CHAPTER 2
Miley’s POV:
The Harlem heat hit me like a slap in the face the second I pushed through those revolving doors. It was mid-afternoon, and the sun was bouncing off the blacktop, making the air thick and wavy.
Within three minutes, a shiny silver Toyota Camry pulled up to the curb, hazard lights blinking in synchronization with the rhythm of my pounding heart.
I checked the plate, yanked the back door open, and slid into the glorious, ice-cold interior.
The blast of artificial arctic air was an immediate blessing against the sweat trying to form at the nape of my neck.
"Miley?"
The driver was a thick, beautiful older black woman with skin like rich molasses, rocking a set of perfectly laid salt-and-pepper knotless braids that went all the way down to the small of her back.
She had a pair of oversized, gold-rimmed aviators perched on her nose and a smile that immediately felt like home.
The dashboard smelled intensely of vanilla tree air fresheners and cocoa butter.
"Yes, ma'am, that's me. Good afternoon," I said, leaning back into the fabric seat, my knees still feeling a little weak from the sheer gravity of the last few hours.
She shifted the car into drive, checking her side mirror before pulling out into the chaotic flow of 125th Street traffic. She glanced at me through the rearview mirror, her eyes dropping down to the crisp cream silk blouse I was wearing, then back up to my face.
"Child, let me tell you something," she started, her voice a deep, comforting Harlem drawl that let me know she’d been on these blocks since before I was a thought.
"You came walking out of that E-Tech building looking like a whole million-dollar check.
And let me tell you, that place right there?
It is notoriously hard to get into. Like, practically impossible for regular folks. "
I let out a breathless, hyperactive laugh, my fingers gripping the strap of my tote bag. "Ma'am, you have no idea. I’m still trying to convince myself I didn't just hallucinate the whole morning."
"Oh, I believe it," she said, shaking her head as she honked aggressively at a delivery truck that was blocking the bus lane.
"My daughter tried to get an interview with their marketing department last year. Clean resume, graduated from St. John’s with honors, did everything by the book.
They didn't even give her an automated rejection email.
Just pure silence. The people inside that building are absolutely loaded, baby.
They got money that speaks three different languages.
So let me ask you... if you working in there, why you Ubering in a regular old Camry on a Monday afternoon?
You look like you should have a personal driver. "
I giggled, the hood girl inside me immediately melting away the corporate posture I’d been maintaining for the last six hours.
"Oh, no, ma'am! Don't let the silk fool you, I am definitely not in that tax bracket yet. I’m just an intern. Today was my very first day, and the CEO—Helisa Smith herself—just hired me to be her direct executive intern. I’m literally aiding her. "
The driver slammed on the brakes a little harder than necessary at a yellow light on Malcolm X Boulevard. She twisted her whole torso around in her seat, pushing her aviators down the bridge of her nose so she could look at me with raw, unfiltered disbelief.
"You mean the Helisa? As in Helisa Smith, the billionaire?" she asked, her voice jumping an octave as she navigated the busy, bustling streets of Harlem. "The one that's always on the news looking like she could buy the entire borough and not even notice the dent in her checking account?"
"Yes, ma'am, that exact same one," I revealed, the pride bubbling up so hot in my chest I thought I might actually combust. "And look...
whatever you see on the television or in magazines?
It don't do that woman a bit of justice. She is even more beautiful in person, I’ll tell you that much.
Like, it's actually ridiculous how flawless she is.
I had to remind myself to breathe when she looked at me. "
"Wow... I wish I could meet her just once in my life," the driver said, twisting back around to accelerate as the light turned green.
She shook her head, a look of pure awe on her face.
"You should count yourself lucky, girl. For real, for real. Meeting Helisa Smith in person is like meeting Beyoncé. She’s like the holy grail of Black excellence in this city. A goddess walking around Harlem."
"I’m just glad to be a part of her team," I said excitedly, my voice high and filled with that raw, uncontained energy. "I swear I can’t wait to get upstairs and tell my homegirls everything. I’m still pinching myself.
And the grind doesn't stop—I’m starting back at eight tomorrow morning.
