15 – CAMILLA
My heart pounded in my chest. I had just finished a meeting with some new sponsors who agreed to buy sponsorship ads for the magazine. They were going to be lucrative sponsorships too, and I was thankful for that.
I had shared the news with my team, and I couldn’t wait to share it with Jabari. He was leaving and heading out of state for a couple of days on a business trip. I was going to miss him desperately, and I wanted to share my news in person before he left.
He knew that I wanted to expand my business, and he had been very encouraging about me doing so. He had not only given me ideas, but he had also connected me with some people who were interested in doing sponsorships and interviews.
They weren’t at the level of the game that Jabari was, but they were on a higher tier than the individuals I had previously worked with.
That was enough to get me to the next level of the game if I played my cards right.
I wanted to share that with him, as well as give him a proper thank you for the introductions.
As much as I wanted to interview him for the magazine, my mind was changing about that. I really cared about him, and I wanted to protect his privacy and image. If interviewing him because Mike Sullivan said that I should would cause damage to our relationship, then I didn’t want to do that.
I also knew that if he found out the only reason that I dated him in the first place was to get an interview with him, he would cut me out of his life. It wasn’t easy for Jabari to trust people, and I wasn’t sure why. I only knew that he had a bad relationship with his father.
I exited the elevator only to see that Frankie wasn’t outside at her desk. A quick peek showed that she wasn’t in her office either. When I checked my watch, I saw that it was a little after one, and she may have been away for lunch.
Voices came from Jabari’s office, and although I didn’t want to interrupt a meeting, I did want him to know that I was waiting for him.
When I heard their voices rise, it stopped me from knocking on the door.
I was used to hearing his loud, thunderous voice when he gave orders over the phone, but someone had the boldness to argue back with him.
I couldn’t imagine who it would be or why they didn’t value their lives more than that.
I was torn between knocking on the door and bringing attention to the fact that they were too loud or just standing by listening quietly to find out what the chaos was about. I chose the latter although I knew it was wrong.
My heartbeat thundered in my chest, and it no longer had to do with the good news that I wanted to share with him.
Their voices were growing louder, and I heard the man call him “Son.” I was confused, and the gut instinct that had given me excellent stories in the past told me to be still and wait.
As much as I felt wrong about listening, there was nothing else that I could do.
Who was calling him “Son?” It had to be his father.
He was demanding that Jabari give him money for some debt he had. I heard Jabari tell him that he was paying his bills, and he wasn’t giving him anything more.
I hated to hear him and his father arguing the way that they were. My sister and I didn’t get along too well with our parents, but we didn’t argue with them, and we definitely didn’t hate them. Yet, they both sounded like they harbored hatred or bitterness against each other.
After a while, their voices quieted down, but they piped up again as they drew closer to the door.
The closer they drew to the door, I knew that my time was limited.
They would eventually see me standing out here, and Jabari would know that I had eavesdropped.
I didn’t know what he would think, and I didn’t want him to feel bad about it.
I rushed across the hall to an empty conference room, and I held my phone to my ear just in case someone peeped in. At least, I could pretend I was taking a phone call when in fact, I was dialing my own number and listening to my voicemail.
My chest tightened when I heard the door open.
Jabari’s voice was tightly controlled, but there was anger resounding with every word.
“Pops, you need to leave, and don’t ever fucking threaten me again.”
“Why, Jamal? You gon’ kill me too, just like you did Malik?” his father asked.
“Malik is dead, and so is Jamal. Get the fuck over it.”
My heart slammed against my chest. Jabari killed someone?
No way! Who the hell were Malik and Jamal?
And how do you tell someone to just get over someone being dead?
I needed to know more, and the only way that I would learn more was to speak with that man.
There was no way that Jabari would tell me the truth; he wouldn’t tell me anything.
After Jabari slammed his office door closed, I moved closer to the conference room door.
I peered out and didn’t see anyone except for the man who was stepping onto the elevator. I rushed behind him, but the doors closed before I could enter them. The decision to wear my sneakers today was the best one I had made all day long.
I raced to the stairwell and took them two at a time. I knew that I wouldn’t beat him to the lobby, but I prayed that I wouldn’t be too far behind him.
