Chapter Thirty-Two
Thirty-Two
Remembering how it felt when Brigit betrayed him, Rashad didn’t wait to come clean. That night, as he and Jamilah prepared for bed, he told her the whole story, about swiping right on a girl whose name he still couldn’t remember.
“I was frustrated, angry,” he finished. “Your dad’s words still in my ear. Fresh out of a job. No plans to see you again. It was before we got together, Jamilah. Casual sex, nothing more.”
“Did you use a condom?”
“Of course.”
“How’d she know you worked at Side Chic’k?”
“My cards are all over this city. Word gets around.” Rashad rubbed a hand through his locs. “She’s mad because I blocked her on the app before eventually completely deleting my account. Hopefully today she got the message. I don’t want her. Period.”
There was a long pause before Jamilah answered. “I have no right to be angry about what happened that night. Emotions were charged for all of us, and we hadn’t been intimate. But I guess it’s time to have”—she made air quotes—“the conversation. To define exactly what this is.
“So…what is it?”
Rashad thought for a moment. His eyes bore into hers. “Complicated.”
An hour and some change later, they’d reached an understanding.
Because theirs was a multifaceted situation, with both personal and professional ties, they agreed to a friendship-with-monogamous-benefits label.
If either had an outside itch that needed scratching by a side chick or rooster, they’d let the other know beforehand and give them the choice to fly the romantic coop.
They would make their business partnership more official.
When Rashad spoke to Tyson about next week’s visit, he also mentioned wanting to discuss with the investors the five-thousand-dollar investment he’d made into Jamilah’s already-established venue.
A full-blown explanation had already been mapped out on why the businesses working in tandem would benefit all involved.
“Are you ready?” Jamilah asked Rashad when Thursday arrived and he prepared to drive to KC’s Country Club Plaza.
“Born that way,” Rashad replied, with more verve than he felt. “You heading to Side Chic’k to start preparations?”
“With a stop at the Young Family Farm on Wayne and the farmers market. I want everything to be perfect.”
Rashad leaned in, squeezed Jamilah’s booty. “I’d say you’ve got that covered.”
She tucked down the collar of the casual black linen button-down that Rashad paired with his signature black jeans. His locs were freshly twisted, his face clean-shaven but for a small goatee.
“You look amazing.”
“Wish me luck.”
Jamilah offered Rashad a sweet kiss on the cheek. “Give ’em hell, baby. You got this.”
Rashad bumped Kendrick all the way to the meeting. By the time he arrived, he was cool, calm, and collected. Life had prepared him for this moment. He believed it would happen. He deserved it all. And at the end of the day, everything would be all right.
He reached the lobby, checked the signage, then headed down the hall to the designated meeting location. He tapped on the door, then opened it. His eyes landed on Tyson, who stood immediately and offered a welcoming smile.
“There’s the man!” he said, coming forward to offer a soul brother’s handshake. “Good to see you again, Ra God—my bad, Rashad.”
“Likewise, Tyson. Good to be here.”
“Let me introduce you around the table. This is my real estate partner, Jimmy. Our accountant, Steve. And our Asian brothers here to make unique yet sound investments and big money, Yuchen and Bo.”
Rashad rounded the table shaking hands, looking each man in the eye.
“It’s a pleasure, gentlemen,” he said, after taking the seat Tyson offered. “I look forward to creating a lot of currency with you brothahs. Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedules to meet with me.”
“It is our pleasure,” Yuchen replied. “We like your idea. Hip-hop, gaming, and food. Good combination.”
Rashad nodded at a slender young man with expressive eyes who looked nineteen but who Tyson had told him was actually thirty-four. Bo, the shorter, rounder, more serious looking of the two was twenty-six but looked older than Yuchen.
“Tell us more about what was in your proposal,” Bo said.
Rashad was meticulous as he laid it all out.
First, he touted the unique concept of Side Chic’k, and how his corner connected business would help boost the whole block.
After sharing a bit of Eighteenth and Vine’s rich history, he presented the plans for his baby.
