Page 15 of Mr. Big Stuff

“I didn’t want to explain how I’d messed up.”

“You’re going to have to explain this to me, Tracey. Messed up what?”

Even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I went on to explain how reckless I’d been allowing emotion to guide me away from a great job and pay. Not to mention, security. I had a mortgage to pay because at one point, I thought owning my home would be a sign of success. With the constant repairs and the heavy burden of ensuring I wouldn’t lose it, I wasn’t so certain anymore. I had to break it down to him. This temp job was needed even though I had qualifications not being utilized fully.

He nodded like it all made sense to him before leveling me with a serious expression.

“I beg to differ with you about your lack of impact, Tracey. You are doing all that for me. So far you have implemented a new query system that allows me to keep track of metrics across business sectors and you have completely overhauled my accounting system, which makes it easier to see my own profit margins and don’t forget how you stepped in and got me this meeting with little notice and time to do so. I think you’re selling yourself short. I meant everything I told Khalil in the helicopter.”

I sat with that for a while and made sure I was ready to back him up when Mr. Berry had questions before telling him earnestly, “I admit it took you telling me this for me to see what I’ve brought to your business since I started working for you.”

“Sometimes it takes someone else to help you see what we can’t. I also think you should be proud of yourself for making a change when you thought it would be good for you. So much of what I do is help people pivot towards their dreams. It’s just something that you were guided towards me when I needed you most.”

“Raymond—I …”

My words were interrupted by Khalil, who had changed into an orange Lacoste polo shirt, beige khaki cargo shorts and brown Gucci flip flops, returning and allowing us to present the Mr. Black Organization and the needs of this year’s Juneteenth event. He was impressed and offered to write a blank check. He also would ask his nephew-in-law, Rashaad,theRashaad that became an international sensation with his mellow R&B voice over acoustic sounds, to be our main attraction.

“I think we can askSizzle’s to cater, because you said you still needed to find one that could handle the large-scale event you’re throwing, but I’ll put you in touch with the owners, Cameron and Dani and they can tell you what they’re capable of. They’re friends with Zola just so you know. Also, I will throw in a hundred iPads for the raffles and door prizes that you requested.”

I rushed to type notes on my tablet as Raymond stared at Khalil with wonder. I didn’t blame him. The man said he wanted to help and this was way beyond the help, we could have imagined.

“I see what you’re doing here by curating an experience like this one. The block party is something special in the Black community. It doesn’t get enough credit as being one of the dopest gatherings in time,” Khalil continued. “Yours takes it to the next level. It sounds like a festival, an artist row, a health fair, and a museum experience, all wrapped into one. And then you’ll have enough good food there to make everyone too content to look for trouble to get into later. I gotta say, it pleases me much to see how you’ll bringourpeople together during a time when we need it the most. Our communities are falling apart, and our ancestors didn’t go through all of what they did for us to let it happen when we can make a change and make it now.”

It filled me with emotion hearing Mr. Berry praise the experience Raymond wanted to give the city of Pittsburgh. That he got the importance of making sure different generations had something to cling to, for no one to be left behind, was probably the best part of this meeting. Even before the heavy financial sponsorship.

“Put on the best Juneteenth block party you can, Raymond, and charge it to the company. I’ll have my assistant, Ginger, send you details so that it’s billed directly to an account I use for charity. Cool?”

Our mouths were hanging open and he was chilling like he didn’t just drop big money into our laps.

“Uh yeah, that’s cool, Khalil. I don’t know how to thank you. For real.”

“Send me an invite, man. It’s all good.”

Chapter9

Raymond

Yesterday’s meeting with Khalil Berry was probably my most successful business meeting to date and I barely worked for it. The man genuinely cared about his community and wanted to help. He didn’t need a whole lot of convincing to put his money where his heart was. And after countless interviews and articles written about him, Pittsburgh knew that the Black community was where his heart was. The presentation was really about dotting the Is and crossing the Ts to justify the expenditure.

After we were returned to the helipad, I drove Tracey home. When she announced she was tired before we even pulled up, I knew that she didn’t want me to be with her that night and I didn’t press because I had a lot to think about.

I was attracted to confidence in a woman and Tracey had loads of it in so many ways but lacked it too. That she felt so little about herself and the path she took so much that she hid it from me, bothered me. To me it was natural to sometimes see others progressing at a more rapid rate and have some envy or regret over how things could have gone but pride in oneself was necessary to not fall into a pit of loathing and I feared that she was there. Could I even consider being with someone that lacked confidence in self? And should I even be considering dating her? She was confident taking the dick but to be stuck on this perplexed me.

I had no answers, so when we were outside of her small bungalow style house, I leaned over and kissed her cheek and waited until she was safely inside before pulling off.

The next day I went by to see my mom since I canceled on her yesterday for the presentation. She told me to come by today after she finished her Sunday church service online. I wanted to see Pops after I left her but when I checked on him, there was a sign outside his door saying he’d gone shopping with other seniors organized by the facility.

The house smelled like she was cooking greens and smoked meat in the crockpot. I was thinking about how I could stick around to get a bowl. I didn’t see her immediately when I entered her living room.

“Hey, Ma. Where you at?”

“I’m on the balcony, baby. Do me a favor and grab that blue folder on my couch and bring it with you.”

I spied the folder on the end table and not on the couch and headed back towards the kitchen where the balcony door was. My seventy-year-old mother was seated in her wicker rocking chair while scrolling through something on her outdated iPhone. Neither her nor my dad would allow me to replace their phones even when I told them one day they’ll stop working altogether.

Her reading glasses were perched at the edge of her nose as she leaned over to get a closer look at something, making her silver and black pressed curls fall into her face. When I stepped outside, she looked up and gave me one of her smiles. My mother’s smile was the first smile I fell in love with. She is the first woman I loved. And my love and respect for her only deepened as I grew older. She and my sister were the first women I promised to protect but luckily for me, aside from a few stare down sessions with some dudes my sister Charise brought around, I never had to knock anyone upside their head. And Pops did a good enough job looking out for Ma even if all they did was fuss. He’d never let anyone or anything harm her.

What I told Tracey about my parents having a good marriage but still separating anyway, always bothered me. How could two people who seemed perfect in every way except one, just call it quits, I always wondered but they were at peace with it so I shut up about it after all this time.

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