Chapter Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Eight
The red-eye flight Rashad took from LA back to Kansas City arrived Monday morning.
At first, he’d been upset with Zara for that schedule, an ungrateful attitude since the trip was her gift.
But the red-eye was nonstop and the lowest fare.
His sister figured by eleven o’clock on Sunday night, his visit was basically over anyway.
She was right, and the flight wasn’t bad at all.
Because of the full, tight schedule, however, Rashad hadn’t met with Nichole.
After getting his luggage, he took a bus to his car, texted Mr. Turner, and went directly to his office.
He liked Nichole but related better with Mr. Turner, who reminded Rashad of a grandfather.
Looked a little bit like the actor Morgan Freeman and possessed that same affable personality exhibited in many of the characters Morgan played.
From their first meeting, Mr. Turner made it clear that he believed in him.
Said he saw something in his eyes that looked like success.
Similar words used to come from Rashad’s father.
The older man had filled a space Rashad hadn’t known was empty.
He walked in to a big smile, dap, and shoulder bump as always, then took a seat.
“How’s it going, man?”
“No complaints, Mr. Turner.”
“Good. Good. How was your Thanksgiving?”
“It was good.” Rashad shared highlights from his trip LA. “Reconnected with family, friends.”
His local PO gave him a look.
Rashad grinned. “Not like that. I towed the line, Mr. Turner.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Any updates on the plans to one day open your own business? I really like what you sent so far. Ambitious, but I can see its potential success.”
“Like you, everyone likes the idea. All I need is a millionaire looking for somewhere to invest his money.”
“Don’t we all.”
“I thought a friend of mine might become an investor. He’s in real estate and has done pretty good.”
While hanging out with family, Rashad had considered what Jamilah had used, a cosigner.
He had someone in mind, just had to get up enough nerve to ask her.
If it happened and she said yes, he’d tell Mr. Turner.
Until then, he’d stay quiet. To get turned down would leave him all out of options. No need to jinx this last attempt.
“Yeah, that market is tricky right now. Bad decisions by folk who shouldn’t be in power has this country going to hell in a handbasket and no way to jump out. I assume you’ll return to Side Chic’k this week?”
“Yeah, on Friday.”
“I’m still planning on making it by there. I hear the food is good.”
“The food is exceptional.”
“Ha! That’s the spirit, son. Keep doing your best, and don’t let go of your dreams. Believe in yourself. Believe you can make it. Everything’s possible when you believe.”
Rashad left Mr. Turner’s office feeling like he’d attended a holy ghost revival.
He reached his car and immediately called Jamilah.
The text she’d sent the previous night had both surprised and aroused him.
It felt good to know he’d been on her mind.
She’d stayed on his, more than he cared to admit.
He’d think about her at the oddest times, like when driving to Long Beach, or cruising Slauson, or hanging out with family in LA.
How it would be for Jamilah to meet his sister, mama, and especially granny.
Money’s good but doesn’t bring out that kind of smile. A woman’s causing that.
Granny was right. Even though things between them had gotten shaky lately, Jamilah did make him smile.
So much so that their meeting time, seven o’clock, now seemed forever away.
It was early and he should probably go home, but since she was off on Mondays maybe they could hang out all day together.
He tapped her name on his screen and got voice mail. He ended the call and sent a text instead of leaving a message.
Back in town. Not far from you. Want to meet up?
With his plans for Jamilah to light up his life on hold, and no desire to spend the day at home alone, he called Leon, who welcomed him to stop by. He’d mentioned his plans but wanted to go into detail about the gaming room he envisioned and make Leon part of the team.
As soon as Rashad bounded up the steps, Leon stood at the door.
“Glad you hurried up, brothah,” he said, as a chill caused his teeth to rattle.
“With all that good weather in LA, I’m surprised you came back here.”
“Wasn’t easy.”
Even as he said those words, Rashad knew they weren’t true. Jamilah’s text had him so fired up he could have flown back without a plane, just on that feel-good energy.
Three hours after arriving at Leon’s house, Rashad had a hard time leaving.
An ecstatic Leon, pumped from the possibility of focusing on what he loved and getting paid for it, had peppered him nonstop with questions, comments, suggestions, and ideas.
In between, they’d played a couple games, listened to hip-hop, and eaten Blair’s delicious leftovers.
“I gotta go, man,” Rashad said, this time not only standing up but heading purposefully toward the door. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to present your plans tomorrow. Right now these plans are just that. There’s a long road between dream and reality.”
“That’s okay. I’m still going to start working on it. My ideas are already crystalizing. I need to get in that building ASAP and take a look at whatever room we’ll be using.”
“Slow your roll, QNA. And keep what we discussed between you and me.”
“Rashad, seriously, I can’t thank you enough for including me. Don’t worry. Nobody’s going to steal this genius idea.”
He took Rashad’s hand and began to pump it. If Rashad didn’t know better, he’d swear Leon got misty-eyed.
“I’ve been looking for work. It’s shit for jobs right now, man. I’ve either got too much experience, too little, or not the right kind. It was starting to get to me, I’m not going to lie. So even for this light at the end of a tunnel…man, just thank you.”
Rashad wasn’t prepared for Leon’s next move, long, gangly arms wrapped around him.
“Bro! Chill out with the emotions. I asked you to be my business partner, not my girlfriend. Damn!”
Rashad shoved the Quiet Nerd Assassin away with a smile, then held out his fist for a more manly fist, shoulder bump and slap on the back, the unspoken trifecta of gestures between men like him.
“Nah, man, seriously, I understand. Keep working on your plans. Keep believing it will happen. Everything’s possible when we believe.”
On that Thomas Turner–inspired note, Rashad practically ran to his car, actually laughing out loud.
He headed home for a shower, maybe a quick nap.
There was no proof he’d pull off having his own place, but he believed it could happen.
He tried to remember the last time he’d felt this pumped, this motivated, this full of possibility.
He couldn’t think of one.
He’d checked his phone a couple times. Jamilah hadn’t called or texted back. It was almost three o’clock. Before leaving Leon’s driveway, he tried again. Still no answer.
It was unusual to not be able to reach her. Had she changed her mind about the plans for tonight? He sent a text.
Hey boss lady, you okay? Want to talk about tonight real quick. Am I cooking? Going out? Hit me back.
He’d almost made it home when his phone rang.
Finally.
“I was about to send law enforcement out to look for you,” Rashad joked. “You know it would have to be a serious situation, because I don’t rock with them like that.”
Silence. And something else…a sniffle? No.
“I was joking, Boss Lady.” He looked at the phone. Still connected. “Jamilah. What’s wrong?”
“Dinner’s canceled.”
“What? I didn’t hear you.”
Jamilah cleared her throat. “There’s no need to come over for dinner. And don’t bother showing up for work this week either.”
WTH? A bad feeling passed over Rashad’s body like somebody had died.
“Why wouldn’t I come to work?”
“Something happened. I lost a lot of money. I’m probably gonna have to shut down.”
“Sit right there. Don’t move. I’m coming over.”