Black Buck(91)

“Thanks, Buck. For everything,” he said. “Don’t know what I’d do without you, big bro.”

“Of course, Brian. See you soon.”



* * *





After work on Tuesday, I got home and found Brian on the couch, rocking back and forth in the fetal position like he was in a trance.

“Yo,” I said, grabbing his shoulder.

“Fuck!” he shouted, staring at me with a face full of fear as if he had just realized I was there.

I knelt beside him. “Brian, you good? It’s all over, man. You didn’t get turned into a punk in a few days, did you?”

He turned away from me, hugging a cushion tighter. “No, but I’ve never been—SHIT!—sorry. I’ve never been that scared in my entire life, Buck. People were screaming all night, the food was just stale PB and J sandwiches, and it felt like, I don’t know—COCK!—like the people in charge didn’t care what happened.”

“That’s the American judicial system for you, Brian. But you’re good, man. I’m sorry that happened.”

“It’s okay,” he said, sniffling into the pillow. “It wasn’t your fault.”

I scratched the back of my head and looked around the room. “I mean, it sort of was, but I won’t let anything like that happen to you ever again. I promise.”

“I know, Buck. I know.”

It was a little corny, but I didn’t know what else to do, so I just sat on the couch and held him for a while, realizing that the consequences of my actions were real and that I had to be more careful.

Reader: The things we do and say on this earth, whether as salespeople or just people, matter. As do the things we don’t do or say. To be a salesperson is to believe that you are the master of your own destiny, something never to be taken lightly.



Rose was supposed to get back after I did since she had to sign her formal offer letter. We invited Ellen and Jake over to celebrate the first of the bunch getting a job and Brian getting out of jail, and to talk about who would get the next interview and other logistical questions.

The buzzer went off.

“Hello?”

“Buckaroo, it’s Rose. The papers are officially signed, sealed, and delivered.”

“Rose? Why are you buzzing?”

“Just come downstairs,” she said. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Brian and I grabbed our coats, and hopped into the elevator. When we stepped outside, no one was there.

“Over here!” someone shouted from Stuyvesant Square Park. I looked over and saw a group of about fifteen people huddled around the flower garden in the park’s center.

I turned to Brian. “You know anything about this?”

“No, how could I?”

We crossed the street and entered the chilly, dimly lit park. As we neared the group, I made out the shapes of Rose, Ellen, and Jake standing near other people wearing puffy jackets, beanies, and scarves.

“Okay,” I said, shivering. “What’s going on?”

The three of them smiled at one another.

I nodded at the small crowd behind them. “Are you with them?” I took a closer look and realized that the people wearing the beanies and scarves all shared something in common: black and brown skin.

“Yeah,” Rose said, stepping forward. “And so are you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? It’s freezing. Cut the shit and let’s go up. It’s time to celebrate.”

“Each one teach one, bruh,” Jake said, lining up next to Rose.

“Why do I feel like I’m being ambushed?”

“What you did,” Rose said, tears pooling in her eyes under the orange glow of the park’s lights. “You’ve changed my life.”

“You’ve given us a gift,” Ellen said, joining Jake and Rose.

“None of you except Rose even has a job.” I turned around and walked back toward the apartment. “So quit whatever this is and let’s go.”

“These people,” Rose said, nodding to the group behind them, who were staring at us. “They want to learn from you, just like we have. They want to learn how to sell.”

“You promised you wouldn’t invite anyone else.”

“I didn’t. Well, not really. After I signed my offer letter, I posted on Facebook, saying, ‘I got a job! This girl is one happy camper.’ After that, friends, mostly people like me, who are smart but need help, started to ask questions about what the job was and how I got it. I didn’t think it’d do any harm, so I told them about my ‘sensei,’ and I may have accidentally said a few of us were meeting tonight.”

I looked at the group of people, who were still staring at us, then at the four of them. “You four. My apartment. Now.”

Once we were all in the living room, I rained fury on them. “You’re taking advantage of me!” I shouted. “Each and every one of you. I’m not some sort of charity. This isn’t Buck’s Sales Bootcamp for the Downtrodden. Who do you think I am? Tell them, Brian; tell them how wrong this all is.”

“I mean”—he shrugged—“why not, right?”

“Why not?” I stormed toward him and shook the shit out of him. “Why not? Because I have other responsibilities. I have Sumwun, everything with Barry, my social life, my—”