Page 30 of Pills and Potions: Kase
Yo… what is happening?
I glanced at my reflection in the glass partition and damn near didn’t recognize myself. My brows were relaxed, my jaw unclenched, and my posture was straight. I looked like a youthpastor about to open Bible study with a lighthearted joke and a prayer request sheet. Then I noticed something worse.
Why the fuck was my pants raised? I loved when they hung low; it gave me swagger. I reached down to pull them back to where God intended, but as soon as I did, I feltawkward. So, I decided to keep them pulled up and went to sit next to Blyss, who kept giggling.
“You okay?” Blyss asked.
“Yeah,” I answered too quickly, forcing a scowl back onto my face, but it felt off.
My facial muscles had gone soft, like they forgot how to frown. Even my walk had changed. I wasn’t gliding like usual. I was bouncing. It felt like I had rhythm in my step andhopein my spirit.
Hope?
Naw. That ain’t me.
Eventually, we got called into the office.We followed some clean-cut dude namedMr. Harmoninto one of those modern offices with glass walls and no real privacy, just enough style to make you think he was important. He looked like the kind of guy who had a golf app on his phone and took oat milk seriously. I sat down, trying to act like I belonged, while Blyss adjusted her tote bag and pulled out a notebook like she was ready for class. This was my first investment meeting. Not no street hustle, not flipping merch out the back. Real shit. I had a dream of taking my money from my clubs and putting it somewhere that grew while I slept. Stocks. Real estate. Maybe even tech. I had been watching YouTube videos like crazy, reading articles, and trying to level up. Because I knew one day the club scene would get old, but my money couldn’t afford to. This meeting was about securing that future. Only problem? I couldn’t focus because homeboy had astainon his shirt. Not just any stain. A bold-ass coffee drop, right over his heart like a target, all dried and settledin like it paid rent. While he talked about “portfolio diversity,” my brain had its own agenda.
Why he ain’t hit that with no OxiClean?
Do he not own a Tide pen?”
Maybe he spilled that shit this morning, but why not change shirts, though?
I nodded like I was listening, even leaned forward a little to fake interest, but I was locked in on that stain like it owed me back pay.
“If you’re serious about this round of funding, we’ll look at your current assets and liquid reserves?—”
“Is that... cocoa?” I asked out loud before my brain could stop me.
Mr. Harmon’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry?”
Blyss smiled but didn’t say anything.
I cleared my throat. “Sorry—uh… collateral. That’s what you said, right? Collateral.”
He gave me this tight corporate smile like he was trying not to call security, and then stepped away momentarily.
Blyss leaned toward me and whispered, “You really asked this man about his shirt?”
“I couldn’t help it,” I muttered. “That stain wasstaring at melike it wanted to fight.”
“You want this investment or not?”
“I do, but that shirt isdisrespectful.”
Blyss sucked in a breath, lips twitching as she held back a laugh, and slid the pitch documents over to me like she was babysitting a toddler with a crayon. I grabbed the pen, ready to sign where needed, but she told me to hold off so she could ask more questions. When he came back to sit back down, I couldn’t stop my eyes from creeping back to that damn spot on his chest. The man could’ve saidbuy Apple, get rich tomorrow, and I stillwould’ve been thinking,what temperature did he wash that shit on?
Once I zoned back into the conversation, Blyss was asking all the right questions. The girl was smart, like,reallysmart, and kept making sure I was good. The advisor said I could either start small with a couple of ETFs or go bold and join this real estate group looking to back young entrepreneurs. Said my name was already penciled in for a follow-up. I should’ve dapped him up, maybe hit him with a firm-ass handshake, and walked out like a boss. Instead, I gave him a damn high-five. Blyss looked at me like I farted in church.
We stepped outta that investment office feelin’ good. Blyss had this little bounce in her walk, grinnin’ all proud, talkin’ ’bout, “You did that, Kase,” like I ain’t just trip over every third word in the presentation. But hell, money moves got made, and I actually understood every paper they gave me, all ’cause she broke that shit down like I was back in high school, and she was my cute-ass tutor. Then she turned to look at me.
“What is wrong with you today?”
I shook my head. “I don’t even know.”
“Wanna hang out right now?”
“Doing what?” she asked, cautious.
