Shit. Nate steepled his fingers. Jack was probably right about that. He needed to let the lawyers do their job and earn the money he paid them—he had enough on his plate as it was. This afternoon he was meeting with senior management and HR. Because of the lawsuit, the company’s promotion and advancement process was under the most intense scrutiny of its twelve-year existence, and he needed to find out why it didn’t appear to be functioning as originally designed.

  “Look, I understand this is hitting you hard and you want to fix everything now. But just remember the financials of the company are great, and on the whole, the employees are happy. This lawsuit is a bump in the road. It’s all going to work out.”

  Nate gave his friend a wan smile. Jack was the consummate cheerleader. In high school and college, if he needed his spirits lifted, Jack had always been there, and almost never trying to be a prick about it. Fortunately, he was also one of the best, if not the best, chief technology officers in the business.

  “You’re right. And if I haven’t told you this before, thanks for keeping the business running smoothly while I’ve been gone.”

  “Hey, it’s nothing. I’m just doing my job.”

  Nate considered himself lucky to have him as his CTO but even luckier to have him as a friend.

  * * *

  Kennedy stood at the head of the conference room and took in the faces of the six contractors set to deploy to Fields Literary Agency the following day.

  Before anyone was sent out to a client, they were brought in for a mandatory half-hour training session, where they learned what Token offered their contractors besides a paycheck. Jonathan had taken over teaching the class from her a year ago, but in the name of keeping herself familiar with the material, she tried to teach one every quarter. Today, her office manager was seated in the back, quietly observing, and there if she needed him.

  “Okay, now that everyone is seated, let’s do a quick roll call. I like to do this to make sure I get everyone’s name right, so please let me know if I mispronounce yours.”

  She glanced down at the list of names in her hand. “Jane Tanaka, Annabella Cortez, Jamal White, Claudia George, Farid Kaur, and Andre Simpson.”

  After she called out each name, a corresponding hand went up. In the end, no one corrected her, which was great because names had been butchered in the past.

  Kennedy then introduced herself and gave them the five-minute spiel about Token, explaining its mission statement and overarching goal.

  She then spent the next fifteen minutes detailing all the benefits it offered its contractors, the most attractive being a guaranteed in-person interview at the client company for a permanent, full-time position for those actively looking for a job.

  “Tomorrow you’ll be reporting to Timothy Black, and—” Kennedy broke off when Andre, a thirty-four-year-old Black man, raised his hand.

  “Is he white?” he asked.

  “Uh, yes...” Interesting question. Usually, that was a given.

  Andre pointed to Jamal, who sat in front of him. “So, Jamal White is Black and Timothy Black is white. Things could get confusing tomorrow.”

  Snickers and titters filled the room. Kennedy couldn’t stop herself from joining in the laughter. There was a jokester in every group.

  “I don’t know how people will be able to tell us apart,” Jamal added with a smirk, undoubtedly used to his last name being used as a punch line.

  “You can always pencil a mole on your face. I heard that works,” Annabella offered with a dimpled smile.

  More laughing ensued.

  It seemed as if the group would do well together tomorrow. As part of their duties, they would be participating in a photo shoot for the company brochure. The literary agency needed “candid” images of a diverse workforce—something they were working frantically to address. Where once upon a time, stock images would have done the trick, these days, companies chose to forgo their use. The risks of seeing the same images on another company’s website or brochure were too high and opened them up to sharp criticism and unfavorable press.

  Butting up against the half-hour finish time, Kennedy knew she needed to wrap things up. “Any other questions?” she asked, looking around.

  Farid raised his hand. “How much diversity are they looking for? Like, should I wear a turban?” he asked in a distinctive New York accent.

  Kennedy took in Farid’s dark hair, which was cut close on the sides and back and longer at the top. “Do you normally wear one?” She highly doubted he did.

  “No, but I could get one if that’s the kind of diversity they’re looking for.”

  “Then I suggest you do without one. I think you’ll be perfectly fine the way you look now.”

  For many of the agency’s recruits, this was more of an acting gig than a job. For others, this was a foot in the door. Kennedy knew for a fact that Claudia and Jamal hoped to land full-time jobs with the literary agency, and she’d made sure Timothy Black was aware of that. If her prior experience was any indication, their chances of being offered employment were high. They both possessed the right background for the positions the agency needed to fill.

  When it came to Farid, it was clear theatrics were his bent. He’d give them all the diversity and culture their hearts desired. She loved his attitude.

  “Excuse me, Kennedy, sorry to interrupt—”

  Kennedy’s gaze shot to where Mina Shah stood in the partially open door. Mina was the client coordinator and had been a part of the agency’s first round of hires.

  “—but something’s come up.” Mina’s expression suggested a Category 3 hurricane was about to hit.

