Black Buck(112)

I stared into her dark eyes, remembering how she was there for me whenever I thought I couldn’t do it, whenever I didn’t believe in myself, whenever I needed someone to hold me in the right way.

“I love you, Soraya. And I’m so sorry for everything that happened. For how I took you for granted. For how I was never around when you needed me most. For how I turned into a—”

“Big asshole?” she said, running her fingers over the cuts on my cheek. I inhaled, and even with burnt lungs, I could taste the cinnamon and cocoa butter on her skin.

“That,” I replied, laughing.

“I love you too, D. And even though you lost yourself for a bit, I love who you are now, who you’ve become. Mrs. V would be proud.”

“Then kiss me,” I said, pain pulsating through my cracked and splintering lips.

She leaned in. I rose to meet her, my entire soul bending in desire. But before our lips touched, she poked me in the chest, laughing like a hyena.

“Huh?” I opened my eyes.

She was grinning at me. “Kiss you? You’re crazy, D. I said I love you, but that doesn’ erase everything that happened between us. If you want me, you’re gonna need to earn me, little by little. And even if that does happen, I’m not kissin’ you until you take a test for every STD under the sun so I know you didn’ catch anything from all those girls you were runnin’ around with. Deal?”

“Damn. Aight,” I said, lying back down, defeated. But then I smiled, remembering that, after everything that had happened, she was still there. “Same team, same dream?” I asked.

“Always.”





34





I got out a few days later, and we held Trey’s funeral at the same church as Ma’s; it was open only to Happy Campers. We looked everywhere for Trey’s people but couldn’t find anyone. Between Facebook and the white pages, there were tens of thousands of people with Trey’s last name, Evans, across the entire country. It was like looking for a shell in the ocean. We announced his death across social media and even took out an ad in the Daily News, but no one followed up or ever claimed his body—it was like he hadn’t existed until he walked into HQ off the streets.

Rhett knew what had happened, but I assured him I’d be fine for Friday. The plan was still to speak at the conference, then quit Sumwun and go Happy Camper full time. Surprisingly enough, after the media told the world that I was the leader, hundreds of people asked if they could join or set up their own chapters in places like South Africa, Italy, and Brazil. After I told the Talented Fifth about going full-time, they all thought it would make sense to join me, so they planned to quit their jobs at the end of September.

On top of all of that, I promised to downsize my life. There was no reason I needed a fancy apartment, expensive clothes, and other flashy shit. We were going to be models of how the twenty-first-century salesperson should live—not like monks, rejecting all material possessions, but also not like rock stars who lived only for themselves. We were going to run workshops and travel the world building the foundation for our other chapters. Man, the plan was perfect. It really was. All I had to do was speak at Sumwun’s conference, then I’d be free. Even Barry had texted me after the news broke and said he was proud of me or, in his own words: Luv the blk pnther shit! Keep the SDRs comin and we’re good. Once you go blk, u cant go back!

“Where to, Buck?” Chauncey said, wearing a light-green linen suit I’d recently bought him as a thank-you for all of his hard work. “I know it is a big night.”

“That’s right, Chauncey. After tonight, I’ll be a free man. And so will you, if you want.”

Chauncey cut his eyes at me in the rearview, wrinkling his brow. “What do you mean?”

I laughed. “I mean that, if you want, you can quit driving me around and come work for the Happy Campers.”

He looked back to the road and nodded. “What would I do?”

I rolled down the window and took in a big breath of New York City: trees blowing in the late summer, early fall air; the stench of garbage and cigarettes; the sounds of the subway screeching below.

“Whatever you want. We can discuss logistics later. You can run security, cook up some of your delicious Senegalese food, or shit, I could even teach you how to sell.”

He rocked in his seat before breaking into his signature smile. “Ah! Buck. You are too good to me. I will discuss with Fatou tonight. Maybe I would like to sell. When I was a kid, I used to catch fish with my father from the ocean and sell them in the market, so maybe I already have some skills?”

“Yeah, I bet you already do,” I said, steadying my heartbeat, excited and afraid of really being free to live on my own terms without Rhett or anyone else telling me what to do. “First stop is the conference, Madison Square Garden. Then back to HQ to celebrate.”

As we arrived, Chauncey looked around, and said, “Well, this does not look like much of an event, Buck.”

He was right. Madison Square Garden didn’t look any different than on any other day. People rushed in and out of Penn Station; taxis lined up for those old-school enough to take them; sweet and salty smoke billowed from food carts; and, of course, there was classic New York City honking mixed in with “Fuck you!”s.

Contrary to what I expected, there was no gang of reporters loitering outside ready to attack, not even huge signs bearing Sumwun’s logo. Just Frodo and a few of the newer SDRs pointing people in the right direction.