Seeing Red - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
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I coughed awkwardly into my fist. These two others dudes, one darker and with gold teeth in his mouth and stringy braids, and the other, lighter with a gap in his teeth and very light eyes were sitting across from me with puzzled looks on their faces.
"So what brings a....person of European descent into the hood?" the darker one asked. "Are we about to be blamed of a crime we didn't commit?" He cocked his head. "Are you gonna Rodney King us? Are their militarized police outside? Did I walk on some white man's lawn and didn't give him a formal apology letter?"
"Nah, man, I could have sworn you wrote that letter," the lighter one said.
"Dear Mr. Farnsworth, I do hereby deeply apologize for my blackness and my black feet stepping on your white owned land. Please don't string me up by that cherry tree in your backyard. PS. Your daughter likes it rough and black," Gold Tooth mocked.
"No,..." I said, voice lighter than it should have been...but this dude looked a little shady. "I'm just here to speak with Ashley."
The lighter boy nodded. "You guys dating or something?" he asked, voice tense and hard.
"No." I coughed again. "I'm his boss." Well potential boss. But this was an offer he would not refuse. For my sake.
"Is that why you have a bouquet of flowers?" Gold Tooth asked. "You hire him then you gonna try to get with him or something?"
"No I-"
"Dick him down?"
"No actu-"
"But a nut?"
"I'm sorry I h-"
"Funny," he said, who must have been his brother. "I don't remember Ash saying he got a new job. And not to some Jake Gyllenhaal looking fool."
"He...I...we didn't reach an agreement," I explained. I shifted in my seat. This couch was lumpy and uncomfortable. No to mention green, which was an atrocious color.
"You staying for dinner?" Gold Teeth asked. "Do I need to break out the good plastic eatery?" He looked into the direction of what must have been the kitchen. "Yo! Moms!" he screamed, voice breaking, "we might need to good forks and spoons. We have a white guest!"
The lighter boy snickered. "Don't mind Kenzie, he's....extra."
"Yeah," Kenzie said. "Extra bang for your girls buck." He looked up me up and down. "That's a nice suit. You must be swimming in the poussey."
"I prefer guys, actually," I said. "Although keeping a woman on my arm is good for public image."
Kenzie nodded. "Playa on both sides," he said. "I can get with that." Then his nodding stopped with the lighter skin boy raised a brow at him. "I don't mean play with it, I mean I understand it. You the gay fool in this house. You, this white fella and my gay ass brother."
Before I could speak, Ashley came back from wherever he vanished to, hanging up his cellphone and folding his arms over his chest by the door. "Kenzie, Dennis, can you guys if us a minute?"
"Sure," Dennis said, pulling up the other guy and going into the kitchen.
"And tell Bill O'Reily his show sucks ass," Kenzie, brother, said before being grabbed into the kitchen.
Ashley rolled his eyes and turned to me. "I don't know why you are here, but I'd rather you leave," he said. "Before I call the cops."
Was a threat to call the cops on a white man in the ghetto supposed to frighten me? ha.
"Ashley King, all I want to do is help you," I told him. Or myself. Whatever. Best to lie my way through this.
"You want to help yourself," he said. Well, that charade ended quickly. "I'm not a moron. You're getting pressured to hire me. But you see," he came over and sat down on the arm rest of the sofa, "I can now make my demands."
"Demands?" Is this kid serious? I'm a billionaire playboy. And he is making the demands? NO way. "You don't get to make demands," I said, I laughed, I cackled. "You accept the lucrative job you are being offered, or go back to working in that hole in the wall that you most likely came from before the job offer."
"Then I don't accept it," he barked, he growled, he seethed. "You can get the hell out of my house." He gestured towards the door and a cat came running through the doors of the kitchen with a fish in between it's teeth. It sat at my feet and I reached down to pet it.
Girls always liked when you played with their animals. It always got me laid anyway.
Or was that the pile of cash and the big penis? Hmm?
"Wait," I said, trying to smile, but it was like trying to watch just one episode of Stranger Things, impossible. "What can I do to sweeten the deal."
"Full access," he said.
I nearly choked. "You are out of your mind."
"I want full access, I need at least a million dollar budget and I want a primetime slot when whenever I do a special." He looked into the distance. "Not only is it great PR for your company, it will get eyes on the race issues that this country is facing. I want to interview you first as well."
I raised a brow. "By interviewing me, all of that happens?"
