Black Buck(90)

Come Monday, she was ready, except she didn’t have any clothes to wear other than dirty boots, ripped jeans, holey hoodies, and T-shirts emblazoned with names of heavy metal bands. No clothing stores would be open before I had to be at Sumwun for the 7 a.m. meeting, so I called the only person I could think of who was about Rose’s size and wouldn’t ask too many questions: Marissa.

“Any last words of advice?” Rose asked, leaning into the Tesla’s window moments after Chauncey had let her out in front of the Flatiron Building. She looked more like a deer in headlights than I expected. Good thing she had more than two hours of waiting time to sort it out.

“Never look a baboon in the eye,” Marissa said from the far end of the back seat. “They take it as a challenge and will attack.”

Rose and I exchanged confused looks. “Anything else?” she asked me.

I grabbed her hand. “Always be better.”

“Better than who?”

“You know.”

We held each other’s eyes for a moment, then she pulled away, straightened up, and walked into the building.

At twelve, I got a call. It was Rose. “How’d it go?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “The VP of sales, some chick from California, asked a ton of questions. The CEO popped in and was ultra-aggressive, but I just stared him in the eye and didn’t back down. I met a few of their AEs, two twins who looked like extras from Entourage.”

“But did they give you an offer?” I asked, about to faint. “Did they discuss salary?”

“No,” she said. “Does that mean I didn’t get it?”

FUCK! Barry was going to destroy me. Everything I had, the cushy lifestyle, the power, the freedom, it was all gone. If she didn’t get an offer on the spot, she didn’t crush it, meaning she failed.

“I don’t know,” I said, coughing, trying to perk up. “It could mean anything. But, uh, as long as you did your best, that’s all I can ask for.”

“You sound like the Black Mister Rogers,” she said. “Have you heard from Brian?”

“No, not yet.” I was going to throw up. Between her bombing the interview and Brian still being locked up, I couldn’t take it. “I gotta go, Rose. I’ll see you at home.”

A few hours and a toilet bowl full of vomit later, Barry called.

“Hey, Barry,” I whispered, afraid.

“Buck, my man. What’s shakin’?”

“Nothing, at Sumwun. You know.”

“Fuck yeah, that’s why I love you. Always working. Listen—”

“Listen, Barry,” I said, interrupting. “Before you lay in on me. There was a mix-up. I was supposed to send someone else, but he got arrested, and I know she wasn’t ready, but she was the only other one I could send. I thought she would be good, but—”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I didn’t know you were sending a girl, but she blew them away!”

“What?” I asked, gripping my phone tighter with my sweaty hand. “Are you serious?”

“Serious as cholera, homie. The CEO was so happy he said he had to call the board before giving the offer to make sure they could afford her. Said something about them both being metalheads and legit being afraid to look her in the eye. Like a baboon. You’re never supposed to look a baboon in the eye, my man, did you know that? They think it’s a challenge and will attack.”

“Yeah,” I said, relieved. “I heard that before. So you’re saying she’s hired?”

“As hired as one of those expensive escorts politicians need to pay off with hush money. As hired as a Mexican on the side of the road who’s looking—”

“I get it, Barry. That’s amazing to hear, man. I’m gonna call and give her the good news. Thanks for letting me know.”

“No,” he said, the sound of metal clinking against metal, like a belt unbuckling. “Thank you, Buck. The CEO already made an intro to his dad for me, so I’m one step closer to buying the Giants. Do you have any more SDRs? I know he’ll need more. Hell, we can staff all of our portfolios with them if they’re as good as this girl.”

I laughed. “I think I can do that. Let me get back to you.”

When I got home, Rose and I cracked open a bottle of wine and celebrated with some feature on the History Channel about all of the US presidents who fathered mulatto babies with their “Black wenches.” In the middle of it, I got a collect call. Brian.

“Yo,” I said, drunk and weary.

“Buck, thank God,” he said, speaking quickly. “I’m getting out tomorrow. They called a lineup for someone who supposedly witnessed the murder, and it was just me and five other guys who looked nothing alike except that we were Black and had bad acne. They say I’ll get out tomorrow once they complete the paperwork.”

I bolted off the couch, spilling an entire bag of nacho cheese Doritos all over the floor. “YES!” I shouted, pumping a Black Power fist in the air.

“What is it?” Rose asked, her face covered in orange cheese, eyes as red as Lucifer’s balls. “Is he free?”

I nodded, and she started doing some weird dance that looked like she was in a mosh pit at a country hoedown.

“I’ll have Chauncey get you tomorrow and bring you straight to my place. He has an extra key,” I said, smiling so hard, my face hurt.