18. Juliet #2
We argued that nepotism can strengthen trust, loyalty, and organizational stability because employers often have greater confidence in the abilities and character of people they already know through family relationships.
We discussed family-owned businesses, succession planning, and how generational mentorship often creates stronger leadership pipelines.
The audience was engaged. Heads nodded, notes were taken, and a few students even looked annoyed that our argument was making sense.
Then Psalm clicked to a slide I had never seen before.
My eyes narrowed.
What the hell?
“Additionally,” he began, “if it wasn't for nepotism, some women wouldn't hold the positions they have today.”
The audience shifted.
And so did I.
“Psalm, you playing right now?” I questioned, making sure the annoyance in both my voice and my hands came through loud and clear.
“No. Why would I be playing?”
I jerked my head, folded my arms, and stared at him over the rims of his glasses.
He had exactly three seconds to clear this shit up before I went off.
“What?” he asked. “Some women have benefited from nepotism.”
Oh shit.
Not only was he loud and wrong, but he had the nerve to double down.
Go time.
“You mean because men were so sexist they refused to hire them otherwise?” I challenged. “Or better yet, so intimidated that the moment a qualified woman steps onto the scene, everything starts flowing the way it should?”
A few people clapped.
Psalm raised an eyebrow, giving me that challenge-accepted look he'd perfected.
“The river doesn't always flow calmly,” he countered. “A lot of times it leaves behind wreckage.”
The men in the audience roared as if he'd just delivered the greatest point in debate history.
“Okay, and?” I shot back. “Y'all act like disruption is a bad thing. Sometimes things need to be shaken up.”
“All I'm saying is women have had doors opened for them because of nepotism.”
“The doors should've never been closed in the first place,” I fired back.
“Especially when the man holding the key probably got into the position because of a woman.
Y'all stay succeeding off women emotionally, professionally, and domestically, then want extra credit for doing shit you're supposed to be doing anyway.”
The audience exploded again.
Professor Hamburger damn near launched himself out of his seat.
“That is still nepotism, Lucky,” Psalm said, pointing at me. “And I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it.”
“No,” I corrected. “That's a discriminatory system being forced to correct itself.”
Back and forth we went, completely forgetting this was a class assignment and that we were technically supposed to be on the same team.
By this point, the audience wasn't watching a presentation anymore.
They were watching us.
Finally, Psalm crossed his arms.
“So what are you saying, Juliet? Speaking as someone who's in a position to be a nepo baby herself.”
“Ooooooh,” the crowd groaned collectively.
I smiled.
Mic drop time.
“When you classified gender, you changed the conversation and turned this into a completely different debate,” I said. “If we're discussing nepotism as a whole, then keep it as a whole.”
The theater quieted.
Even Psalm stopped talking.
“Because let's be clear. Women are more than capable of earning positions based on merit alone. Most would've held those positions anyway if they weren't too busy carrying households, raising families, managing everyone's emotional labor, and helping build the very foundations men stand on.”
The audience got louder.
People started nodding.
Some even stood.
“So if we're being honest, behind a lot of successful men is a woman who saw value in him before anybody else did, invested in him, believed in him, and delivered success right to his front door.”
The room fell silent.
For one brief moment, all I could hear was my own breathing and feel Psalm staring at me.
Then the theater erupted.
People jumped to their feet.
Students shouted.
Professors clapped.
Somebody whistled.
Professor Hamburger started hopping up and down like he'd just won the lottery.
“Bravo!”
“A-plus!”
“THAT'S HOW YOU DEBATE!”
Psalm looked at me.
I looked at him.
Despite being completely blindsided by that ridiculous slide, despite being annoyed enough to avoid him for the rest of the day, a smile still tried to creep onto my face.
We bowed together.
He accepted the applause.
I accepted the victory.
And remained absolutely pissed.
Three days until the spring semester officially ended, all my grades were posted, securing that 3.93 GPA, and somehow I had managed to go an entire week without speaking to Psalm.
I was still annoyed over that fiasco Hamburger called a stellar performance.
How could he ambush me like that and say something so stomach-turning? Did he really see a woman's accomplishments as the result of generational favor?
As much as I wanted to answer his calls, respond to his texts, or acknowledge the noticeable way Echo kept randomly asking how he was doing, I held my ground.