"This is America, Reece. If it's not about celebrities, no one is going to care about it." He got up off of the couch and was now towering over me from my seat. "Those are my terms, Reece. Either you accept the or you don't."
This...was not a good idea. It wasn't gonna end well for either of us. But Mom had already threatened to nuke me if I didn't get him back. Perhaps a plan b was needed.
"Okay," I said. "but you will report to me and only me. If you find anything on me or my family that is compromising...you will turn in that information. Everyone else if fair game."
Ashley's eyes were a mystery to me. He didn't really show emotion that I could read. Only when he spoke I knew. "Deal."
I held out my hand for a handshake, but he just snorted. "You know the way out?" he asked. Heading for the kitchen, "I suggest keeping your head down, millionaire playboys tend to go missing at night in these parts. Along with their wallets."
I gulped. "See you at work tomorrow,'" I said. "Introduce you to the crew."
"Okay, boss." he laughed to himself, as the cat meowed at my feet.
RED's newsroom was bigger than my house. Filled with as many people as you can imagine, to the brim, running around with cameras and papers in their hands. Green screens with a weatherman. A woman combing her hair in front of a mirror yelling at an intern.
"This is how I pictured how white people reacted when Obama was elected president," I told Reece, who stood next to me. I inhaled a sweet breath. "White tears."
"I voted for Obama," Reece said. "Then again, I was high at the time."
"That's comforting," I came back.
He started to walk and I followed him as he walked through the crowd. The sea seemed to part when we walked, with everyone waving a hello. Some girls touched his arms. And some guys. All vying to hop into his bed and possibly become the newly crowned Queen of this place. Gross if you asked me.
Reece led me over to a blonde girl, tall and gorgeous if the only straight bone in my body (my chin) had anything to say about it.
"Baby," she cooed as some lady powdered her nose. She didn't even acknowledge my presence. "I can't wait to announce that I'm taking over the minority division. The ladies are getting me ready for it right now."
Oh. Oh.
He hasn't told his girlfriend that he's not going with her yet? Where's the popcorn when you need it? This should be good to watch.
"Babe, um, I've got a bit of bad news," he said, choosing his words carefully by the way they slowly rolled off of his tongue.
The girl frowned a bit. "That's your 'I'm about to disappoint you' voice," she said. "Like that time you told me that we'd be going to Florida."
"This isn't that bad," he laughed, then coughed. "I think."
She started playing with the hoop earring in her hands and stopped her help from fixing her face.. "Then what is it?" She finally looked at me. "Why is he here?"
"Because I'm the new head of the department," I said.
Her eyes narrowed almost instantly, but then they softened just as quickly. "Wonderful," she said, taking out the other earing and placing them on the makeup table in front of her. "I wish you the best," she said, smiling. It looked genuine. Which meant it probably wasn't.
She stood up and looked at Reece, "I guess I'll see you at the apartment," she said. "Where we can hopefully talk some more about all of this."
"Yeah," Reece said. "Anything for you, babe."
Anna didn't give me a second glimpse as she walked away from the table.
Reece sighed, throwing his head backwards. "There goes my free pussy."
He turned his head slightly, still aimed up so his eyes could glide to me, "You're making my life hell and you haven't even started yet," he grumbled. "Look, Ms. Mercury is going to do a press release about your hire, until then just, listen to Biggie Smalls or something."
"That's racist," I said. "And his professional name is THE Notorious B.I.G., you will refer to him as such."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he mumbled as he walked away still grumbling under his breath.
Once he left, I started looking around the room for something to do, but the only thing I found was disrespect.
Some blonde lady with a Bluetooth headset literally came over to me, rolling her eyes and stomping in her black, shiny shoes and threw her coffee cup into my hands, spilling some of it on me. Luckily it was iced coffee, so I didn't have to go to prison for attempted murder.
"THIS COFFEE IS COLD," she said. "I SPECIFICALLY DEMANDED CHILLED COFFEE, NOT COLD! CHIILED. DID YOU NOT LEARN THAT AT HARLEM HIGH OR WHEREVER IT IS THAT YOU CAME FROM?!" she asked and yelled, blinded by white girl fury, spitting acid and one direction lyrics onto my face. All she needed now was a mediocre rock/indie band to stan, and some ugg boots.
"I'm not the help, lady," I said. "And if you don't get out of my face I'm going to make you wish you lived in some Guatemalan forest with the apes."
"Aren't I already?" she said, sizing me up before stalking off.
