Chapter 2 #2
Another yawn comes tinnily through his earbuds. Jordan’s eyes fall to Denz. He should tell him. No one else in their family knows about Jordan, except for Denz. Well, his cousin knows that Jordan’s not the Carter everyone assumes he is.
But then the topic of Jamie might come up and …
Jordan’s not up for that discussion.
He doesn’t have the time either.
“Denz,” he says, panting. When did he start sweating so much? He needs a shower. “I should go.”
Denz grins. “Big day, right?”
“Big day,” Jordan says, smiling.
He ends their call. After stopping the treadmill, Jordan sprints back to his apartment.
There’s no more time to think about last night. Or stupid kisses that happened a lifetime ago.
There’s no time to think about Jamie Peters.
Jordan steps off the elevator onto the sixth floor of a gleaming building in downtown Atlanta.
24 Carter Gold welcomes him like a warm hello of popping colors and chic decorations.
It’s an open floor plan. The perfectly positioned orchid-and-gold furniture spread throughout the lobby contrasts with white concrete floors.
Sleek glass-walled offices with framed partitions run along one wall, the opposite wall filled by cubicles for the interns.
There’s an effortless flow to every destination.
Jordan’s next stop: the CEO’s office.
Not before he greets a group of interns. They all smile over their coffees. Jordan waves to Connor, another event coordinator, while placing a pale blue box with a cartoonish winged doughnut logo at the front desk.
“I hope my favorite is in there!”
Kim, one of the other coordinators, walks up. She’s at least six inches shorter than Jordan, curvy and pretty, with gold-brown skin. The round apples of her cheeks are always glowing. But Jordan’s learned not to let that smiley exterior fool him. She’ll cut anyone over her favorite morning pastry.
“I got two Butter Toffee just for you,” Jordan tells her.
She swipes up both doughnuts with a grin. “I love you.”
“Not more than you love Sublime Doughnuts.”
“Very true.”
“Great job with the Walker-Wright party over the weekend,” Jordan says, unlocking his phone. “I saw the videos on their socials. Nice brand placement.”
“All my idea!” Connor announces from across the lobby.
“All my execution,” Kim reminds him as he approaches.
Connor towers over Jordan and Kim. He’s six feet four with this whole college frat boy charm going for him. Chiseled features. Bright green eyes. Slicked and parted copper hair.
A blush stands out against his pale white skin when Kim elbows his side. He drapes an arm around her shoulders. “We make a great team.”
“Wonder Twin powers activate,” Kim says before offering him a fist bump.
Connor happily reciprocates.
After Denz left, Kim and Connor took over as social media directors. Jordan refuses to acknowledge that it takes two people to do what Denz did for the company. His cousin’s ego doesn’t need any extra boosts.
“Big day today,” Connor says.
“Is it?” Jordan reaches into the doughnut box. He procures an Orange Dream Star, the CEO’s favorite. “It’s just another Wednesday. Nothing special.”
Kim quirks an eyebrow. “So, you’re not nervous?”
Why does everyone keep asking him that?
“I don’t get nervous, sweet Kimberly,” Jordan says while grabbing a napkin. “Nerves are for the unprepared. The incapable. Amateurs.”
He spins away, walking toward the offices.
“That kind of arrogance isn’t as cute as you think it is!” Kim calls after him.
“It’s not arrogance,” Jordan rebuffs, grinning. “It’s talent.”
“That’s a funny way of saying cocky!”
“Save some doughnuts for the interns,” Jordan instructs over his shoulder.
“Good luck!” Connor yells.
Jordan’s head tips back as he laughs. He doesn’t need luck.
All he needs is his iPad—which he snatches from his office desk—and complete focus.
He’s spent weeks preparing for this meeting.
Reviewed as many of the company’s past events as he could find.
Put feelers out to the best possible vendors.
Studied what information he could gather about his clients.
There’s no way he’s going to fail.
Around the corner are private meeting spaces and a main conference room. Across from that, the CEO’s office.
Jordan strides toward the open door.
A woman exits before he can walk in.
“Oh, Jor-Bear!”
He grimaces at the childhood nickname. “Mom,” Jordan says in his least petulant voice. “Please don’t call me that at work.”
Or ever, he wants to add.
“Oh, hush,” Cheryl says. Her perfume wafts between them. Chanel’s Coco Mademoiselle. Its rose and citrusy notes transport Jordan back to being five years old again. “No one’s around to hear me.”
Despite himself, Jordan smiles.
He shares a lot of his mom’s features, from their warm brown complexions to their slightly round faces and full cherry lips. While he maintains a small, curly ’fro with a taper fade, his mom’s hair is in knotless braids for the summer.
