Chapter 6

Chloe blew a kiss to herself in the bathroom mirror, then smiled, carefully put the lipstick back into her small purse, and checked her dress.

"Flawless!" she said and turned and walked out of the bathroom.

She headed back into her office and grabbed a folder. She was meeting with her boss, Brenda, this morning. She dreaded the meetings with her, who was always trying to relate to her on a level of color. She noticed Brenda never did this with her peers, but over time she'd gotten used to it.

Chloe quickly scanned through the folder and walked out of her office, then walked down the hall, stopped in front of an office door, and softly knocked. She heard a muffled voice say, "Come in."

As she opened the door, she noticed Brenda on the phone. She was speaking softly. Chloe stood in the threshold of the doorway, not sure if she should enter or wait. Brenda motioned for her to come in. Chloe shut the door behind her and sat in one of two large chairs in front of Brenda's large desk.

"Yes, I'm sure that will be fine," Brenda said as she nodded her head. "Okay, thank you." She hung up the phone and smiled at Chloe. "Chloe, what's up, girl?"

Here we go, Chloe thought to herself.

She managed to muster a smile and say, "Good morning, Brenda."

"I called you down here for a couple of reasons. First of all, our new client, Mr. Roberts, is looking to get into charities. He's been very pleased with your work and asked for you specifically on this project. He's looking around to partner with an organization. If you have any ideas, he's open."

Chloe nodded her head. "Okay. I have a few ideas. I'll run them by him."

"Great," said Brenda. "You know his account is big and very important to the firm. He seems to like you, your style. I don't know what you're doing, but girl, keep it up." Brenda smiled at Chloe. "I also wanted to ask you something else...non-work related," Brenda said.

Chloe raised her eyebrow. "Okay, sure. What can I help you with?"

Brenda stood up, walked over to Chloe, and sat down next to her. She then leaned in close to her. "I know I'm your boss and all, but I like to consider us friends. We have a certain vibe. You feel me?"

Did this woman just say "You feel me?" Chloe said to herself.

"I feel like I can confide in you. We're like sistas, or is it sisters? Anyway, I feel we have a bond." Brenda smiled.

It's "sistas", bitch, and where the fuck is this going? Chloe thought to herself. She cocked her head to one side, looking a little confused. "What do you need?" she asked.

Brenda hesitated a moment, then blurted out, "I'm dating a Black guy!"

Oh, HELL no! This bitch is too fucking much. Breathe, girl, breathe. What does she want me to do, throw a party? Alert the media! Breathe, girl, breathe, Chloe said to herself

Brenda smiled widely and leaned back into her chair as if she'd just announced she cured cancer. Chloe didn't answer; she opened her mouth slightly, then quickly closed it.

"I just wanted to talk to you and find out what I need to know about dating a Black guy. I mean, I never have, so any tips?" Brenda asked excitedly.

Chloe half-smiled. Is this bitch for real? Tips? What the fuck?

She took a deep breath and managed to say, "Well…a man is a man."

Brenda stood up. "Oh, I know that," she said, waving off Chloe's comment. "I just want to know what to expect. I mean, do Black men really…down there? What about cooking? I mean, I don't know the first thing about soul food. Hey, doesn't your friend own a soul food place?"

Chloe took another deep breath. "Brenda. I'm glad you're out there dating. As long as he treats you right and is kind, I don't think color really matters." She stood up. "And as far as your other question…well, I'm just gonna leave that right here."

Brenda frowned. "Oh, I hope I didn't offend you, Chloe."

Chloe smiled as she walked toward the door. "Of course not, Brenda," she said. "I'm going to reach out to Mr. Roberts."

She quickly opened the door and let herself out. She stood for a moment, then shook her head in disbelief. She quickly walked to her office, closed the door, went directly to her phone, and called Tallulah, who picked up on the 3rd ring.

"What's up, girl?" Tallulah said.

"Oh my motherfuckin' god! You will never guess what just happened to a bitch!" Chloe said.

"Someone tried to touch your hair?" replied Tallulah.

"Oh, you got jokes? No, bitch. Brenda, my boss, just asked me for tips 'cause she datin' a Black guy. She said that. Tips. Do you motherfuckin' hear me?? Tips!"

Tallulah laughed. "What? Are you serious right now?"

"Yes, girl. Then she gonna ask a bitch if all niggas have big dicks!"

"Wait, did she says 'niggas'?" Tallulah asked.

"T, no, if she would have said omething' like 'niggas', I'd be callin' you from jail."

"Wait. Chloe, did you trip out on her?" Tallulah asked, sounding concerned.

"You know what? I do know how to control myself and communicate with people. So no, I didn't trip out. I kept my motherfuckin' cool. I actually got the fuck out of there before I did go the fuck off."

Tallulah laughed. "So, what tips did you give her? Should I be writing this down?"

"Girl, bye," Chloe said and hung up the phone.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then decided to turn her attention to Stanley Roberts. She clicked on her computer, found the file on him, and opened it. She studied it for a moment, then called her assistant, April. April was a heavyset girl with brown hair. Her horned-rim glasses made her look older than she was. Chloe liked her. She was smart and very capable. She wanted to give her a complete makeover but never mentioned it to her.

"April, please set up an appointment with Stanley Roberts. Make it a few weeks from now," Chloe said to her as she stood in the doorway, quickly writing down the information.

"Is there anything else, Chloe?"

Chloe looked up. Have you ever thought about contacts? Chloe thought to herself.

"No, April, that's it."

April nodded and left the office.