"This should be a fun day," I mumbled to myself as worker after worker gave me strange, off-putting glances.
"You new here kid?" Another woman asked me from behind and when I turned around, ready for a racist remark, my mouth pinned itself.
Marie Luther, the most watched woman in news tv, emmy winning journalist with a cigarette in her hands and her, strawberry blonde hair swept behind her ear, was standing in front of me.
"What?" she asked, "Did your tongue's boyfriend leave it and it committed suicide by jumping down your throat?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, swallowing, " Not the tongue thing. I'm new here. Head of the minority department."
"Good," she said. "I heard rumors he'd hire that Anna Elise girl." She went to sit down, with nothing behind her, but as soon as it looked like she was failing, some intern saved her by placing a chair under her. She folded her klgs.
"Thank you Beth, or Mary or Lucy, or whatever the fuck your name is," she said waving the boy off. His name tag said Peyton. "Sweet girl," she said, not even looking back at him.
She lit her cigarette. "So, they finally hired correctly," she said. "This place could use some new, darker meat. I've grown tired of seeing the same pasty faces every day."
"That's racist," I said.
She raised abrow. "A black man acknowledging that you can be racist towards white people?" she snorted. "What is this, the twilight zone?"
"Anyone can be racist," I said. "Racism as an institution is what black people don't have. But anyone can have racist tendencies."
"We're all racist to some degree," Mrs. Luther said, blowing out some smoke. "None of us want to admit that, but in the back of our heads, we're all a bit racist." She flicked the bud. "We all like to pretend that we've never made a racist joke, or that we've never said words that we shouldn't have, but by damn, I can tell you this...if a white girl is in her house alone listening to a Nicki Minaj song, she's not going to stop just because she said the 'n word'."
"And you have said the n word?" I asked her.
"Dozens of times," she said. "Although half of those occurred during sex with a black man and that was the safe word." She waved it off. "The 60s were a weird time."
"I bet," I mumbled. "I should probably look for this Mercury girl," I said.
She nodded. "Don't be a stranger now, chocolate cupcake."
"Today's Wall Street Journal," Lola said, placing the magazine on my desk.
I slid if off. "I asked for Whiskey on the rocks," I grumbled at her.
She smirked. "I know,."
I narrowed my eyes at her. "I know it was you who called my mother," I growled. "You set me up to be crucified. Your Pontius Pilot and I'm Jesus."
"Are you kidding me?" she laughed. "A biblical allusion?"
"What's wrong with that?" I asked her. "The comparison is sound. He turned water into wine and I turned sex into love making."
"Whatever, Jehovah," she said rolling her eyes. "I did what I had to do to make sure this company didn't take too much of a hit," she told me. "The media is already laser focusing in on both you and your company. your father is gone, there are conversations about racism in the workplace, a young new CEO and your ongoing feud with Dylan O'Brien."
"My father isn't gone, he's recovering from surgery, I fired that racist lady, in case you forgot to put out the there for the media wolves; I'm the young new brash CEO and Time magazine gave me a glowing article and I slept with Dylan, he can deny it all he wants to but my shlong was lodged up his man cave that night after the Teen Choice Awards," I said.
"You are incredibly difficult to work for," she said. "Your father was never this crazy...no offense."
"Was that a shot at my father's dementia claims?" I asked. "He doesn't have dementia."
She folded her arms. "Baby, I was your father's assistant for three years," she said. "I watched him go from being an astute, vicious, casually racist businessman to a game playing, looney, overty racist businessman. He had dementia."
"Whatever," I said. "Have you given out the invites to the party on the weekend?" I asked of her.
Mother had somehow heard of the party Declan and I were throwing and insisted we make it a formal event with all the political big wigs in town.
So, here lies the body of my bastard sex orgy June 1 2016 – June 2 1016. RIP #sadface
"I have," she said. "I assume you're going to invite Ashley yourself?"
"Why would I?" I snorted, "doesn't he have Pokemon to catch or something?"
"That...was actually mildly clever, but still, Reece you need to bring him. Show your political big wigs that there is nothing to worry about."
"And if I don't want to?"
"Your mother's a phone call away...and your sister."
"Adopted sister," I noted. "Liza is in charge of public relations. I'm the CEO and COO."
"She's also your mother's favorite," she reminded me. "And Liza will take over as Chief Operating Officer the moment your mother steps down."
"That stung," I mocked. "However will I recover?"
"Don't be a little bitch," Lola barked. "And she's your sister."
