Chapter Two
Celeste was calling him again.
Jeremiah Smith II glanced at his phone and lost his train of thought as Mom popped up on his phone’s screen, accompanied by a photo of him and his family taken on his eighth birthday.
They were at Disney World and he and Celeste were sitting side by side.
Jeremiah wore Mickey Mouse ears and Celeste donned Wayfarer sunglasses as they cheesed for the camera.
Off to the side, his younger sister, Amara, was a moving blur, mid-run.
Seconds before the photo was taken, she’d dropped her ice cream cone on the ground and was more concerned about replacing it than taking a picture.
His older brother, Percy, stood partially out of frame to the left of Celeste, the bottom half of his face obscured by the large water bottle he held to his mouth.
His grandfather, whom they’d all called Pop, stood behind Jeremiah, resting his hands atop Jeremiah’s shoulders.
He wore aviator-style sunglasses and his bald head glistened in the sun.
His wide smile was filled with love and pride.
Their Grandma Minnie was absent from the photo.
She’d passed away a few months prior. Celeste had planned the trip as a celebration for Jeremiah’s birthday, but it had also been an effort to bring some joy back to their family.
Particularly to Pop, who’d taken Grandma Minnie’s death the hardest. In the first few weeks after she’d passed, Jeremiah often caught Pop staring off into space with a vacant look in his eyes.
That trip to Disney had reinvigorated Pop.
He’d laughed his booming laugh, rode every ride, and walked with Amara perched on his shoulders, even when he grew tired.
He’d resumed his role as their larger-than-life hero.
Jeremiah inhaled deeply and rode out the sharp, familiar sting that he felt in his chest whenever he thought about his grandfather and how much he missed him. It had been two years since Pop’s death, and it still hadn’t gotten much easier.
He was trying his best to live up to the memory of the man he was named after. He was afraid that he was failing miserably.
His phone finally stopped vibrating.
“Sorry, Mom,” Jeremiah mumbled to himself. “Can’t talk right now.”
He had a pretty good idea about why his mom was calling and what she wanted to discuss.
It would probably lead back to the stupid lie he’d told in May—a lie he’d instantly regretted, even though it had let him off the hook.
If he answered her call now and the conversation went in the direction that he was assuming it would go, he’d be forced to either confront his lie or continue it. And he wanted to do neither.
Stupid lie aside, he really didn’t have time to talk right now. For real. He didn’t. He’d call her back later. After his meeting. Or maybe tomorrow…
He definitely was not purposely avoiding his own mother.
He returned his attention to his reflection in his full-length mirror.
His charcoal gray blazer and white button-up, just picked up from the dry cleaner that morning, were crisp and wrinkle-free.
His fade was fresh. He flashed a smile and winked, trying to conjure up some good luck and charm.
Today’s pitch meeting would go well. He’d speak that shit into existence.
He clasped his hands together in front of him and pretended that he was speaking to Shop Mart’s corporate team.
“At Good Boy, our biggest priority is keeping consumers and their dogs happy,” Jeremiah said.
“We started our company in the online space by providing the best plush toys on the market, and now we’re seeking to expand into more big-box stores because we want as many dogs as possible to experience our durable top-of-the-line products.
Like our upcoming fall line, featuring a pumpkin toy, which comes with a little pocket for treats, and… and…”
Jeremiah dropped his hands at his sides as he trailed off. Ah, fuck. What else were they debuting this fall?
Aaron, Good Boy’s founder and Jeremiah’s old college floor mate, who was also from New Jersey, was one of the hardest-working people Jeremiah knew.
He’d started Good Boy only a year after they’d graduated from NYU, making the dog toys himself and selling them on Etsy.
Jeremiah admired Aaron’s vision and drive, but during the year and a half that he’d spent with Good Boy, Jeremiah had learned that Aaron could also be incredibly indecisive.
He did a quick scroll through his email and searched for the message Aaron had sent him at two a.m. last night.
Subject: Fall toys FINAL
Pumpkin toy and acorn toy for Fall. We’re scrapping the turkey toy!
