Six
SIX
Noble
T he rumble of the sanitation trucks woke me. I jumped out of bed and threw on a T-shirt and sweats to grab the empty cans from the front of my house. While I set Holland’s cans back in her yard, I thought about how refreshing it was to talk to her. I’d tried not to let her catch me checking out her smooth skin, pretty face, and perfect curves. I was a breast man, and she had more than enough to entice a brother like me.
I’d discovered that idle time was the hardest part about being unemployed. Without a specific agenda for the day, I climbed back into bed and scrolled through Instagram, swiping away the messages appearing at the top of the phone. When the messages didn’t stop, I rolled over and covered my head with the pillow. I didn’t want to talk or text. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I didn’t want my current reality. The truth was, I felt useless.
Growing up poor made me believe money could solve every issue. Now I had more money than I could spend in my lifetime, and life still wasn’t problem free.
No matter how hard my mother worked, we often came home to a dark house, scraps in the fridge, or lines on the cable box indicating that our service had been cut off. My mother would negotiate with the utility companies to get our services restored. I knew the money I made from my odd jobs after school only helped a little, but it was better than nothing.
Going to college wasn’t optional if I was ever going to make enough money to take care of my mother and myself. I fantasized about putting her in a huge house and gifting her luxury cars. She was going to do anything and everything she could to make sure I made it through college. And I vowed to do everything I could to make sure we’d never be broke again. Becoming a finance major would guarantee that.
Now I knew better. Being well-off didn’t make my relationship with my estranged father better either. It didn’t even help in the romance department. And it certainly wasn’t helping to maintain my confidence.
Tim had said this move was good for both me and the business, but the messages my self-esteem struggled with was “They don’t want you anymore” and “You’re not good enough.” I’d hadn’t battled rejection this strong since my dad walked out on us. Rejection had sucker punched the wind out of me.
The phone dinged again and again. The notifications wouldn’t stop. I rolled onto my back, sucked in a deep breath, and stared at the ceiling awhile.
“Ugh!” I sat up and grabbed the phone to see who the hell kept texting me. Tim. Ty sent a screen full of texts with links. Then my dad. There were missed calls from each of them and one from Ms. Elsie.
I opened Ty’s texts first.
Ty: Did you see this????
I clicked the link and sat straight up when the headline displayed across my screen.
Ty: And this???
Another link. Another article.
Ty: Call me…
Ty: Bruh… Call me!
Ty: Bruh! You good?
Ty: Here’s another one. Damn.
Ty: Answer your phone!
Each link led to articles about me. “Noble Washington Out as CEO of Push Beverages.” “Famed CEO Washington Gone After Shake-Up at Push Beverages.” “Push CEO Ousted!”
My stomach caved along with my confidence. I didn’t think feeling lower was possible. The articles were endless. Every newspaper, blog, and news channel had its own version of the story—each besting the other with provocative headlines, using phrases like “forced to resign” and “sudden departure.” I tossed the phone aside and lay back, listening to my heart thump wildly and feeling my pulse throb in my ears. I tried to calm my breathing. Nothing worked.
What was I supposed to do now? What company would want me to be their leader after I’d been ousted ? Was I going to have to cover my face in public like Kanye and his wife? I groaned and jammed my fists into the mattress.
I didn’t want to continue reading the articles, but I couldn’t stop myself. Endlessly scanning each text, I clicked on all the links and read all the reports. I needed to know what they were saying about me. It was torture, but I was insatiable.
The cursor blinked at the end of my name in the Google search bar. My finger hovered over the return key while I debated whether I should go further down this rabbit hole. I did it, filling my screen with pages of images, videos, and news. The weight of a brick fell into the pit of my stomach.
How many different news outlets had published an article? Where did they get their news from? Had Push released anything to the press? Someone could have prepared me for this.
I pressed my temples, trying to ease the banging in my head. I went to the company website to see if anything was posted there. Nothing.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! I jumped out of the bed. What the hell? I grabbed my phone to check the app for my security system. It took a second for the image to load. When it did, Ty’s full face was right in the camera. I touched the mic icon on the app. He was yelling right into the security camera.
“Noble! Open the door! It’s me, Ty.”
“Okay, hold on.”
In bare feet, I jogged down to the first floor and pulled the door open. Ty rushed past me and paced circles around my living room.
Hands flailing, a barrage of words tumbled out of him. “Who told the media? We didn’t approve anything for publication. Where did they get this information from?”
Ty rambled as he wore down my wood floors. I sat on the couch with my elbows parked on my knees, my head cupped in my hands. I had the same questions and wanted answers.
Finally, he stopped talking and moving. The only sound coming from him was harsh breathing, like he’d just finished a run. My eyes closed. I heard the thud of his feet as he walked toward the couch where I sat. The cushions sank when he sat near me. We wallowed in silence for the longest time.
“How are you doing?” Ty asked after a few moments had passed. Inhaling slowly, he then let the air out in a rush. “It’s not the same without you.” His voice was low. “I didn’t want this. I would never have wanted this.”
“I know.” I opened my eyes and looked at him. Ty looked worn. Like he hadn’t slept in days.
“I don’t want you to think—”
“I know, Ty,” I said, cutting him off. “You don’t owe me an explanation. There’s no better person to step in as interim CEO. You’ve been there from the beginning.”
“What if they—”
“Asked you to stay?” I finished his thought.
A beat passed before he dragged in a breath and nodded.
“Then you take the position.”
Ty opened his mouth. Held his hands in the air. Closed his mouth and let his hands fall into his lap.
“I’d rather you than someone else.”