Sharp. She told me herself that punctuality is the only currency that doesn't depreciate, so you know your girl is gonna be at that desk by 7:30. "
"Damn, I am so incredibly happy for you, baby," the driver said, her face lighting up with a genuine maternal warmth that made my spirit smile.
"It always warms my heart to see a young, beautiful black sister getting her foot in a door like that.
Especially a girl with a shape like yours—you out here representing for the real ones.
" She paused, checking her blind spot before making a smooth left turn.
"You know what? I think you and my daughter would vibe real well. Like, seriously. You’ll make the best of friends. You have an Instagram?"
"Yeah, definitely," I said, pulling my phone back out. "I’m always down for making new friends, especially if she’s out here trying to get her money right too."
"My name is Monica, by the way," she said, tossing her phone onto the passenger seat next to her. "Type your handle in right there, baby."
I snatched up her phone, my long acrylics clicking against her screen as I typed in my handle. As soon as my profile popped up, Monica reached over, hit a few buttons, and brought up her daughter’s profile.
"That's my baby girl right there," Monica said proudly, flashing the screen in my direction while keeping one hand firmly on the steering wheel.
I took the phone, squinting at the screen, and my word...
she was beautiful. The girl had skin like rich milk chocolate, soft features, and a head full of gorgeous, curly natural hair that framed her face like a halo.
But as stunning as she was, my brain immediately, involuntarily did a comparison.
She's gorgeous, I thought to myself, but she is absolutely no Helisa. That’s for damn sure.
Nobody was. Helisa Smith was in a completely different dimension of existence. She was the blueprint.
"I’ll make you two connect," Monica said, her eyes crinkling at the corners with matchmaking joy. "My daughter is a total introvert, you know? She stays in the house, works on her computer, and rarely makes new friends because she’s so quiet. But I truly believe she’ll vibe with you perfectly.
You got that big, beautiful energy that draws people in. "
"Thank you, Ms. Monica," I said, handing the phone back with a soft smile. "Like I said, I'm always down for new people in my circle. Tell her to hit my DMs whenever she’s ready."
Minutes later, the silver Camry pulled up to the curb in front of my apartment building on 135th Street. The familiar sight of the weathered stone steps and the kids playing near the fire hydrant down the block instantly brought me back down to earth, but the high was still humming in my blood.
"Here you go, baby," Monica said, unlocking the doors. "Go conquer that world. And don't let that Ice Empress intimidate you. You got the juice."
"Thank you so much, Ms. Monica! Have a blessed day!" I said, pulling my tote bag over my shoulder and stepping out into the thick afternoon heat.
I slammed the door and practically floated up the steps of my building, my heels clicking a triumphant rhythm against the stone.
***
The minute I unlocked the apartment door and stepped into the living room, the smell of seasoned chicken and garlic hit my nose.
Terra was sitting at the kitchen island, a glass of white wine in one hand and her laptop open in front of her.
She took one look at my face, saw the absolute, unadulterated madness in my eyes, and slammed her laptop shut.
"Oh, it's like that?" Terra said, sliding off her barstool before I could even drop my bag. "Miley, your face is literally glowing. Spill it. Every single drop. Do not leave out a single word."
"Girl," I gasped, kicking off my heels right by the door and letting out a long, dramatic groan of pure relief as my bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor. "First of all, let me sit down before my legs give out, because the corporate world almost took me out within the first three hours."
I collapsed onto our plush gray sofa, throwing my legs over the armrest. Terra immediately walked over, grabbed her glass of wine, and handed it to me, before turning around to pour herself another one from the kitchen counter.
She sat down at the opposite end of the couch, her eyes wide with anticipation.
"Start from the beginning," Terra commanded. "How is the building? How are the people? And most importantly... what does the billionaire look like up close?"
I took a long, luxurious sip of the wine, letting the crisp liquid settle my nerves before I started talking.
"Terra, listen to me. The building is not even real.
It looks like something out of a movie. The floors are white marble so clean you can see your own soul reflecting back at you.
Nobody speaks above a whisper. It's like a church, but for money.
I walked into the lobby and my stomach instantly turned into a knot. "