"Yeah, I know," I sighed. "Number one backer since I assumed office."
"You're going to need her," she said. "Every man with money will be questioning your ability to run this company. You're going to need an excellent public relations manager and she's incredible at her job, so have her on your side."
"When is she back from visiting her birth mother anyway?" I asked.
"She should be back from Korea in about a day or two, in time for the festivities this weekend."
"Thanks," I said. "But also fuck you. Anna is pissed at me."
Lola rolled her eyes. "I just saved you a lot of angry tumblr essay posts," she said. "You'll learn to live with it."
"How was it?" Erika asked.
I held the phone up closer to my lips. "It's been a rough first day here. Can I come home yet?"
"Not yet," she said. "Have you noticed anything racist yet?"
"Is Lemonade the best album of the year?" I snorted.
"That...isn't a definite response."
"Are you questioning if Beyoncé had the best album?" I asked her. "Is there something you wanna confess to me?"
"Focus, Ashley," she barked. "Have you recorded anything?"
"Mentally? Oh yeah," I answered. "This place is crawling with casual racism. It might as well be a Texas high school during black history month."
"We can't do anything with mental notes," Erika said. "You're going to have to get it recorded."
"How?" I asked.
"Recorders..."
"Obviously, girl," I threw back, "I mean how am I supposed to place recording devices in this place? Everything is moved by the end of the day."
I was currently watching as these men with headsets moved set pieces around. "Nothing stays in one place at any point in time."
"Which is why you're not placing them downstairs," she explained. "You're placing them upstairs. Way upstairs."
"Where?"
"In Reece Red's office."
I nearly choked. "You've got to kidding," I said. "How on earth am I even supposed to get that close?"
"You're his new protégé," she said, "you're going to be in there a lot."
"Not alone," I said. "He's going to be in there with me. So, unless he's as blind as I am, he's going to notice me placing a recording device in his drawer."
"Damn it," she said. "We'll work that out. In the meantime, try to enjoy your new high paying job. And Rihanna's Anti is the best album this year."
"I'll try," I sighed "And also, stop lying to yourself," I said and hung up.
I turned around and nearly tripped over myself.
Anna Elise was standing behind me with her hands on her waist. "And who was that?"
"My orthodontist," I answered, standing up. Anna was as tall as I was.
"Do you really want this job?" she asked.
I raised a brow. "Does a black man really want to report on black man issues?" I asked. "Are you kidding?"
"I was promised this job, and it has been taken from me and something tells me you have ulterior motives."
"I'd say you've been watching too many dramas on television," I barked back. "I recommend Martin or Living Single. Late 90s, a beautiful time."
She smiled. "Just know I'm on to you."
"Honey, if you're on to someone, the last thing you want to do is tell them that you're onto them."
"I told my cousin that I was onto the fact that she was trying to steal my boyfriend from me in ninth grade. Did that stop me from dating him until the eleventh and, her, going on to get pregnant by some hobo on 43rd street? No."
"No offense, but I think I'm a bit smarter than you're cousin," I said.
"Congrats on being a little smarter than an iguana, then," she retorted. "See you around, Ashley King."
As she stalked away, Reece made his way over, smirking. "I see you've met Anna properly?" he asked, laughing. "A handful. Real spitfire."
"I hope Becky with the good hair spits fire all over your genital warty penis tonight," I barked back. "What do you want?"
"To invite you to a party," he said.
I glared. "Why? So you can elect me Prom Queen and then poor blood all over my head?"
"No, because then you'd kill us all in a fit of telekinetic rage."
He came around so he was standing in front of me, a bit away from my knees. He had switched from his suit to a lazy polo shirt and a pair of red short pants. Very rich. Very white.
"It's an important party this weekend, and I'd like it if you'd come so I can introduce you to some important men and women," he said. "It would mean a great deal to come if you came."
"To your ego," I said. "You want to parade me around." He might as well stick a sign on my forehead, saying 'I Hired This Black Man To Not Seem Like I'm In Charge Of A Racist Company Please Don't Take Away Your Money'.
But it would be a perfect opportunity to wreak some havoc, so why not? "Sure," I said. "I'll go if I can have a plus two."
"Plus one."
"Two."
"One."
"Three."
"adfghjkl," he said. "You just asked for two."
"Yes, and when you denied that, I moved up one."
"Fine, Jesus!" he shouted, throwing his hands u. "Plus three. Just be there. And dress," he looked like he was carefully choosing his words again, "Less urban."