He excitedly shared how hip-hop, gaming, and food could intersect, how one could enhance the other, and how now was the perfect time to strike with a concept that no one else had.
“Our generation has gotten away from social gathering,” Rashad finished. “I don’t want to separate gamers from their pleasure but give them a trendy, interactive, social environment to have a good time.”
The men were clearly interested and asked several questions.
About PR and marketing, budgets, and competition.
Profit margins and equipment. Renovations and time frames.
Tyson’s partner Jimmy, who’d flown in with Tyson to scout commercial properties to flip, chimed in as well.
For the next few hours, the men strategized and organized and finally came up with a plan that was both workable and agreeable to all involved.
“Starting slow and then ramping up makes sense. Conservative budget. Minimum reno. Heavy concentration on targeted marketing. And brothah,” Tyson finished, “I love the whole community involvement and rehabilitation idea about employing felons and others who find it hard to get a job.”
“That’s my favorite part, too,” Steve admitted, a fact that might have surprised those who judged by appearance. “And honestly, that’s the part of your story that brought me on board.”
Steve could have been stamped Made in the USA, just like baseball, hot dogs, apple pie, and beer.
He wore a CPA’s uniform: plaid button-down shirt, khaki pants, and sports jacket.
Reddish-brown hair, sparkling green eyes, skin bronzed from an afternoon with eighteen holes.
House in the suburbs. White picket fence.
Two kids and a dog. The American dream. But his life hadn’t always looked like that.
His dad had been a heroin addict. Overdosed when Steve was a teen.
Mother made ends meet as a dancer on the Strip.
Steve had pulled himself out of the gutter with willpower and grit.
Used a knack for numbers and near photographic memory to become top-tier in his field.
Instead of forgetting where he came from, he remembered to reach back with a hand to help other souls climb out of hell’s grip.
“Is your PO still offering assistance?” Tyson asked.
Bo interrupted. “What’s a PO?”
“Parole officer,” Rashad said. “A person one reports to after being given an early release from prison.
“Mr. Turner is very enthusiastic about these plans,” he continued, answering Tyson’s question. “He’s already speaking with members of the judicial system and city hall on ways I might be able to partner with some of their programs.”
Steve leaned forward. “That’s fantastic. And economical. We can structure a part of your business as a nonprofit arm, to be eligible for grants and other governmental assistance.”
Tyson looked at his watch. “If there are no more questions, I say we wrap up here and head over to the building, find out if there’s any way we can contact the owner, and get access inside.”
“I have a question,” Bo asked, with a sheepish expression. “You from LA, right? Do you know Kendrick Lamar?”
“They not like us!” Yuchen surprised Rashad by chanting, the first time Mr. Super Rich acted his age.
“No, I don’t know him,” Rashad answered, good-naturedly. “But I have friends who do.”
“I hear you have good barbecue,” Bo said, as the men gathered belongings and headed toward the lobby.
“The best,” Rashad glibly replied. “But today, you’ll be dining at Side Chic’k. We’re opening up just for you.”
As soon as he was out of earshot, Rashad called Jamilah. “We did it, baby! Everything’s a go!”
“Oh my gosh, Rashad. That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m proud of us, Boss Lady, and on my way over. The guys will meet us in an hour.”
“I can’t wait until my dad sees what we’re doing together. Prove to him there’s real skill, intelligence, and value in some of the men behind bars.”
Rashad narrowly missed being rear-ended. He almost slammed on the brakes midblock. “Wait, what did you say?”
“I know, it took me a minute to come around. But I finally see everything you tried to show me. That so many men like you have so much to offer.”
“No, the last part. Where they’re doing their time.”
“Behind bars?”
“Baby, you’re a genius. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself. Ooh, I’m going to make you come so hard tonight.”
“What are you talking about?” she replied laughing, and Rashad pictured her body’s reaction.
“Boss Lady, you have just captured the essence of my venue with words that convey what I write, the music I want to highlight, and the people I want to help and inspire. You’ve just named my establishment—Behind Bars.”