Chapter 11 #4
He was giving “I’m that nigga” energy—like the rapper Future walking into court and still pulling numbers.
No lie—his ass was looking and smelling almost better than me.
Shid, I was about to ask him if he came for the publicist position or mine.
That type of calculated clean let me know he wasn’t just trying to make a good impression; he wanted to be remembered.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” he greeted us with a smooth, commanding voice. “Jasper Perry. Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Kors.”
Chi tilted his head. "Perry? That name sounds rich as hell. You related to Tyler Perry or something?"
Jasper chuckled with a charming smile. “Not that I know of but wouldn’t be mad if I was.”
“Let’s get into it,” I said, gesturing to the chair, having no time to waste.
Jasper sat with perfect posture, hands folded neatly.
“Before we begin, let me get this out the way so we don’t waste each other’s time because I just dealt with this in the last few interviews.
If you’re on the down low, here to flirt, or using this job as a front for something else, this isn’t the place for that.
If you don’t have real knowledge of real estate, no understanding of how this business functions, or think professionalism is optional depending on your mood, you’re not a fit.
And if you bring ghetto energy into my boardroom—loud talking, personal agendas, slick comments, street code behavior—you won’t last a damn minute.
This is my father’s company, yes, but in all honesty?
I’m really the CEO at this point. He put me in charge of overseeing the parts that matter most, and I take that seriously.
So if you’re not here to work, contribute, and operate on a level of discipline and clarity, then we can both save time. ”
The man nodded once, straightening his posture as he folded his hands in his lap.
“I can assure you, Mr. Kors, I’m here strictly for business.
I’ve studied your company—everything from the property acquisitions to the marketing shifts you implemented over the past two years.
I’m not here for clout or comfort. I’m here because I believe I can add value, and I respect what your team has built.
I understand the environment you’re trying to protect.
If given the opportunity, I’ll work to uphold it. ”
“Very well then. So tell me about your last three clients and one major challenge you solved for each.”
Jasper pushed a folder across the table.
“That’s my portfolio. It includes analytics from my last campaign, crisis response strategy templates, and some mock-ups for reputation revamps.”
I hesitantly opened it.
“Client one—celebrity divorce scandal. We spun it into a brand reinvention centered around self-love and therapy advocacy. Client two—corporate embezzlement issue. We coordinated a complete internal restructure and ran a two-month transparency campaign. Client three—an athlete with multiple social media controversies. We rebranded his image, booked him for youth mentorship events, and got a sneaker deal out of it.”
I narrowed my eyes. "Metrics?"
“Increased engagement by 187% on IG, added three major brand partnerships, and cleared negative press off page one of Google in under 30 days each.”
Chi blinked. “Damn. I feel like you just fixed my childhood trauma.”
Jasper chuckled again. “Happy to help.”
My tone dropped lower. “How do you handle working with volatile personalities? Clients who don’t listen? Clients who ignore protocol? What about people who make snap decisions based on gut instead of guidance? How do you navigate that?”
“I adapt,” Jasper answered smoothly. “I’ve worked with worse… I assure you.”
Chi leaned forward. “You ever had to talk a client out of throwing a chair during a press conference?”
Jasper grinned. “Yes… twice . One of them still ended up throwing it. We spun it as performance art.”
Chi whispered, “He’s slick.”
Too slick. I thought.
I stared at him a beat longer, like I was trying to peel off a mask he wasn’t wearing.
“What made you apply for this job?” I asked out of curiosity.
“I admire your brand, Mr. Kors. Urban power with luxury class. Most companies don’t know how to balance the two. You do. I’d like to be part of protecting that legacy.”
It sounded good… too good.
I nodded. "We’ll be in touch. We still have a few more candidates to interview,” I lied.
Jasper stood, flashed that toothpaste commercial smile. “Of course. It was nice meeting the both of you. Take care.”
As soon as the door closed, Chi turned slowly.
“Now that was a 401(k)-built negro.”
“I don’t trust it,” I replied. “He looked familiar… like I’ve seen him somewhere; maybe a press event or a fundraiser. Something was definitely off about him.”
Chi nodded. “Yeah. He had a little ‘plant’ energy… like a well-dressed fed. He knew his shit, though.”
“Yeah.” I sighed, running my hand down my face. “Aight, go get the next person.”
Chi stood, cracking his back with a loud yawn.
“A little FYI, she is the last one for today, and after the bullshit I’ve seen and heard today, I’m sorry, bro, but I can’t help you with another round of this shit.”