But Cheryl doesn’t have Jordan’s long eyelashes. His high cheekbones. Sometimes, while staring in the mirror, Jordan wonders if he can find any other parts of himself that aren’t from his mom.
The ones from his bio dad.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Cheryl says. “Everyone’s asking about you.”
He glances around. “Who’s everyone?”
“The family group chat!”
Jordan has left and reentered the family group chat approximately eight times.
This year. He can name at least ten more productive things he could be doing with his life than reading through which Carter said the wrong thing in public (usually Denz) or who should take down an inappropriate social media post (surprise, surprise—Denz, again).
Reluctantly, he asks, “What’d I miss?”
Cheryl’s wicked grin makes Jordan’s forehead itch. “We just want to know how your date went last night.”
We, as in her.
Jordan’s mouth opens, then closes. He knew this was coming. Too bad he hadn’t worked out his answer yet.
His mom doesn’t give him any room to lie either. “When’s the second date? She’s the one, isn’t she?”
“Define the one.”
“I knew it!” Cheryl squeals. “My psychic—which I don’t believe in ’cause I’m a good Christian woman, in case my pastor ever asks—told me you were gonna meet your match this week. Your soulmate.”
“Uh-huh,” Jordan monotones.
“Madame Lorraine said her name would start with a J,” Cheryl continues, braids swishing as she shakes him excitedly.
“Mom,” he tries.
She ignores him. “Look at you, Jor-Bear! On your way. Finally settling down.”
Jordan wants to die.
“I need to call Alonzo, my jeweler,” Cheryl carries on. “It’s still a little early, but he books up fast. You can get Jess’s ring size later. Don’t forget to ask her favorite diamond cut.”
“I-I should go,” Jordan stammers. He carefully frees himself from her death hold. “Big meeting with the CEO. Can’t keep her waiting!”
“But—”
“We’ll catch up!”
Jordan speed-walks toward the open office door.
He leans inside, catching his breath.
24 Carter Gold’s CEO office is immaculate. The back wall is made of floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing Atlanta’s crisp blue skyline. A tall ebony bookcase holds numerous awards the company’s won over the years, along with framed photos.
Jordan smiles fondly. He remembers some of the pictures from childhood. Others are more recent with new faces he’s come to love.
In the center of the office sits a black lacquered desk. Opposite it is a lavender love seat. That single piece of furniture is famous. Iconic. It deserves its own plaque from the Atlanta Historical Society.
The lavender love seat is where EGOT Audrey Hudson sat nearly two decades ago.
It’s where she cried over her upcoming wedding for millions of viewers.
Where Uncle Kenny knelt and charmed his way into America’s hearts on Marvelous Weddings.
Where 24 Carter Gold went from locally known to something bigger.
A brand. A benchmark.
Jordan’s future.
So much has changed since then. The most obvious being who’s sitting behind the CEO desk.
Kami fits here. In the high-back chair, eyes fixed on her computer screen. In an office stuffed with memories and accomplishments. As head of the company.
She’s the perfect successor to the empire Kenneth Carter built. Hard-working, dedicated, wildly creative. Over the years she’s managed some of the best, most talked-about events Atlanta has ever seen.
It’s what won her the job after her dad retired.
As she types, Jordan thinks about the competition last year. The one that pitted Kami against Denz, her younger brother, for the CEO position. It was intense. Brutal, actually. Jordan still remembers how fractured things got between his cousins, despite how close they’d always been.
In the end, it had all worked out.
But he never wants to relive that drama again.
He raps his knuckles on the doorframe. “Knock, knock.”
Kami looks up with a frown. “Why do people do that?”
“Do what?”
“Knock on someone’s door, then say, knock, knock.”
Jordan shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s a … thing.”
“It’s silly and repetitive.”
“Good morning to you too,” he says, laughing lowly.
Kami leans back in her chair. The teal in her flare dress pops beautifully against her brown skin. Her curly hair is sleeked into a high ponytail today. She’s all business. Except for the loud yawn she lets out as Jordan flops onto the love seat.
“Another long night?” he asks.
She sighs. “Mikah’s in his Marvel phase. How many times can one seven-year-old rewatch the LEGO Marvel Avengers movie?”
“Knowing Mikah? At least a hundred.”
“I blame Braylon,” Kami says.
“And I blame Denz for getting back with him,” Jordan says.
“Oh, that was inevitable. Those two idiots were destined for each other.”
Jordan laughs.
He still has no clue why Denz and Braylon bothered with their fake dating scheme to prove Denz was serious about being the company’s next CEO. It was clear to everyone that he still loved Braylon. That they were too busy getting in each other’s way to realize they needed each other.