I rolled my eyes. "However will I manage with my black boy attire?"
"So what brings a....person of European descent into the hood?" the darker one asked. "Are we about to be blamed of a crime we didn't commit?" He cocked his head. "Are you gonna Rodney King us? Are their militarized police outside? Did I walk on some white man's lawn and didn't give him a formal apology letter?"
"Nah, man, I could have sworn you wrote that letter," the lighter one said.
"Dear Mr. Farnsworth, I do hereby deeply apologize for my blackness and my black feet stepping on your white owned land. Please don't string me up by that cherry tree in your backyard. PS. Your daughter likes it rough and black," Gold Tooth mocked.
"No,..." I said, voice lighter than it should have been...but this dude looked a little shady. "I'm just here to speak with Ashley."
The lighter boy nodded. "You guys dating or something?" he asked, voice tense and hard.
"No." I coughed again. "I'm his boss." Well potential boss. But this was an offer he would not refuse. For my sake.
"Is that why you have a bouquet of flowers?" Gold Tooth asked. "You hire him then you gonna try to get with him or something?"
"No I-"
"Dick him down?"
"No actu-"
"But a nut?"
"I'm sorry I h-"
"Funny," he said, who must have been his brother. "I don't remember Ash saying he got a new job. And not to some Jake Gyllenhaal looking fool."
"He...I...we didn't reach an agreement," I explained. I shifted in my seat. This couch was lumpy and uncomfortable. No to mention green, which was an atrocious color.
"You staying for dinner?" Gold Teeth asked. "Do I need to break out the good plastic eatery?" He looked into the direction of what must have been the kitchen. "Yo! Moms!" he screamed, voice breaking, "we might need to good forks and spoons. We have a white guest!"
The lighter boy snickered. "Don't mind Kenzie, he's....extra."
"Yeah," Kenzie said. "Extra bang for your girls buck." He looked up me up and down. "That's a nice suit. You must be swimming in the poussey."
"I prefer guys, actually," I said. "Although keeping a woman on my arm is good for public image."
Kenzie nodded. "Playa on both sides," he said. "I can get with that." Then his nodding stopped with the lighter skin boy raised a brow at him. "I don't mean play with it, I mean I understand it. You the gay fool in this house. You, this white fella and my gay ass brother."
Before I could speak, Ashley came back from wherever he vanished to, hanging up his cellphone and folding his arms over his chest by the door. "Kenzie, Dennis, can you guys if us a minute?"
"Sure," Dennis said, pulling up the other guy and going into the kitchen.
"And tell Bill O'Reily his show sucks ass," Kenzie, brother, said before being grabbed into the kitchen.
Ashley rolled his eyes and turned to me. "I don't know why you are here, but I'd rather you leave," he said. "Before I call the cops."
Was a threat to call the cops on a white man in the ghetto supposed to frighten me? ha.
"Ashley King, all I want to do is help you," I told him. Or myself. Whatever. Best to lie my way through this.
"You want to help yourself," he said. Well, that charade ended quickly. "I'm not a moron. You're getting pressured to hire me. But you see," he came over and sat down on the arm rest of the sofa, "I can now make my demands."
"Demands?" Is this kid serious? I'm a billionaire playboy. And he is making the demands? NO way. "You don't get to make demands," I said, I laughed, I cackled. "You accept the lucrative job you are being offered, or go back to working in that hole in the wall that you most likely came from before the job offer."
"Then I don't accept it," he barked, he growled, he seethed. "You can get the hell out of my house." He gestured towards the door and a cat came running through the doors of the kitchen with a fish in between it's teeth. It sat at my feet and I reached down to pet it.
Girls always liked when you played with their animals. It always got me laid anyway.
Or was that the pile of cash and the big penis? Hmm?
"Wait," I said, trying to smile, but it was like trying to watch just one episode of Stranger Things, impossible. "What can I do to sweeten the deal."
"Full access," he said.
I nearly choked. "You are out of your mind."
"I want full access, I need at least a million dollar budget and I want a primetime slot when whenever I do a special." He looked into the distance. "Not only is it great PR for your company, it will get eyes on the race issues that this country is facing. I want to interview you first as well."
I raised a brow. "By interviewing me, all of that happens?"
"This is America, Reece. If it's not about celebrities, no one is going to care about it." He got up off of the couch and was now towering over me from my seat. "Those are my terms, Reece. Either you accept the or you don't."