For the last few days, everybody had been working overtime on Psalm's behalf.
Like he promised, he came over for dinner sometime that week after speaking with Echo at the studio earlier that morning.
My father grilled him the way most fathers grill young men interested in their daughters.
My mother was delighted because she knew Mrs. Mitchel and insisted Psalm came from a good home. And Echo...
Well, Echo was Echo.
That alone made me wonder if there was anything I should know about that went down during Psalm's meeting with him.
Then again, Uncle Optimus bragged about Psalm frequently, and for Echo to casually bring him up in conversation just to temperature-check my feelings meant the man had obviously grown on him.
A little.
Maybe.
Enough not to bury him in the backyard.
I flopped into my gaming chair and stared through the sheer white tulle curtains hanging from the window overlooking the front of the house. It had become my favorite pastime these last few days.
I barely spoke to Yahya or Mega either. Both of them wanted me to cave and make up with Psalm.
Traitors.
The lights in my room flashed, someone was ringing the doorbell.
Ignoring it, I shifted in my chair. Echo was outside deciding between two motorcycles a dealership had sent over for him to test out. He could have answered the door.
Five minutes passed before the lights flashed again.
And again.
At this point, it had to be Yahya and one of her many surprise visits. Echo was probably being petty and making her ring the bell instead of letting her in.
Peering through the curtains, I expected to see him outside.
Instead, Echo was pulling away from the house on one of the new bikes.
Nice choice, Choo-Choo.
The matte hunter green paint alone was enough to make me jealous.
Sucking my teeth, I stood and headed downstairs to let my crazy but much-needed best friend inside.
My father had drilled one rule into all of us growing up: always check the security monitor before opening the door, even if you think you know who's outside.
So that's exactly what I did.
The second the camera feed appeared, my stomach dropped.
Psalm.
Standing at the front door.
Holding the largest bouquet of roses I had ever seen.
He had to have gotten them from Rue down at Rose & Rue Florals. Only she could make flowers look that luxurious.
I pressed the intercom but said nothing.
“Juliet,” his voice echoed through the speaker. “I know your selective-hearing ass sees these lights flashing, and from this poorly hidden security camera, you know it's me. Echo already told me you were inside.”
A smile appeared despite my best efforts.
“Open the door, please,” he begged.
Still pretending to be angry, I unlocked the door and pulled it open.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
Stepping aside, I physically gave him permission to enter.
The moment he crossed the threshold, he signed, “Lucky, I'm sorry.”
Then he handed me the flowers.
I snatched them, putting more dramatic flare in the situation as the front door closed hard behind us.
Still pretending.
Truthfully, him signing would make me fold like a cheap lawn chair every single time. The man was learning an entirely new language just to communicate with me, just like everyone else who loved me.
Rolling my eyes to hide my smile, I turned and headed upstairs.
Psalm followed close behind.
Once inside my room, I folded my arms and glared.
Psalm sighed.
“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, Lucky.”
I said nothing.
“I was wrong for inserting the slide without letting you know. I thought it was a last-minute improvement, but I was wrong.”
My glare softened slightly.
“Yes, sometimes nepotism gave women access to certain positions, but only because sexism would’ve denied them otherwise. Qualified women deserve those positions.”
“With equal pay?” I asked, my voice full of sass.
He rubbed the back of his head.
“Can we save that for the next debate assignment, mama?”
No longer able to hold my composure, a laugh slipped out, and the sound immediately made him smile.
“I miss you,” he signed.
My traitorous heart melted instantly.
“I miss you too,” I signed back.
That perfect smile of his grew wider, and then he signed my favorite phrase he’d learned so far, “Give me a kiss, Lucky.”
Without thinking, the flowers landed on my dresser, and the distance between us disappeared.
His kisses felt new every time, somehow becoming more passionate with each one. My body responded before my mind could catch up.
“I need you,” I whispered into his mouth.
He lifted me effortlessly, and my legs immediately wrapped around him. Carrying me toward the bed, he suddenly paused.
“Your parents? Brother?” he asked.
“All gone until much later,” I answered.
Desire lingered in my voice, escaping through every labored breath.
He attempted to lay me down on my bed, but I stopped him.
“No, take off all your clothes. I need to be against your skin.”