Chapter 11 #2
“Terrence, you said what you said, and I heard you the first time. I just made sure you heard me . Thank you for inquiring. I won’t be in touch,” I concluded.
Terrence’s shoulders sagged. Then he stood—awkward and humiliated.
Before he could make it out, Chi shook his head slowly, stepping into his path with a smug grin.
“Nigga, this ain’t Grindr or Glassdoor; know the difference next time.”
Terrence didn’t say a word. He just left with his head held high and pride limping behind him.
Chi shut the door right behind him and wasted no time exclaiming, “Aesthetic? Flexible? Man, that nigga was trying to represent you personally. He was here looking for him a D-A-D-D-Y,” he clowned.
“He better find one who hugs back and doesn’t carry a Glock,” I muttered. “Go get the next person.”
Chi smirked on his way out, and less than a minute later, the glass door opened again.
In she came—light-skinned, maybe five feet one on a good day, with a bounce in her step like she’d just won a game show.
Her caramel curls were pulled into two high puffs, and she wore a baby pink pantsuit with rhinestone buttons that sparkled like she planned to twirl in place and say “ta-da” any minute.
Nude pumps, glossy lips, a notebook clutched to her chest like it held all her hopes and dreams.
Too much pep. Too much shine. Too much yes in a world full of hell no .
“Hi, I’m April!” she chirped, grinning widely like we were long-lost friends. “Oh my God, you’re even more handsome in person!”
Yeah… It’s gonna be a no for me, dawg.
April wasn’t just excited; she was fan-girl excited. And that kind of energy? In my world? Got people fired or found.
She moved in for a hug like that was The Bachelor finale.
Chi slid in front of me like a linebacker. “We don’t do physical touch, but you can sit… over there .”
April blinked, caught off guard, then giggled like Chi just flirted.
“Oh wow! I love the energy in this room! So alpha!”
I shot Chi a look that said don’t say a word.
She finally sat, crossing her legs dramatically. “So… I just wanna say thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I’m very passionate about brand management, especially for high-level clients like yourself, Mr. Kors.”
“Mm-hmm,” I muttered, glancing down at her résumé… or rather, the glittery sheet of vague generalities and Canva graphics masquerading as a résumé.
“So, April, do you have any direct experience in real estate development PR?” I questioned.
She twirled a curl around her finger. “Well… not directly. But PR is PR, right?”
Chi cleared his throat without looking up. “Wrong.”
April giggled like we were playing a game show.
“I figured you could, like… teach me. I’m such a fast learner! I watched every season of Selling Sunset .”
“What’s three percent of $1.2 million?” I challenged her.
“Like… a lot?” she offered with a shrug and a sugary smile.
I rubbed my temples and tried again. “Alright. Say one of our properties catches negative press from a failed inspection. What’s your first step?”
She perked up. “Oh! I’d post a cute selfie in front of the building and put ‘vibes were off today, but we still slay.’ Hashtag damage control.”
Chi looked over at me and mouthed, “ This can't be real”.
I leaned back. “Last question, April. What made you apply for this position?”
She batted her lashes. “Honestly? I saw your picture on the company website… and I said to myself, ‘God didn’t give me this body and charisma just to waste it on bottle service forever!’”
There was a pause. Chi let out a low whistle.
“Thank you, April. We’ll be in touch,” I said.
“Oh, ok. Did I do something wrong?”
Chi leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his eyes squinted like he was about to break some devastating news.
“Listen…” he began, glancing at me, then back at April. “I’ma keep it a stack—if you get a call back, it’s because we was drunk or high when we went through the folders again.”
Usually, I’d try to clean up whatever wild shit Chi said—make it sound less harsh, maybe soften the edges a little—but not that time. That time, I let it land exactly how he threw it.
“Oh-Okay.”
Once she was gone, Chi muttered, "She came in here trying to play Real Housewives of Imanio Kors. Bro, you better block her."
The third applicant came clicking into the room like the job was hers, off attitude alone—loud heels, loud perfume, and louder energy.
Soon as I saw her, it was already a hell no for me.
She had on a crisp white blouse that was one sneeze away from popping, a tight black pencil skirt, and red bottoms that had definitely seen more parking lots than galas.
Her nails were neon green with dollar signs on the pinkies, her lashes looked like they were ready to sweep the floor, and the word “Blessed” was tattooed in cursive on the side of her neck like it came with a gospel mixtape.
“Morning!” she greeted us, then plopped into the chair before we could offer. “I’m Shaquavia, but y’all can call me Sha.”