This...was not a good idea. It wasn't gonna end well for either of us. But Mom had already threatened to nuke me if I didn't get him back. Perhaps a plan b was needed.
"Okay," I said. "but you will report to me and only me. If you find anything on me or my family that is compromising...you will turn in that information. Everyone else if fair game."
Ashley's eyes were a mystery to me. He didn't really show emotion that I could read. Only when he spoke I knew. "Deal."
I held out my hand for a handshake, but he just snorted. "You know the way out?" he asked. Heading for the kitchen, "I suggest keeping your head down, millionaire playboys tend to go missing at night in these parts. Along with their wallets."
I gulped. "See you at work tomorrow,'" I said. "Introduce you to the crew."
"Okay, boss." he laughed to himself, as the cat meowed at my feet.
RED's newsroom was bigger than my house. Filled with as many people as you can imagine, to the brim, running around with cameras and papers in their hands. Green screens with a weatherman. A woman combing her hair in front of a mirror yelling at an intern.
"This is how I pictured how white people reacted when Obama was elected president," I told Reece, who stood next to me. I inhaled a sweet breath. "White tears."
"I voted for Obama," Reece said. "Then again, I was high at the time."
"That's comforting," I came back.
He started to walk and I followed him as he walked through the crowd. The sea seemed to part when we walked, with everyone waving a hello. Some girls touched his arms. And some guys. All vying to hop into his bed and possibly become the newly crowned Queen of this place. Gross if you asked me.
Reece led me over to a blonde girl, tall and gorgeous if the only straight bone in my body (my chin) had anything to say about it.
"Baby," she cooed as some lady powdered her nose. She didn't even acknowledge my presence. "I can't wait to announce that I'm taking over the minority division. The ladies are getting me ready for it right now."
Oh. Oh.
He hasn't told his girlfriend that he's not going with her yet? Where's the popcorn when you need it? This should be good to watch.
"Babe, um, I've got a bit of bad news," he said, choosing his words carefully by the way they slowly rolled off of his tongue.
The girl frowned a bit. "That's your 'I'm about to disappoint you' voice," she said. "Like that time you told me that we'd be going to Florida."
"This isn't that bad," he laughed, then coughed. "I think."
She started playing with the hoop earring in her hands and stopped her help from fixing her face.. "Then what is it?" She finally looked at me. "Why is he here?"
"Because I'm the new head of the department," I said.
Her eyes narrowed almost instantly, but then they softened just as quickly. "Wonderful," she said, taking out the other earing and placing them on the makeup table in front of her. "I wish you the best," she said, smiling. It looked genuine. Which meant it probably wasn't.
She stood up and looked at Reece, "I guess I'll see you at the apartment," she said. "Where we can hopefully talk some more about all of this."
"Yeah," Reece said. "Anything for you, babe."
Anna didn't give me a second glimpse as she walked away from the table.
Reece sighed, throwing his head backwards. "There goes my free pussy."
He turned his head slightly, still aimed up so his eyes could glide to me, "You're making my life hell and you haven't even started yet," he grumbled. "Look, Ms. Mercury is going to do a press release about your hire, until then just, listen to Biggie Smalls or something."
"That's racist," I said. "And his professional name is THE Notorious B.I.G., you will refer to him as such."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he mumbled as he walked away still grumbling under his breath.
Once he left, I started looking around the room for something to do, but the only thing I found was disrespect.
Some blonde lady with a Bluetooth headset literally came over to me, rolling her eyes and stomping in her black, shiny shoes and threw her coffee cup into my hands, spilling some of it on me. Luckily it was iced coffee, so I didn't have to go to prison for attempted murder.
"THIS COFFEE IS COLD," she said. "I SPECIFICALLY DEMANDED CHILLED COFFEE, NOT COLD! CHIILED. DID YOU NOT LEARN THAT AT HARLEM HIGH OR WHEREVER IT IS THAT YOU CAME FROM?!" she asked and yelled, blinded by white girl fury, spitting acid and one direction lyrics onto my face. All she needed now was a mediocre rock/indie band to stan, and some ugg boots.
"I'm not the help, lady," I said. "And if you don't get out of my face I'm going to make you wish you lived in some Guatemalan forest with the apes."
"Aren't I already?" she said, sizing me up before stalking off.
"This should be a fun day," I mumbled to myself as worker after worker gave me strange, off-putting glances.
"You new here kid?" Another woman asked me from behind and when I turned around, ready for a racist remark, my mouth pinned itself.