"I wonder if she dates?" Chloe said out loud.

* * *

The lunchtime traffic at Zoe's place had thinned out. A few stragglers were still there, but the restaurant was mostly empty. Tallulah sat at an empty table and opened her laptop. She went to her email and quickly scanned her inbox, then stopped on a message that had "You & Me" in the heading. She clicked on it and read:

Dear Ms. Brock,

Thank you for submitting your writing samples. Your style is very unique. I would like to speak with you about an opportunity I have for a freelance writer. I would like to arrange a time to speak with you. Please call me. My office number is 555-887-9898. Speak with my assistant

Patty.

Thank you

Sharon Eckerson

Editor You & Me

She stared at the email. She read it again. She moved her mouth so as not to miss any words. She then smiled and said, "Thank you, writing gods."

Tallulah stood up and walked into the kitchen, where she found Zoe in her office, going over receipts. "I got one!" she said triumphantly.

Zoe looked up. "Got what?"

Tallulah sat down. "A job lead. I got a lead for a freelance writing gig."

Zoe smiled, put down the receipts, walked over to Tallulah, and hugged her. "Good job. I knew someone would recognize your talent."

"Well, I don't have the job yet. They just want to arrange an interview. But she did say my samples were unique."

"Who?" Zoe said.

"Sharon Eckerson, Editor of You & Me."

Zoe frowned. "Never heard of it. What do they write about?"

"Well," Tallulah began, "if I remember right, they're a glam magazine. You know, makeup, dieting stuff, fashion, and travel."

Zoe replied, "That doesn't sound like you. I've never known you to write about fashion or makeup."

She sighed. "It isn't me, but as long as it pays, I'll write about whatever they want."

"So, what's the next move?" Zoe asked.

"I need to call and arrange an interview," Tallulah said.

"Well, you can use the office phone if you want," Zoe said.

"No, I think I'll head home. I need to talk to Michael about my idea for the homeless shelter."

Zoe looked at her. "Your gut?

"I'm telling you, Zoe, there's a story there," Tallulah protested.

"Hey, did you hook up with Anna?"

"Tomorrow," Tallulah replied. "That's why I need to get with Michael today."

"Well, tread lightly, please, T. Don't go getting deep into someone else's business," Zoe said.

* * *

"If you continue to raise the price, I won't be able to print! " Michael yelled into the phone. He listened to the voice on the other end of the phone, and then abruptly hung up. "Fuck you," he said to the phone, then leaned back into his chair. "What I am going to do?" he said out loud.

He put his hands over his eyes and sat in silence for a moment. When he heard a light knock on his office door, he looked up to see Tallulah standing in the doorway.

"Is everything OK?" she said softly. He didn't answer. "I overheard part of the conversation.

Didn't sound good," she said, sitting down.

"It wasn't. I can't keep up with the rising cost of printing," he said, frowning.

"I'm so sorry, Michael. I know this paper is your dream," she said softly.

"I know print is old fashioned. Everything's online now, but the feel of a newspaper is something special. The way it sounds when you unfold it. The smell of the ink. I know it sounds corny," he said.

Tallulah didn't speak. She wasn't sure what to say.

"Well, maybe it's time to look at going online, a digital platform," Michael said, perking up.

"Maybe," she replied. "Do you know how to do that?" she asked.

He smiled. "Nope," he answered. "But I'm sure there's plenty of info." He sat for a moment. "Okay, well, let's change the mood in here. We're not out of business yet. What's up?"

Tallulah shifted in her chair. "Well," she started, "I want to do the story on the homeless shelter. I volunteered with Zoe last week. They lost their funding to open a bigger shelter. The anonymous donor backed out."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "So what are you thinking, you'll find out who the donor was?"

"No, I was actually thinking about highlighting the people who need the shelter to survive, maybe take a look at mental illness."

Michael opened his desk drawer and pulled out a chess game box. "I'll tell you what. You beat me at chess, and you can work your angle. I win, you work the donor angle. Deal?" He smirked.

"Really?" she said, smiling. "You know you haven't beat me in years, right?" "I've been working on my moves," he replied.

"Okay," she agreed, "you have a deal."

Tallulah leaned forward and helped him set up the board, then watched him as he concentrated on the game.

"Remember when you taught me to play?" she said, not taking her eyes off him. Michael nodded and raised his finger to his lips. "Shhh…concentrating."

"It was the first time we ever met…formally. I was getting out of reading Tom Sawyer." She smiled. "Wow, that was like yesterday."

"Tallulah, please, you're messin' up my strategy," he scolded.

"It's going to be a long afternoon," she said.

The game lasted a little over 90 minutes. Michael took his time concentrating on his moves, studying the board.

She was texting on her phone when he said, "I never should have taught you this game." "Oh, is it my turn?" she said, not paying attention to the game.

"Seriously?" he asked.

"Sorry. You're just taking sooo long between moves. I got bored.�� She smiled. She looked at the board. "Oh, checkmate."

"What the fuck?" Michael stood up. "I hate you," he said. She smiled. "I love you, too. I guess it's my angle, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Michael said, studying the board. "I really hate you."

"Well, your timing is perfect. I was just texting Anna, the shelter director. She can meet with me tomorrow.

Tallulah looked at the board, then at Michael. He was still studying the board. His hand was perched underneath his chin, and he had a scowl on his face. He muttered something.

"So…" said Tallulah. "I guess I'll be going." She stood up and backed towards the door. "It was fun…playin' you…again."

She stood for a moment longer and left the office. Michael continued to study the chessboard.

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