Black Buck(97)

“But—but that’s unfair!” someone might cry, blue blood running through protruding veins on their white neck. “This is worse than affirmative action!” they shout, asking themselves how this happened, how good white folk like themselves managed to let a group of elite minority salespeople slip through the cracks. Well, to that I say, think of this as long-overdue reparations. But instead of waiting for the government to give it to us, we took it. But don’t fret, because we eventually found ourselves under attack, which is where I’ll pick up our story. This would be six months after the founding of the Happy Campers, in September, still in the clutches of a humid, swamplike New York City summer.



* * *





It was a Saturday morning, which meant it was time for Hush Harbor: the weekly meeting where every Happy Camper around the world gathered to hear the latest updates, air grievances, welcome new recruits, celebrate wins, and, of course, grill me during a fifteen-minute Q&A.

I was in my old bedroom—which, thanks to Rose the Builder, was now my office—reviewing updates and issues, and trying to memorize every member’s name when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” I said, not making an effort to look up.

“D,” Soraya said, holding herself as she slowly walked in, her cheeks damp with tears.

I jumped up and ran toward her, making sure not to touch her. It was a rule we’d established when she joined. “What’s goin’ on, Soraya?”

Within a week of joining the Happy Campers, Soraya had landed a job at a healthcare startup and was making more money than most of the other people we placed. I’d even apologized to Mr. Aziz for being an asshole, and he accepted it, so I had no idea what could’ve been troubling her.

“I jus’ dumped Jalal,” she said, plopping down on my bed, which Rose had kept in case I ever wanted to crash.

I won’t lie; seeing Soraya sitting on my bed and hearing that she just dumped that clown made me smile, but I quickly wiped it off. “Why? I thought you were two were straight?”

“Me too. But he couldn’ keep up. The new job, new friends, new money. All of it was a lot for him, and he became insecure and controllin’.”

I laughed. “Sounds familiar.”

“Shut up,” she said, punching my shoulder. “But, forreal, I’m sad because I thought he was the one. I try to be strong, but I feel like I’m gonna wake up and be fifty and alone with an apartment full of cats.”

Before I could think, I grabbed her shoulder. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, Soraya. If the guy couldn’ cut it, he wasn’ right for you. People either bring you up or down, and if it’s down, they gotta bounce. No matter how hard it is. But”—I lifted her chin—“don’ sweat it. You’ll find the right guy. You’re young, beautiful, out of this world intelligent, and only a li’l bit of a punk.”

“Asshole.” She slapped the shit out of my arm.

Another knock at the door. “Yeah?”

The door slowly opened, and a short light-skinned kid with glasses two sizes too big poked his head in. “Um, S-s-ensei Buck, sir, I’m sorry to b-b-other you, but—”

“Come in, Trey. What’d I tell you about looking shook all the time? This is how you ended up as my assistant instead of getting a real job.”

“Y-y-yes, sir,” he said, looking at his feet. “But I like being your assistant. I like helping the m-m-move—”

“Movement,” Soraya said, smiling as she patted a space next to her. “It’s okay, Trey. You know he’s harmless.”

Treyborn Percival Evans, clutching a notebook to his chest, sat down and smiled at Soraya. The kid stuttered worse than a scratched CD and always meant well.

After hearing us getting rowdy one day, he just knocked on the door and asked what was going on. Rose, seeing this small kid with ripped clothes and dirty sneakers who reminded her of herself, brought him upstairs, gave him some food, then presented him to me.

“What’s your name?”

“Tr-tr-treyborn Percival Evans, sir,” he said, avoiding eye contact.

“Okay, Trey. Nice to meet you. How can I help you?”

He stared at his shoes. “I d-d-on’t know, sir. But I need a j-j-j—”

“Job? You need a job?”

He nodded.

“Maybe I can help you, Trey. But I’m going to need you to pick your head up. No one we work with ever hangs their head, cool?”

He looked up and finally made eye contact even though it was obviously uncomfortable for him.

“Good. Quick learner.”

I told him about the Happy Campers, and he said he’d love to join. But after a month of training, we realized that he was one of the few people we encountered who didn’t take to sales, so I asked him to be my assistant, and he’d been my right-hand man and friend ever since.

“What is it, Trey?”

“It’s t-t-time for H-h-hush Harbor, Sensei Buck. Everyone’s w-w-waiting for you.”

“Well, let’s not make them wait any longer then. Tell them I’ll be right there.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, beelining out of the room.

“Big Bad Buck,” Soraya said, wiggling her fingers at me. “Such a scary, scary guy. Who knew?”