Marie Luther, the most watched woman in news tv, emmy winning journalist with a cigarette in her hands and her, strawberry blonde hair swept behind her ear, was standing in front of me.
"What?" she asked, "Did your tongue's boyfriend leave it and it committed suicide by jumping down your throat?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, swallowing, " Not the tongue thing. I'm new here. Head of the minority department."
"Good," she said. "I heard rumors he'd hire that Anna Elise girl." She went to sit down, with nothing behind her, but as soon as it looked like she was failing, some intern saved her by placing a chair under her. She folded her klgs.
"Thank you Beth, or Mary or Lucy, or whatever the fuck your name is," she said waving the boy off. His name tag said Peyton. "Sweet girl," she said, not even looking back at him.
She lit her cigarette. "So, they finally hired correctly," she said. "This place could use some new, darker meat. I've grown tired of seeing the same pasty faces every day."
"That's racist," I said.
She raised abrow. "A black man acknowledging that you can be racist towards white people?" she snorted. "What is this, the twilight zone?"
"Anyone can be racist," I said. "Racism as an institution is what black people don't have. But anyone can have racist tendencies."
"We're all racist to some degree," Mrs. Luther said, blowing out some smoke. "None of us want to admit that, but in the back of our heads, we're all a bit racist." She flicked the bud. "We all like to pretend that we've never made a racist joke, or that we've never said words that we shouldn't have, but by damn, I can tell you this...if a white girl is in her house alone listening to a Nicki Minaj song, she's not going to stop just because she said the 'n word'."
"And you have said the n word?" I asked her.
"Dozens of times," she said. "Although half of those occurred during sex with a black man and that was the safe word." She waved it off. "The 60s were a weird time."
"I bet," I mumbled. "I should probably look for this Mercury girl," I said.
She nodded. "Don't be a stranger now, chocolate cupcake."
"Today's Wall Street Journal," Lola said, placing the magazine on my desk.
I slid if off. "I asked for Whiskey on the rocks," I grumbled at her.
She smirked. "I know,."
I narrowed my eyes at her. "I know it was you who called my mother," I growled. "You set me up to be crucified. Your Pontius Pilot and I'm Jesus."
"Are you kidding me?" she laughed. "A biblical allusion?"
"What's wrong with that?" I asked her. "The comparison is sound. He turned water into wine and I turned sex into love making."
"Whatever, Jehovah," she said rolling her eyes. "I did what I had to do to make sure this company didn't take too much of a hit," she told me. "The media is already laser focusing in on both you and your company. your father is gone, there are conversations about racism in the workplace, a young new CEO and your ongoing feud with Dylan O'Brien."
"My father isn't gone, he's recovering from surgery, I fired that racist lady, in case you forgot to put out the there for the media wolves; I'm the young new brash CEO and Time magazine gave me a glowing article and I slept with Dylan, he can deny it all he wants to but my shlong was lodged up his man cave that night after the Teen Choice Awards," I said.
"You are incredibly difficult to work for," she said. "Your father was never this crazy...no offense."
"Was that a shot at my father's dementia claims?" I asked. "He doesn't have dementia."
She folded her arms. "Baby, I was your father's assistant for three years," she said. "I watched him go from being an astute, vicious, casually racist businessman to a game playing, looney, overty racist businessman. He had dementia."
"Whatever," I said. "Have you given out the invites to the party on the weekend?" I asked of her.
Mother had somehow heard of the party Declan and I were throwing and insisted we make it a formal event with all the political big wigs in town.
So, here lies the body of my bastard sex orgy June 1 2016 – June 2 1016. RIP #sadface
"I have," she said. "I assume you're going to invite Ashley yourself?"
"Why would I?" I snorted, "doesn't he have Pokemon to catch or something?"
"That...was actually mildly clever, but still, Reece you need to bring him. Show your political big wigs that there is nothing to worry about."
"And if I don't want to?"
"Your mother's a phone call away...and your sister."
"Adopted sister," I noted. "Liza is in charge of public relations. I'm the CEO and COO."
"She's also your mother's favorite," she reminded me. "And Liza will take over as Chief Operating Officer the moment your mother steps down."
"That stung," I mocked. "However will I recover?"
"Don't be a little bitch," Lola barked. "And she's your sister."
"Yeah, I know," I sighed. "Number one backer since I assumed office."