I was slightly out of breath when I entered the lobby, but not too much. My daily workout routine came in handy, and I was thankful that it did. I searched the elevator lobby, and I didn’t see anyone who looked like the man I spotted.
I hadn’t seen his face, but I did see his body, what he was wearing, and his long dreads. I rushed out to the street and looked left and right to see if I could spot anyone. After several seconds, when I was ready to give up hope, I spotted him.
He stood under the awning of another building, lighting a cigarette.
Once he was finished, he strolled down the street.
He glanced back once, as though he were expecting someone.
I rushed in his direction and easily made out his features; they were so much like Jabari’s.
He was just an older, more roughened version of the man I was falling for.
“Hey! Hey!” I called after him as he mixed in with the crowd.
It was late afternoon, and people were walking up and down the sidewalk and going in and out of buildings. Students were walking between classes from one Georgia State University building to another.
He didn’t seem to hear me, so I called again as I ran after him. He stopped and turned around just before I reached him.
“Hey, are you Jabari’s father?” I asked.
He sniffed and assessed me with a wary gaze. When his eyes wandered back up to mine, he chuckled mockingly. “Jabari. Yeah, I forgot that’s what he’s calling himself these days.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“His mama and me named him Jamal. I don’t know where he gets that Jabari shit from. That ain’t his birth name. He changed it.”
Well, that answered the question of who Jamal was, but it opened so many other questions. Why did he say Jamal was dead? Why did he change his name? And who was Malik?
“Why would he do that?”
As openly as the man assessed me and every inch of my body, I did the same thing with him.
He wasn’t as tall as Jabari, but he was close.
I surmised that he was about three inches shorter than Jabari’s six-five.
They shared the same rich, deep coffee shade of skin and the same distrusting almond-shaped, hooded, chocolate eyes.
Their lip shape was the same, but where Jabari’s full, heart-shaped lips looked sexy, soft, and kissable, his father’s were chapped and pink from too much alcohol.
“You look right smart. Why do most folks do stuff like that? Tryna hide something.” He tapped his temple. “You gotta think, pretty lady.”
“What would he have to hide?”
The man smirked and asked, “Who are you?”
“Just someone who cares.” That part wasn’t a lie. The motive that had me chasing him down in the street to get those elusive answers wasn’t the same motive that had me linking up with Jabari in the first place.
He sized me up again, but this time not in a sexual way as before. “You want the truth? You want his story?”
“His story?” I shuffled sideways as someone stepped out of the shop that we were standing in front of.
“Yeah. You think I don’t recognize you? You’re the owner of that black CEO magazine. What’s it called?” He snapped his fingers and looked up to the sky, trying to recall the name of my magazine.
“ColorMe CEO,” I answered.
“Yeah. How much are you willing to pay me for my story?”
This man was irritating me, and I wasn’t sure why I thought it would be this easy. After all, I’d just heard him hitting his son up for some major bucks.
“We don’t buy stories.”
He shrugged and turned his lips down. “Then you don’t get a story.” He turned and walked away from me.
I stood in front of the shop weighing my options: I could walk back to the office and demand that Jabari tell me everything, or I could give him what he was asking for. There was just one problem with that: I wasn’t sure how much he was willing to settle for.
As much as I hated to do it, I was desperate for the truth. Who was the man I was falling in love with? The revelation that I was falling in love with him hit me deep in my core. I’d known that I was falling for him, but I thought it was more of an intense like and care than love.
Knowing that Jabari was dealing with what he had to deal with from this man, and that he’d had to change certain things about himself to escape his past made me want to love him and protect him.
“I’ve got a hundred bucks on me now.”
“You think I’m a crackhead or something? My son would pay me a hell of a lot more to keep my mouth shut.”
“It seems like your son doesn’t care about what you do, but he’s determined he’s not paying you another dime.”
He turned and walked away again.
I ran after him and grabbed his shoulder. “I’ve got a grand and nothing more.”
He nodded and replied, “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
“Let’s go someplace where we can talk,” I suggested.
I led him back to my car so that I could drive to an ATM and then to an out-of-the-way coffee shop to talk.