“Pumpkin and acorn toy,” Jeremiah finished for his imaginary audience. “We’d love the opportunity to partner with you and provide our products to your loyal customers.”
He smiled, hoping that it would dazzle the Shop Mart team right out of their chairs.
While Jeremiah loved dogs, he wasn’t a dog owner.
He didn’t trust himself enough to be responsible for another being.
His mom and sister also had severe dog allergies, which meant they’d been a cat household growing up.
His mom’s hairless sphynx cat Caesar was nineteen years old and hated everyone but Celeste.
Despite Jeremiah’s near lifelong desire to win Caesar’s affections, if he even so much as looked in Caesar’s direction, the cat hissed.
He also liked to pee on people’s shoes to mark his territory.
Jeremiah didn’t mention Caesar during his Good Boy pitch meetings.
In an hour, he’d drive into New York City to meet with the Shop Mart team at their Midtown headquarters. Aaron was the brains behind Good Boy, but Jeremiah was the charmer, the smooth talker. He was good at landing the pitch.
Years ago, Aaron had received a grant from the Smith Foundation, a nonprofit started by Jeremiah’s grandfather, which provided grants to Black entrepreneurs and business owners in New Jersey.
The grant had helped get Good Boy off the ground, and through the foundation, Aaron was introduced to some investors.
Then a year and a half ago, Jeremiah had run into Aaron at a networking event, where Aaron shared that he wanted to branch out of the online retail space into physical stores and he was looking to expand his team.
As Jeremiah had listened to Aaron struggle to pitch his own company, he realized that while Aaron had a good thing on his hands, he was shy, and he needed help spreading Good Boy to the masses.
Luckily for Aaron, he’d run into Jeremiah at the right time.
He’d recently left his marketing role at his family’s company, Smith’s Sweets.
It was a role that had been handed to him right after graduation, one where he hadn’t applied himself enough, especially not in comparison to his siblings.
Jeremiah had wanted a fresh start and an opportunity to do something meaningful with his life without fearing how he measured up to Percy.
He’d pitched himself to Aaron on the spot, offering to help get Good Boy’s name out there.
In college, Jeremiah hadn’t had the reputation of a hard worker, but he’d been popular and knew how to talk to people.
That was most likely why Aaron had agreed to bring him on.
Since Jeremiah joined the team, in a short year and a half, Good Boy toys were now sold in select big-box stores, and the team was moving into the tech space.
They were in the early process of developing an app that would work similar to Airbnb, where people could find temporary overnight housing for their pets.
Each stay would come equipped with a Good Boy toy.
The app had been Jeremiah’s idea. Initially, Aaron had brushed it off as a waste of time and resources.
Then he attended a young-entrepreneur conference and offhandedly mentioned the app idea to some tech friends based in Silicon Valley, who deemed the app a brilliant idea.
Suddenly Aaron rushed to make the app a reality.
Jeremiah tried not to take offense that his opinion alone hadn’t been good enough.
Aaron, as well as the rest of their small team, had already moved their operations to Silicon Valley earlier in the year. Jeremiah would make the cross-country move the first weekend of September once his lease was up. He’d already found an apartment in the same building as a few of his coworkers.
He was trying his best to view his impending move as an extension of his grand plan to carve out his own path and not like he was running away.
His phone vibrated again. Mom. He froze as if Celeste could see him screening her call. The vibrating ceased, and Jeremiah released a sigh of relief.
Then his phone buzzed with a text from Amara.
Dearest brother, please call Mom back. Every time you don’t answer, she calls me to say that you didn’t answer. How long must this go on, sir??
Sorry, sorry, he responded. Calling her back now.
But he didn’t call back like he said he would.
He grabbed his phone and made his way to the kitchen.
He lived on the top floor of a brownstone on an idyllic, tree-lined street in downtown Jersey City.
He’d left New York City proper soon after he’d quit his job at Smith’s Sweets.
There had been too many distractions in the city, i.e.
, the people he used to hang around. He’d thought that moving out of the city would help, and it had, coupled with a decent amount of willpower to leave his old lifestyle behind and his decision to take up running again.