Black Buck(70)

I laughed, self-consciously pulling my cuff over my Rolex. “I wouldn’t say I single-handedly saved Sumwun, Sandra. That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

“That’s not what Wired magazine said a few months ago. They say you cold-called Barry Dee and closed him for half a million dollars.”

The audience of middle-aged white women were all on the edge of their seats, expecting a show.

“I can’t say they’re wrong, Sandra. But, candidly, I don’t read magazines, blogs, or the news. I don’t even watch Rise and Shine, America,” I said, playfully covering my face.

“How dare you!” she said, slapping my hands with index cards. “We’ll forget you said that. So, after you closed Barry Dee, it seemed like everyone from New York to San Francisco wanted to work with Sumwun, as if they’d forgotten about everything that had happened. How did that feel?”

“It felt great, what can I say? It’s hard to believe, but that’s what happened,” I said, pulling my cuff up. “Once we had Barry in our corner, especially after he joined our board, people realized that what happened was a one-time thing. We’ve since instituted rigorous vetting processes for all of our assistants, quarterly assessments, and more.”

“Yes, I read about that. It’s all impressive, but tell us about what’s going on in your life, Buck. You’ve accomplished so much in less than a year, and you’re only how old?”

“I just turned twenty-three,” I said, sitting up. “But, yeah, everything is still surreal. Working with Barry feels like I’m getting my MBA.”

“Which must feel like a lot since you never even went to college.”

“Exactly. It’s the best education I could receive. I’m helping him with the venture capital arm of the business, finding and funding the next startups that’ll have a large impact on the world. And everything at Sumwun is going really well.”

“Is it?” Sandra asked, narrowing her eyes. “Didn’t Rhett Daniels fire cofounder Chris Davids and a handful of other employees who supported the board wanting to fire him?”

“You’re right, he did. It’s incredibly difficult to work in an environment where you know people don’t have your back. So, as you said, Chris and a few others had to go, but everyone parted on good terms.”

“So what’s next?”

“I’m not sure, Sandra. I’m just enjoying the ride right now.”

“Well, we’ll all be watching, Buck. Thank you for your time.” She smiled into the camera until the greasy operator cut to a commercial.

“Always a pleasure,” Sandra said, removing her mic and her heels.

“The pleasure was mine. Thanks for inviting me back.”

“As long as you keep on making headlines, we’ll keep bringing you onto the show.”

I pushed my way through the crowd outside, hopped into the back of a black Tesla Model S, and waved to a few cameras from the window. Since it was still winter in New York, it was cold as hell out, but I guess not cold enough to keep tourists away from Times Square.

“Where to, sir?” Chauncey asked, his African accent thick.

“DaynerMedia,” I said, rolling the window back up. I pulled a small vial from my suit pocket.

“You must be very busy today, sir,” Chauncey said, driving down West Forty-Third.

“I am.” I poured the vial’s contents onto my phone and rolled up a hundred-dollar bill.

“But please, Chauncey.” I inserted the bill into my nose; took a quick, violent snort; and jolted my head back. “Stop with the ‘sir’ shit. You’re old enough to be my father.”

He handed me a tissue, and I wiped my nose before leaning my head back onto the seat and watching the city pass by.

“In my country, it is the duty of a chauffeur to refer to his employer as ‘sir,’ sir, so I only do it out of respect.”

“Then call Barry ‘sir,’ Chauncey. He’s your employer, not me.”

His eyes met my mine in the rearview, and he scrunched his eyebrows together, moving his thick dark lips into a frown. “Even so, you are a Black man, like me, who has made it in America despite how they treat us. I have respect for you.”

Respect is for suckers, Chauncey. Power is the new black, baby.

I closed my eyes and sighed, felt my veins opening up wider, my heart pumping faster, and all of the confidence from the show returning. “As you wish. But let’s get to the office as quickly as possible, please. Barry’s waiting.”

“Yes, sir.” He honked the horn as if he were performing CPR.



* * *





Hudson Yards, I thought, craning my neck to see the top of the building DaynerMedia was in. Just when you think there’s no more space in NYC.

When I got up to the twenty-ninth floor, I bypassed the main receptionist and found myself face-to-face with Tracy, Barry’s executive assistant, sitting in her private area. She allowed only a few chosen ones unfettered access to the boss.

“The camera really caught your good side, Buck.” She looked up from her computer with a wink.

“Thanks, Trace. Has he been waiting long?”

“No, he was watching the interview too. I think he liked it, but I wish you would’ve mentioned how Barry’s radiant, intelligent, visionary EA was the one who let you through to him on that fateful September day. You know you wouldn’t be here without me,” she said, half smirking, half making puppy-dog eyes at me.