‘Sha’ popped a piece of gum and casually pulled out her phone like she was about to reply to a group chat.
Chi leaned forward, clearly entertained.
I sat back, even more intrigued—not by her qualifications, but by how far this was about to go.
Look-wise, she was disqualified on sight… but they say looks can be deceiving. Maybe, just maybe, her brain didn’t match her presentation. But then again… maybe it did.
“So, Sha, ” I started, already annoyed, “can you walk me through your resume? Specifically, any relevant PR experience?”
She waved a hand with four-inch acrylics. “Oh, baby, I do hair and PR! I did the grand opening for my cousin Peanut’s hookah lounge and made the flyer on Canva myself! It went viral—on the block. We had sixty people show up before the police shut it down.”
Chi’s eyebrow lifted. “Viral on the block? That’s a new metric.”
“Oh, and I also managed my friend’s OnlyFans page for six months. Got her numbers up before she got pregnant and retired.”
“So you consider that brand management?” I asked.
“Hell yeah! I was working on her image, her captions, and her DMs. I know how to create public interest. Even made a fake scandal once.”
"After telling me all of that, why do you think you’d be a good fit for this position?"
“Because I don’t take no shit! Period!" she replied confidently, folding her hands over her knockoff Louis Vuitton purse. "If somebody got something to say about you in the press, I’ma clap back before the ink dry. You gon’ be protected at all times."
Chi clapped and laughed.
"Look, bro. I can’t even lie; I kinda like her. She got hustle and her energy is on a thousand."
"This is PR," I muttered, unimpressed, "not a rap battle. Sha, I think you might be in the wrong interview."
She flipped her hair. “Hear me out! I got credentials! I also did six months of online communications and public speech at Morris County Tech. I got my own business page—over 12K followers—and I helped another one of my cousins get her baby daddy’s mugshot scrubbed from Google. That’s skill.”
Chi, cracking up, leaned in. "You got any DUIs?"
"Not in the last year," she answered, truthfully and a bit proudly.
"Multiple baby daddies?" he kept going.
"Three." She held up three neon nails. "But only two get on my nerves."
"You used to get into fights at school?"
"Only when bitches tried me."
“Last question. You ever done drugs?”
Sha clicked her long nails on the table, thinking.
“Hmm… define drugs . I mean, yeah, I’ve smoked a lil’ weed,” she answered, waving her hand like it was nothing.
“Tried shrooms once on accident—my cousin said it was a ‘vibe gummy.’ It was a vibe, alright; I ended up confessing to a tree. But the only time I really got into some mess,” she added, leaning in like it was a juicy secret, “was that one New Year’s when I accidentally snorted my uncle’s coke thinking it was BC powder.
My blood pressure was fixed for a whole year after that, though… ain’t had a headache since.”
Chi cackled. “Yo… she’s wild, but healthy. And… she’s honest. She might be the one, dawg.”
I looked at him like he’d finally lost what little sense he had. But then again, that was Chi I was talking to.
Sha folded her arms and tilted her head with full attitude. “What he said. So, when do I start?”
That was my cue.
“Thank you for your time, Sha.”
“Dang! It’s over already?!”
“This interview is similar to a preliminary hearing… final judgment pending,” Chi answered.
“If your qualifications match what I’m looking for, I’ll be in touch,” I clarified in a more professional tone.
“You better!” she shot back, standing and tugging at her skirt like she was clocking in next week. “I already got my outfit picked for my first day. But what you do?” she asked Chi in a salacious tone. “If he doesn’t hire me, maybe you can.” She flirted, tossing him a playful wink.
“Nah,” Chi said, letting a slow smirk spread across his face.
“You barking up the wrong tree. That loud-ass voice might work for this gig—I mean, Imanio’s hiring a publicist, so trying to be heard makes sense.
But me?” He tapped his temple. “I run a business where people who talk too much end up in a back alley with their mouths zip-tied shut. I need silence, not sound effects.”
Chi stood, towering a little closer, and opened the door for her.
“Oh—and stop flirting with me; I’m engaged. And my fiancée? Her wheelchair ain’t for sympathy; it’s her weapon of choice. It’s custom, reinforced, and she will run you over and reverse… twice. Ask around.”
Sha snapped her fingers. “Damn, she sounds spicy.”
“She is… and accurate with her aim. Trust me, you don’t want that smoke.” He motioned for her to exit. “Now go on before you end up needing a GoFundMe for physical therapy and a closed casket.”