Chapter 3
THREE
KENEDI
As I sat on the couch watching Baddie’s while my parents were away on their annual cruise, I felt hopeless.
I thought when I initially lost everything that I had hit rock bottom, but now that I was truly at rock bottom, I knew that wasn’t the truth.
I’d exhausted every avenue I knew how to, and I was still unable to find a job.
From being willing to take a pay cut to moving across the country, there was nothing else that I could do or offer to get someone to hire me.
I believed it was time for me to accept that working in PR would probably never happen again in this lifetime.
That was a hard pill for me to swallow, but it was my truth, and I had to accept the consequences of my actions.
Maybe one day the world would forget seeing me at my lowest, but with the way that things were going, I wasn’t going to hold my breath waiting for that day to come.
The media might’ve moved on, but those in my career field hadn’t, and maybe they never would.
Now, it was time for me to think about what was next for me.
If I wasn’t going to be working in PR, I had to think about how else I could use my skills to start over.
I had to dream a new dream whether I wanted to or not, and tomorrow, that was exactly what I was going to do.
I was going to see what other fields I could transfer my skills to, update my resume, and start applying.
I was down, but I wasn’t going to stay down.
The knocking on the door made me jump up, sending the cover and popcorn I was eating flying to the floor.
It was a little after ten at night, and since I hadn’t ordered anything on DoorDash, there was no reason for anybody to be knocking at my parents’ door.
Not knowing what to do, I grabbed my phone and FaceTimed Zaveah.
“Hello?” She answered groggily as her face came into the screen.
“Bitch! There’s somebody knocking at my door.”
“Okay, did you see who it is?”
“No! Why the fuck would someone be knocking at my door this late at night?”
“The hell if I know, it ain’t me. Go see who it is, but don’t open the door. As a matter of fact, grab that bat your dad keeps by the steps before you go over there,” she said, now sitting up in the bed.
“Alright,” I said, grabbing the bat and walking over to the door.
“Who is it?” I asked, placing the phone on the table my parents kept at the door as I held the bat in both hands.
“Sincere Hill.”
“Who? I don’t know anybody by that name. I think you got the wrong house.”
“You would think that since you came up to my office showing your ass that you would know who I am. Now, if you want to talk about a job, open the door. If not, I can take my ass home.”
“Bitch, you better open up!” I heard Zaveah yell. I prayed he didn’t hear her.
“Are you alone?” I asked.
I was all for hearing about a job, but I wasn’t about to open the door for a strange man that I didn’t know. He could be here to kill or rape me for all that I knew.
“Yeah, I am. I know you’re looking through the peephole and can see me. Now, you've got about five seconds before I leave. One, two, three,” he started counting as I yanked the door open.
“No, don’t leave,” I said to his back since he’d already started to walk down the stairs.
Turning around, he smirked and came back up the steps.
I wasn’t sure if he was waiting for me to invite him in or what because he just stood there at the door staring at me.
After realizing that was exactly what he was waiting for, I motioned for him to come in and led the way to the living room.
I was embarrassed by all the popcorn all over the place, and I was sure he thought I was a slob.
But hell, it was his fault. I was sure that he had my number, so he should’ve called first instead of popping up on my parents’ doorstep in the middle of the night.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” He asked, taking a seat in my father’s chair.
“Um, no. Why do you ask that?”
Looking me up and down, he lightly chuckled and replied, “Because it looks like I caught you at a bad time.”
It was then that I realized I still had my bonnet, face mask, and raggedy PJs on.
I was sure I looked like every bit of what I’d been going through, and it wasn’t a good look at all.
I was praying that whatever job he’d come all this way to offer me wasn’t based on how I looked at the moment, because if it was, I was sure the job would leave out of here right along with him.
“Um, no, this isn’t a bad time. I just wasn’t expecting company right now. But what can I do for you, Mr. Hill? You said something about a job,” I said, snatching my bonnet off and trying my best to fix my hair while I took a seat across from him.
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about you since the day you barged into my office. Not too many people are crazy enough to do something like that, but after doing some research into you, I learned that it wasn’t beneath you.”
As we stared at each other, I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say.
There was no way that any response that I would be able to come up with would make sense, so I chose to be quiet and let him finish what he had to say.
I knew for a fact that he didn’t come here to let me down again, so I was waiting for him to get to the point.
I was doing my best not to get my hopes too high as I awaited the words I was praying he would say to me.
“However, unlike other people, they might only see you as the crazy black girl who crashed out behind her superstar boyfriend,” he said, but I cut him off before he could continue.
“Fiancé. He was my fiancé, not my boyfriend,” I said, hoping that made things seem a little better.
He wasn’t just some boyfriend I was wasting time with. He was someone I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with, and he played in my face as though I was nothing to him. So in my opinion, my reaction was warranted and valid. I just wished that it hadn't of happened for the entire world to see.
“My bad, fiancé. But anyway, they see you as crazy, and maybe I’m crazy too, but I’m choosing to see you as passionate.
As someone who might be able to channel that crazy into more productive tasks and go just as hard for my company and my artists.
Now, I know you’re used to working with clients in the sports industry, but after reviewing your resume and credentials, I have no doubts that you’ll be able to adapt and work in the music industry. ”
“Yes, I can definitely do that.”
“Good. So, here’s what I’m proposing. A six-month trial.
I need to make sure you can handle the heat, and your crashout days are behind you.
During these six months, you’ll work directly under me as not only our acting PR manager but also my personal assistant.
I need you always close to me for me to ensure you’ve truly changed. ”
As I sat there thinking about his proposal, I wasn’t sure about it.
I needed the job, but something about being his personal assistant didn’t sit right with me.
It wasn’t that it was beneath me, or anything like that.
But more so, it was him. Could I be around this man every day for the next six months and not want to kill him?
The way he carried himself from the two times we’d interacted with each other let me know he was an asshole, and I didn’t want to prove him right and spazz out on his ass, too.
“Now, we can sit here playing this back-and-forth game as though you have better options to choose from. If you want to work in this field again, this is your last shot. Now, if you want to apply at Walmart or some shit, then by all means, go ahead and do that, ma.”
“What happens after the six-month trial when I prove to you that I can do this?”
Smirking, he replied, “Then, your life will completely change. If you can prove to me in six months that you’re built for this shit, then I’ll make you the head of our PR department, triple what you were making at your previous job, and give you a benefits package that will make your ex see you never needed that nigga or his money. So, what’s it going to be?”
“And what if I fail?” I asked, not sure why, but I needed to know. Did I get another chance at a different job, or did I just go right back to being unemployed?
“You won’t.”
Something about the way that he said it made me believe him.
As much as I knew I could do whatever the job entailed, it felt good knowing that he had faith in me, too.
That made me want to ensure that I didn’t let him down.
I wanted to make him proud and show him that taking a chance on me when everyone else wouldn’t wasn’t a mistake.
“What are the hours and pay for the six months?”
“I thought you’d work for free?” He asked, laughing, before pulling out a piece of paper and holding it up for me.
“That’s just for six months?”
“Yep, plus perks. You’ll be spending a lot of time with me, so you won’t have to pay for anything when you’re with me.”
“Okay, what about the hours?”
“There aren’t set hours. You’re where I am at all times when we’re working. I’m usually at the office by eight, and I expect you to beat me there every morning. We do sometimes take the weekends off. But you may be required to come in or work with me from home. Is that going to be a problem?”
“No, it won’t be a problem. So, when do I start working for you?”
“You start tomorrow morning. Now, before I hand you this contract, you get to ask me three questions. No more and no less. So, think about what you want to know and ask,” he said, leaning back in the chair.