Page 27 of Can't Get Enough

“None,” Nelly replies without hesitation and pulls the fan closer to her face. “Ecstatic. I can’t imagine life without that lil’ stink bomb now.”

We order our food and get down to business while we wait for it to arrive. I never would have imagined I’d be in the venture capital space, but when Nelly, my soror and mentor, approached me about getting Aspire off the ground to help Black women entrepreneurs, it was an immediate yes.

“I hope we have a superstar founder in our second round like we did in the first,” Nelly says.

“Hue has surpassed every expectation,” I agree.

The fledgling cosmetic company’s hero product is a foundation designed for women of color. Lots of companies have been doing that lately, but this product uses AI to customize the absolute perfect match for your skin. It’s been getting massive media coverage and the sales to go with it.

“I have a feeling this’ll be our first unicorn,” Nelly says with a gleam of pride in her eyes.

A unicorn investment valued at a billion dollars is indeed rare, especially in the first round for a small fund like ours.

“We really need to play it up to potential limited partners,” Kashawn says. “Speaking of, anyone new we need to be pitching? Talking to?”

Maverick Bell flashes in my mind. He expressed some interest, but who knows if he was even serious. Maybe he’d had a few drinks by then. There was a literal line of people at the bar waiting to speak to him. He probably got pitched so many times that night, he won’t even remember our conversation.

Meanwhile I have replayed the brief exchange in my head several times. Not a sexy-flirty-I-wonder-if-I’ll-take-you-home kind of thing. I felt connected to him in a way that I haven’t with anyone else, specifically around Mama’s condition. Even in the midst of wall-to-wall partygoers, with music blasting and liquor flowing freely all around, he saw me. Recognized there was a part of me completely removed from that scene and anxious about my mother.

I remain quiet and fork Paschal’s famous greens into my mouth. If I breathed a word of Maverick Bell’s interest, my partners would pounce on it and force me to follow up. I can’t call that man. First of all, he was probably talking out the side of his neck. Making conversation. But even as I think it, I know the thoughtful man who shared his experience with his grandfather isn’t that cavalier.

My second reason for not wanting to reach out…

The memory of Zere’s pain this morning clamps down on even the thought that was forming. I can’t reach out to Maverick. Ever. That’s it. That’s all. End of story.

“I think we should host a showcase,” Nelly says. “Bring our best-performing round-one founders in along with prospective limited partners, and even those who have already committed. Leverage the success of round one to raise money for round two. We want to cast vision and make these rich folks feel comfortable trusting us with their money.”

“And we could have Hannah from Hue share how well things are going,” I add. “Her revenue is already bonkers. It’s an incredible return for her investors and a great track record for our fund.”

“Let’s do it.” Kashawn gulps down the last of her sweet tea. “My assistant can help organize it. She’ll call your offices to get the ball rolling.”

“I’m gonna order some of that 1947 chicken for Beth to go,” Nelly says. “She’s home with the baby. That’ll be a treat.”

“How’s she adjusting to not working?” I ask.

“It’s harder than she thought it would be,” Nelly says. “There’s a touch of postpartum. She may go back to work in a year or so, but right now, she just wants to focus completely on Gabby.”

“And is the firm being understanding about it?” Kashawn asks.

“Well, they say they are, but she was close to making partner when she got pregnant.” Nelly shrugs. “We all know the circus don’t stop for one mama.”

“Isn’t the saying the circus don’t stop for one monkey?” Kashawn laughs.

“Like I’m gon’ call the mother of my child a monkey.” Nelly sucks her teeth. “Shiiiit. Lemme get this chicken before she comes to her senses and realizes I don’t deserve her.”

Once we all have our to-go boxes, I reach for the bill, not surprised to find myself in a three-way tug-of-war with them to pay.

“It’s my turn, heifers,” I fake growl. “Y’all not gon’ block my blessings by not letting me pay.”

“There’s the church girl we know and love,” Nelly teases.

A breezy laugh slips past my lips. “We all know I’m far from the church girl. That’s my mama and Aunt Geneva.”

Some of the humor leaves their expressions, replaced by concern.

“How’s Mama Betty doing?” Kashawn queries.

Kashawn’s known my mother since college when Mama would visit me on campus at Georgia State. We were both on scholarship at a PWI trying to figure shit out in a space that seemed to at times only tolerate us. We experienced how being one of the few can drive you into the solace and safety of your community. I needed that level of support and acceptance for my survival.

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