Page 28 of Can't Get Enough

“She’s fine.” I offer the folder with the bill and my card to the server. “You know how it is. I think she’s holding steady right now.”

No need to go into the latest drama from Saturday night. It was no worse than it’s been before with Mama. I’m simply still coming to terms with it not getting any better.

We walk to the parking lot and I head toward my Mercedes G wagon. Kashawn sashays to her BMW and Nelly unlocks her Range Rover. Atlanta really is that city where Black affluence thrives. We named our fund Aspire to reflect the hopes of our founders, but also the spirit of this city that has been an incubator for Black strivers and hustlers for decades.

I’m sleepy and heavy lidded, trying to shake off the itis when I get back to the office.

“Who loves you?” I ask Skipper, placing a small Styrofoam to-go container on her desk, which she opens with a squeal.

“Ooooh! Sweet potato cake from Paschal’s.” She does a little shimmy in her seat and licks frosting from the side of the dessert. “Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome,” I chuckle. “Oh, and could you send some flowers to Nelly’s wife?”

“Special occasion?”

“Special person.” I turn on my heel and head into my office. “Hold all my calls. I need to get through some of this work before that three o’clock withPaste.”

“Sure thing, boss,” she says around a hunk of cake.

I haven’t been back at my desk for more than three minutes when Skipper pokes her head through the door.

“Yes?” I ask, clinging to my patience.

“There’s a call for you,” she says, her eyes stretched wide.

“Did I not just say hold all calls?” I drop my head into my hands. “It better be important for you to interrupt when I’m trying to make some progress here.”

“It’s very important,” Skipper says on a rush of breath. “I mean,he’svery important.”

I lift my head slowly to meet her eyes, a frown gathering on my face. “Who is on the phone?”

“Oh, no one.” Skipper gulps and grins. “Just Maverick Bell.”

CHAPTER 9

MAVERICK

I’m not sure why I called.

I have people for this.

Hell, I have Bolt for this. He even offered to reach out after he gathered some basics on the Aspire Fund. I usually never connect directly with the entity I invest in. Just send money and wait for it to come back to me with a return. I don’t know that I want to be involved yet with the Aspire Fund, but I do know that I wanted to speak to Hendrix again.

Am I the asshole for reaching out to her the day my breakup with Zere was announced? Probably. I’m not… pursuing anything. I don’t know Hendrix well enough for that. After three years with one person, I’m not even sure that I want anything with anyone right now.

But Hendrix intrigues me, and as jaded as it sounds, not many people do these days.

“Mr. Bell?” That deep, molasses-rich voice I remember from the party pours over the speaker and fills my office when Hendrix’s assistant patches her through.

“Hendrix, hi.” I turn away from my home office view, a stretch of Malibu beach, and fold my arms on the desk. “Thanks for taking my call.”

“Of course.” She clears her throat. “How can I help you?”

A grin cocks one corner of my mouth at her formal tone. I’vealready seen this woman turn a party out and cry in the matter of an hour. Not to mention the commiseration we offered each other down at the dock. I think we’ve skipped formal, but given the circumstances and her relationship with Zere, I understand the space she’s trying to insert here.

“I was hoping I could help you,” I reply. “Or at least your fund. Maybe. I’ve been looking for new opportunities.”

“Oh, sure. Well, like I said, the Aspire Fund focuses on supporting Black women entrepreneurs. As I’m sure you know, women make up less than two percent of all venture capital funding, and Black women less than half a percent.”

---