The way the interviews were set up, if I didn’t find someone that day, we’d just reschedule the rest for the following week.
On so real shit? I was over it too—the interviews, the forced politeness, and pretending like I hadn’t already made up my mind a minute in.
So yeah, I hoped like hell the next person who walked through that door had every damn qualification I was looking for, because if they didn’t, I’d be stuck running my own PR, or worse—hiring Dessign, Chi, or God forbid, rehiring Giselle.
And if it ever got to that point? Yeah, go ahead and stamp me officially desperate.
“So either you gon’ choose her, or we gon’ be circling back to our other options.
” Chi started counting off on his fingers.
“Let’s see… we got Mr. Too-Perfect-to-Be-Trusted —looked like he practiced his answers for weeks.
Miss I-Only-Applied-to-Get-Close-to-You — who thought escrow was a skincare line and had a résumé written in glitter ink.
Lil Miss- Fine-Ass-Real-Estate —who damn near licked her résumé like it had your cologne on it.
Then there was Big Ghetto Energy —who rolled in with a ‘Blessed’ neck tat, smelling like peach rings and Hennessy, and tried to flirt with me like this was speed dating and not a damn interview.
Moving along, yo’ boy Terrence, aka Reverend Rainbow —looked like he moonlights as a fake pastor and tried to flirt his way into a paycheck.
Oh—and we can’t forget Mr. Corporate Privilege , the slick white muthafucka who strolled in like he was about to deliver a major industry speech on how to rebrand a nigga from the trenches. ”
Chi shrugged dramatically.
“So yeah… either you choose this last one or we gon’ have to pull names out of a hat, spin a bottle, and pray for HR protection.”
I stared at him. “I swear I hate yo’ ass at times.”
Chi grinned. “And yet, I stay invited, nigga.”
The final candidate for the day entered—a petite, brown-skinned woman with a sharp, graceful stride that said she knew her worth but didn’t need to announce it.
Her pantsuit was modest but chic, tailored perfectly to her small frame in a soft gray that gave boardroom but not boring.
She looked to be in her mid-thirties, with skin like polished caramel and a short, tapered cut that showed off high cheekbones and a slender neck.
“Good morning, Mr. Kors. Such a pleasure to meet you,” she said, voice smooth and steady as she stepped into the room with a crisp portfolio in hand.
Minimal jewelry. Natural makeup. Clear gloss. Sharp eyes. Pretty smile—but not the kind that begged for attention. Confident stance, and her tone wasn’t forced. She was professional without trying too hard. And… a wedding ring. Good. That means she came here strictly for business—hopefully.
I gave a small nod of approval.
She peered over at Chi. “And Mr. …?”
Chi quickly stood up to shake her hand with a grin. “You can just say Chaos, but yeah.”
I shot him a tight-jawed look that said chill without me having to open my mouth.
Then I turned my attention back to the candidate.
“So Mrs. Evergreen.”
“Saroya is fine.”
“Saroya… that’s different. So, Saroya, tell me a little about yourself.”
“Of course.” She folded her hands neatly in her lap. “I’ve been in the PR field for just over eight years. I started straight out of college after finishing my master’s in strategic communication from NYU. Before that, I earned my undergrad in Business Marketing from Spelman.”
I gave a slight nod—I actually respected that one.
“I started in beauty and fashion PR,” she continued.
“Then, I transitioned into crisis management, and for the past four years, I’ve focused strictly on real estate development and luxury branding.
Most of my work has involved high-profile clientele with either public image concerns or scaling visibility for new acquisitions. ”
“Damn, you’ve been busy,” Chi chimed in. “You single? I ain’t asking for myself… maybe a friend.”
He looked over at me.
I glared back. “ You wanna keep this job or play matchmaker?”
“Dang, boss , I’m just asking for research purposes! Gotta know if she’s bringing single energy or married professionalism. Besides, I ask the bold questions so you don’t have to. And job ? Nigga, I’m doing this off GP ‘cause you my boy, so I should be free to ask whatever.”
I shook my head.
Saroya chuckled and replied, “To answer your question, I am married … four years. And we have a three-year-old son who thinks he’s the CEO of our household.”
Chi smirked. “Okay. All that is cool. But have you ever been to jail?”
I whipped my head toward him. “Nigga!” slipped out before I could stop it.
He shrugged, all casual. “Hey! I gotta make sure we’re not hiring somebody who can’t survive the comments section.”