Black Buck(95)

“So,” Rose said, standing in Mr. Rawlings’s old living room. “This garden level will be for basic theory, the first floor will have a room where people can practice calls, and another where they can sleep if they’re tired. The second floor is mostly for role-playing, the kitchen for food, and the living room can be like a meeting space. Upstairs, we basically kept your bedroom like it was but turned it into more of an office for you.”

I looked around the room, now empty save for a few piles of trash.

“Who was this?” Rose asked, inserting a half-torn photo into my hand. “You, your mom, and grandpa?”

I quickly tossed the photo onto the trash pile. “No, must’ve been someone the previous tenant knew,” I said. “But, wow, HQ is starting to look good. You sure this is all gonna work?”

“It will if you want it to.”

“And what about the garden in the back? What’re we going to do with that?”

“Leave it as it is. We can use it as one of those little home farms that’re every hipster’s wet dream.”

When we got upstairs, people were already role-playing. There were half a dozen “Ring ring”s going off, and Brian, Jake, and Ellen screamed, “Click! Nope! Try again!” with glee.

“What’s all this?” someone said from the door.

Soraya and Jason stood there, stretching their necks to look around the room.

“This some Black Panther shit?” Jason asked, stepping inside, scanning the room. He was still in his uniform and smelled like French fries.

“Something like that,” Rose said, stepping forward. “Who the fuck are you, the Black Ronald McDonald?”

“Chill,” I said. “These are old friends.”

“Not really,” Jason said.

“Then get the fuck out of here,” Rose snapped, burning a hole in Jason’s head.

“Let me have a moment with them, Rose.” She looked up at me, concerned. “Please.”

She turned around, clapping at the recruits. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon. You want to be broke forever? Put some energy into these role-plays. Spit!”

“New girlfriend?” Soraya asked, nodding in Rose’s direction.

“Nah. She’s like a little sister.”

“Aight, nigga. I don’ know why you invited us here, or what this all”—Jason waved his hands around—“even is. But if you don’ get to explainin’ real quick, we out.”

I took a breath and slowly let it out. “Okay. First, I asked you here to apologize.”

“For?” Soraya asked.

“For bein’ an asshole. Actin’ like I was better than both of you. Forgettin’ where I came from. For—”

“Sucker punchin’ me like a li’l bitch,” Jason added.

“For sucker punchin’ you,” I whispered, “like a li’l bitch.”

Soraya slowly clapped. Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and stared at us. “Who knew this day would come? The mighty Darren, I mean Buck, Vender would admit he was wrong. He mus’ be in trouble,” she said, turning to Jason.

He smiled. “Mus’ be.”

“I’m not. The second reason I asked you here was to see if you wanted to join us.”

“Who’s us?” Jason asked.

“The Happy Campers,” I said, waving my hand around the room.

“Happy what? Nigga, I sell Happy Meals all day. I don’ need no more happy anything in my life.”

“It’s jus’ a name,” I said. “It can change.”

“And what do the Happy Campers do?” Soraya asked.

“We sell. I’m teachin’ all of them how to do what I do so they can get better jobs, make money, and get ahead. To fix the game.”

Jason shook his head and laughed. “And what’s the catch, huh? We become twenty-first-century enslaved people to some white man on Wall Street?”

“There is no catch. All I’ll do,” I said, looking back at Rose, Jake, Ellen, and Brian. “I mean all we’ll do is teach you and set you up with opportunities. If one is right, you take it and hopefully help others along the way.”

“What makes you think I wanna learn how to do what you do?” Soraya asked, looking like she was about to swing on me. “That either of us wanna be a parta the world that turned you into an asshole?”

“Because neither of you wanna stay here forever. Jason,”—I turned to him—“you wanna sell Chicken McNuggets for the rest of your life? Or go back to pushin’ weight?”

He clenched his jaw, and said, “Of course not, nigga. I’m tryna get my momma out the projects ASAP. Not tryna be stuck here like every other nigga who never got out.”

“Tha’s right. And you, Soraya, you’re tellin’ me you really wanna run Mr. Aziz’s stores until you’re forty? I get it if you don’ wanna be a nurse, but what we’ll teach you will allow you to be free to do whatever you want. It’s about more than workin’ at some tech startup in Manhattan forever. Once you learn how to sell, to truly sell, anything is possible.”

Reader: Quote that last sentence.



I looked down. My shirt was drenched with sweat. My heart thumped like a bass drum. “I can’t go back in time,” I whispered. “But I can help make your future better.”