Ty took another deep breath and asked, “How are you?”
Sitting back on the couch. I found a semblance of solace in the way the soft material felt against my back. I shook my head slowly and thought about how to answer. How was I? How I felt changed from day to day—more like, from one hour to the next.
Today was a bad day. I felt like I’d failed. I was ashamed to tell my father, but I’m sure he knew now from the number of missed calls and texts. Outside of football season, he watched three channels, all delivering news around the clock. I kept thinking about everything I could have done differently to get better results out of Push. So, how was I doing? Not well at all.
“Not good.”
“I can understand that,” Ty said. “I’m sorry it went down like this.”
“How’s the staff?” I changed the subject. I didn’t want Ty’s pity.
“Sad. Confused. Angry.”
They cared that I was gone. My fake cough forced down the lump in my throat. I already missed the camaraderie and the bad jokes Ty told around the office.
Weddings, bat mitzvahs, and BBQs had made us even closer. I had made sure we added tuition assistance for staff members trying to get through college. I was all too familiar with those struggles.
Grief had depths. This didn’t feel as dismal as when I lost my mom, but it still bore a hole in my chest that threatened to swallow me whole. I wasn’t the crying type. Instead of tears, angst rammed into my chest, cutting my breath short. I drew in a shaky breath and huffed.
Without looking at him, I sensed Ty studying me. In my peripheral I felt the intensity of his gaze, peeling back the layers of me, trying to discern how hard I was taking this. Avoiding his eyes, I let my head fall against the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling.
“How’s Tim’s plan coming along?” Ty asked, breaking through my mental pity party.
“He has a board for me to join,” I swallowed thickly. “An organization called Chosen Alliance, an agency that works with youth in foster care and adoptions. It’ll give me something to do.” Giving back to kids always made me feel good and right now, I desperately needed to feel good. “Tim says it will be a good look for me. We have other things in the works to keep my brand attractive and marketable,” I said, hoping Tim’s plan worked after all this news. “I just don’t know if these headlines will have an impact.”
“Hopefully not.”
We sat in silence.
“Tim told me I should take a vacation. Get away for a while.” I stood up, no longer able to just sit still.
“You should.”
Stuffing my hands in my sweats, I shrugged. “Maybe.” But with who? Ty had a lot on his plate as the interim CEO, and I didn’t think Tim understood how distressing this was for me. All he wanted to do was fix it with PR spins, board appointments, and making sure I looked good for the next job. I didn’t want another job. Besides, running away wasn’t going to change anything.
Ty stood, wiped his hand down his face, and walked to the window. Several moments passed with us steeped in weary silence. After a while, he asked, “Any updates on the house next door? I still can’t believe Ms. Goldie is gone.”
Mentioning the house made me think of Holland. She was gorgeous in a natural and effortless kind of way. Thoughts of her big brown eyes, full lips, and hair and skin the color of honey were a welcome distraction.
“Nah. No updates. I met her niece though.” A vision of Holland’s beautiful face flashed across my mind’s eye. I grinned at the remembrance of her curvy hips and the sweet melody of her southern lilt. There was a warmth and lightness about her, unlike many of the women I’d met in New York City. No disrespect to the women of my city—their edge was required—but something was refreshing about this woman.
“Holland. Yeah, that was her name.” I pretended to forget. I liked the way her name felt on my lips. Holland. Thinking about her eased some of the anguish from the week. “Not sure what she’s doing with the house, though. I can ask.”
Having that much temptation right next door could be distracting.
“That place is a gem. Good for rental income. I’m sure it needs a lot of work. I’d be interested in buying it if she’s selling.”
“We’re cool, but I don’t know if I want you to live that close to me,” I teased.
“Ha! We’d get into too much trouble,” Ty added and we laughed together.
“Kidding aside, I’m sure Ms. Elsie will be able to tell me what she’s planning,” I said, though I’d much rather ask Holland myself. I’d use any excuse to speak with her again. To get close. Feel the sizzle like static when her skin brushed against mine. That had never happened before.
Silence nestled its way into the conversation again.
Ty finally said. “Maybe a getaway would do you good.”
“Maybe.”
“I know this isn’t easy for you, but it can give you a chance to live a little,” Ty added.
“I have a life,” I snapped, feeling stung.
Ty twisted his lips and side-eyed me. “When’s the last time you had fun, hooked up, or went out to the Spot?” he asked, referring to one of the lounges we used to frequent.
I opened my mouth and closed it, having to think. Had it really been that long since I’d gone anywhere besides the office?
“See what I mean?” Ty said, shrugging. “There’s more to life, bro. Push was a major accomplishment. I applaud you for it all. For the life it afforded you and me.” Ty pointed between us. “But dude, look around. What else do you have?”
Ty’s words landed in my stomach like a gut punch. I sat on the couch stewing, jaw clenched and throbbing. I wanted to ask Ty who the hell was he talking to. Tell him to get out, but he was right. I could always count on him to crash my pity party with a hard dose of reality.
What else did I have? My home. Money.
No mother. A complex relationship with an occasional father. No siblings. No girlfriend, wife, or children. Besides Ty and Tim, I was alone—decidedly alone. I was asset rich, yet bankrupt.
Enamored with making poverty a distant memory, I gave Push my all, vowing to never be poor again. With every accomplishment, I told myself I was making my mother proud. What I had really done was toss all my happiness eggs in the Push basket. Now I had nothing.
“Bro!” Ty stood in front of me. I lifted my head, slowly. “Fuck those headlines. You’re Noble Washington. It’s time to have some fun.”
But did I even remember how?