painful edge. “Why don’t you rent out some office space in the CBD?”
“I don’t want to be in the central business district,” he said, walking over to the fireplace. “And I will not ruin this house. I’m going to update it with more environmentally friendly materials.”
Phylicia groaned, the sound not unlike a wounded animal being kicked in the stomach for good measure.
“The house is very sound, but could probably benefit from a bit of updating,” the Realtor said.
“The whole point of my firm will be to combine the old with the new,” Jamal explained. “I’ll probably replace the windows with a more energy-efficient brand, and add insulation. I can cut the energy costs by more than thirty percent.”
“If you can pull off something like that while maintaining the integrity of the house, you will have a lot of business coming your way,” Tiffany said.
“Thank you,” Jamal said. He turned to Phylicia. “At least someone thinks my ideas are good.” She just rolled her eyes.
As they continued their tour, Jamal pictured how he would set up the rooms. The first floor would house displays of green technology and a media room where he could show his clients video clips of how things worked.
The second story would house the offices.
The third floor was the perfect space for him to convert into living quarters for those days when he didn’t want to make the hour-long drive back to Gauthier.
The two bedrooms, bathroom, small living area, and decent kitchen would suit his needs just fine.
“So, what do you think?” Tiffany asked.
It was perfect.
In fact, the house was so perfect, he was tempted to write a check right now.
But something held him back, and it didn’t take much soul searching to pinpoint just what it was.
Fear.
Jamal hated to put that label on it, but it could not be denied. It was the same fear that always traveled along his spine whenever he thought about finally getting serious about his firm. He hated that fear. And he knew exactly what was driving it, which made him hate it even more.
You can do this, he told himself. Despite his father’s insistence that he wouldn’t be able to succeed without falling back on the Johnson name, Jamal knew that he could make this architectural firm work.
But instead of the words I’ll take it pouring from his mouth, he said, “I’ll have to think about it a bit more. Let me know if the owners get any more offers.”
“Of course,” the Realtor said.
He ushered Phylicia out of the house and climbed into his truck, then headed back toward the Pontchartrain Expressway.
“Would you mind taking a short detour?” Phylicia asked. “I want to see what they have at the Green Project in the Ninth Ward. They may have some pieces we can use at Belle Maison.”
“The Green Project?” he asked.
“You mean you haven’t heard of it? Mr. President of the Environmentally Friendly Club?”
“Uh-oh,” Jamal said. “Will my membership be revoked?”
“It just might.” Phylicia laughed. She guided him to the Saint Roch neighborhood, where the huge warehouse of reclaimed building material was located. They picked through vintage ironwork, brass doorknobs and bathroom fixtures, and even intricately wood-carved faceplates for light switches.
“I cannot believe you’ve never even heard of this place,” Phylicia said. “I would have thought that as someone who’s about to open an architectural firm specializing in green technology, you’d have scoped out places like this one.”
“I’m sure I would have run across it eventually,” he said. “I’m just not at that point in my plans yet.”
“How far are you?” she asked.
Jamal shrugged. “I’m still getting it all straight in my head.”
“What’s left to think about?” she asked. “You seem to be dragging your feet on this.”
“Hey, what’s with the third degree?” he asked, his discomfort ratcheting up.
“I don’t mean to pry—”
“Really?”
“—but what have you actually done to get your firm off the ground?” she continued. “You’ve got all these ideas for the business, but you’re still just sitting on them. The thing that usually stops most people is the money, but you don’t have that to worry about.”
“It’s not as if I’m in some huge rush,” he said.
“Why aren’t you?” she asked. “If this is what you really want to do… It is what you really want to do, isn’t it?”
“Of course,” Jamal said, unable to keep the defensiveness from coming through his voice.
“Are you sure this isn’t like baseball? Is the architectural firm more your dad’s dream than yours, Jamal?”
He snorted a derisive laugh. “Oh, you are so off base it isn’t even funny,” he said.
Her forehead creased in annoyance, censure thinning those gorgeous lips.
Jamal released a weary sigh. He could tell by the look on Phylicia’s face that she had no intention of dropping the conversation.
“My father didn’t agree with my decision to leave the family business,” he told her. “He told me I was wasting my time trying to start a business from scratch when he’d already built an empire.”
“Well, he has a point, doesn’t he?” she asked, examining a set of copper-plated doorknobs. “Why build from the ground up when all the hard work has already been done? You can just incorporate your ideas for your firm into your family’s company.”
“That would never happen,” Jamal said. “If you think you have a problem with this new-age green technology, just sit down and have a conversation with Lawrence Johnson.”
“He can’t be completely against it,” Phylicia reasoned. “As much as I give you a hard time, I know there is merit to becoming eco-friendly. And, again, I am not completely against it. I agreed with your decision to add a solar water-heating system, didn’t I?”
He sent her a small grin. “It was time for me to leave the family business,” Jamal continued. “My dad and I were never going to see eye to eye, and he wasn’t about to give up the reins to the company.” He shrugged again. “I didn’t want to be under his thumb any longer.”
“Which takes us back to my initial question. Why haven’t you made more progress setting up your firm?”
Because if it failed, it would prove his father right.
He didn’t say it—hell, this was the first time he’d allowed himself to mentally voice the thought—but, in his gut, Jamal knew that’s what was holding him back.
He shrugged off her question, making him feel like a world-class coward. But he wasn’t up for this discussion.
Phylicia, on the other hand, just wouldn’t let it drop.
“If you want to do it, I say it’s time for you to go in one hundred percent.
I’m not sure what you’re looking for, but I think the house we just visited was phenomenal.
On the pro-versus-con tally I’ve been keeping in my head, the pros far outnumber the cons,” she said. “I think you should go for it.”
“Will you be available to help me restore it?” he asked.
“There’s nothing to restore,” she said. “The house is in pristine condition.”
“Hmm…” he said. “I guess I’ll have to come up with another way to keep you around.”