"You're going to need her," she said. "Every man with money will be questioning your ability to run this company. You're going to need an excellent public relations manager and she's incredible at her job, so have her on your side."
"When is she back from visiting her birth mother anyway?" I asked.
"She should be back from Korea in about a day or two, in time for the festivities this weekend."
"Thanks," I said. "But also fuck you. Anna is pissed at me."
Lola rolled her eyes. "I just saved you a lot of angry tumblr essay posts," she said. "You'll learn to live with it."
"How was it?" Erika asked.
I held the phone up closer to my lips. "It's been a rough first day here. Can I come home yet?"
"Not yet," she said. "Have you noticed anything racist yet?"
"Is Lemonade the best album of the year?" I snorted.
"That...isn't a definite response."
"Are you questioning if Beyoncé had the best album?" I asked her. "Is there something you wanna confess to me?"
"Focus, Ashley," she barked. "Have you recorded anything?"
"Mentally? Oh yeah," I answered. "This place is crawling with casual racism. It might as well be a Texas high school during black history month."
"We can't do anything with mental notes," Erika said. "You're going to have to get it recorded."
"How?" I asked.
"Recorders..."
"Obviously, girl," I threw back, "I mean how am I supposed to place recording devices in this place? Everything is moved by the end of the day."
I was currently watching as these men with headsets moved set pieces around. "Nothing stays in one place at any point in time."
"Which is why you're not placing them downstairs," she explained. "You're placing them upstairs. Way upstairs."
"Where?"
"In Reece Red's office."
I nearly choked. "You've got to kidding," I said. "How on earth am I even supposed to get that close?"
"You're his new protégé," she said, "you're going to be in there a lot."
"Not alone," I said. "He's going to be in there with me. So, unless he's as blind as I am, he's going to notice me placing a recording device in his drawer."
"Damn it," she said. "We'll work that out. In the meantime, try to enjoy your new high paying job. And Rihanna's Anti is the best album this year."
"I'll try," I sighed "And also, stop lying to yourself," I said and hung up.
I turned around and nearly tripped over myself.
Anna Elise was standing behind me with her hands on her waist. "And who was that?"
"My orthodontist," I answered, standing up. Anna was as tall as I was.
"Do you really want this job?" she asked.
I raised a brow. "Does a black man really want to report on black man issues?" I asked. "Are you kidding?"
"I was promised this job, and it has been taken from me and something tells me you have ulterior motives."
"I'd say you've been watching too many dramas on television," I barked back. "I recommend Martin or Living Single. Late 90s, a beautiful time."
She smiled. "Just know I'm on to you."
"Honey, if you're on to someone, the last thing you want to do is tell them that you're onto them."
"I told my cousin that I was onto the fact that she was trying to steal my boyfriend from me in ninth grade. Did that stop me from dating him until the eleventh and, her, going on to get pregnant by some hobo on 43rd street? No."
"No offense, but I think I'm a bit smarter than you're cousin," I said.
"Congrats on being a little smarter than an iguana, then," she retorted. "See you around, Ashley King."
As she stalked away, Reece made his way over, smirking. "I see you've met Anna properly?" he asked, laughing. "A handful. Real spitfire."
"I hope Becky with the good hair spits fire all over your genital warty penis tonight," I barked back. "What do you want?"
"To invite you to a party," he said.
I glared. "Why? So you can elect me Prom Queen and then poor blood all over my head?"
"No, because then you'd kill us all in a fit of telekinetic rage."
He came around so he was standing in front of me, a bit away from my knees. He had switched from his suit to a lazy polo shirt and a pair of red short pants. Very rich. Very white.
"It's an important party this weekend, and I'd like it if you'd come so I can introduce you to some important men and women," he said. "It would mean a great deal to come if you came."
"To your ego," I said. "You want to parade me around." He might as well stick a sign on my forehead, saying 'I Hired This Black Man To Not Seem Like I'm In Charge Of A Racist Company Please Don't Take Away Your Money'.
But it would be a perfect opportunity to wreak some havoc, so why not? "Sure," I said. "I'll go if I can have a plus two."
"Plus one."
"Two."
"One."
"Three."
"adfghjkl," he said. "You just asked for two."
"Yes, and when you denied that, I moved up one."
"Fine, Jesus!" he shouted, throwing his hands u. "Plus three. Just be there. And dress," he looked like he was carefully choosing his words again, "Less urban."
I rolled my eyes. "However will I manage with my black boy attire?"
End of Seeing Red Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to Seeing Red book page.