  Senses on heightened alert, Kennedy quickly excused herself and hurried to the door. Jonathan joined her as she stepped out of the room. After he closed the door behind them, the three shuffled out of sight of the class.

  “Ainsley Fields called from Fields Literary Agency,” Mina said, her voice slightly breathless. “They just got a call from a reporter at the Globe. He’s working on a story that accuses them of using stock images for a company brochure they put out six years ago. He’s giving them twenty-four hours to respond and then the story’s going live.”

  Jonathan groaned and shook his head. “Oh shite.”

  Well, that was that. There was no way the agency would be able to get away with another brochure full of fake employees. Not now and probably never again. Which meant the shoot tomorrow was off and no work for their six contractors.

  Kennedy immediately began to plot out a damage-control strategy. “Well, it’s better it happened now than after they put out the brochure that could lead back to us.” Although, they did a pretty good job in covering the tracks that connected the freelance contractors to the agency.

  “In that case, disaster narrowly averted.” Jonathan hastily made a sign of the cross. He was agnostic.

  “Tell that to Ainsley Fields,” Mina said. “She’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown.”

  Given Ainsley was looking to diversify her client list, the timing of the story couldn’t have been worse. Not that there was ever a right time for a business to be discovered cooking their diversity books.

  “I’ll give her a call in a few. In the meantime, Jonathan, I need you to contact all our HBCU alumni groups and let them know we’re looking for experienced literary professionals for upper-and middle-management positions.”

  Kennedy had advised Ainsley that diversity required a top-down and everywhere in between approach. It wasn’t enough to simply bring on a few diverse faces as junior agents and clerical staff, and put out a company brochure that resembled an old Benetton ad. The publishing industry had changed since the former executive editor had hung out a shingle seventeen years ago. Ainsley had agreed but was dragging her heels when it came to the more senior positions and management.

  Kennedy bet she’d be more amenable to her recommendations now.

  “Got it. I’m on it, boss,” Jonathan said with a brisk nod, and he made a beeline for his office.

  Kennedy turned to Mina. “I need you to call Timothy Black and see if you can move up Claudia’s and Jamal’s interviews. The sooner we can get them in there, the better.”

  “I’ll call him now,” Mina said before hurrying off to do her bidding.

  Squaring her shoulders, Kennedy returned to the conference room to give the contractors the news.

  12

  Minutes after dismissing her class, Kennedy, earbud in place, paced her office as she did her best to calm her panicked client. “Ainsley, listen to me. It’ll be okay. I’ve got this. Leave the reporter to me.”

  “No, you don’t understand. Dawn Robinson’s manager called yesterday. Dawn is looking for literary representation and I made her short list. They want a meeting.”

  Wow! Okay. No wonder Ainsley was in a tizzy.

  Last year, Dawn Robinson became the first Black person—man or woman—to take home an Oscar for best director. The win jettisoned her into the spotlight, and in a recent interview, the normally intensely private director revealed she was working on a memoir. Within days of her announcement, offers from publishing companies began flooding in. The bidding war for her book was shaping up to be one for the ages, and there was already talk of a movie deal. Needless to say, the forty-eight-year-old Oscar winner would be any literary agent’s dream come true.

  During another aimless trip from the door to the window, Kennedy came to an abrupt stop. She had an idea. If Hollywood was as small a world as everyone claimed, maybe Ainsley still had a chance at catching the biggest literary fish to come along all year. Or at least meeting with her.

  “Take the meeting. I’ll deal with the reporter and whatever press the story generates when it comes out. But you have to take the meeting no matter what.”

  “There won’t be a meeting when she cancels,” Ainsley stated mournfully, as if it were a foregone conclusion.

  Kennedy might not be able to pull a rabbit out of a hat, but she did know a few people in the industry who had clout. “Well, my goal is to make sure she doesn’t, and then the rest is up to you.”

  By the time Kennedy hung up the phone, Ainsley needed Tylenol instead of Valium and agreed to interview candidates for senior and management positions as soon as Jonathan could get them in the door. The diversity top-down and everything in between approach was in full swing.

  Next on her to-do list was the reporter. Her conversation with him was cordial and intended to disarm. She gave him a spiel on how the use of stock images for marketing purposes was once common among businesses and colleges. Unfortunately, Fields Literary Agency got caught in the fuzzy transition between acceptable and frowned upon. In other words, unless he planned to take every other institution to task, this was a nonstory.

  Expounding on that, she suggested perhaps the story would be better served as a compare-and-contrast piece. He could detail the changes society had undergone since the days when the use of stock images for that purpose used to be commonplace—a mere six years ago, in the case of the Fields brochure. Who knows, your paper may have used them once too, she offered guilelessly. When he didn’t dismiss the idea outright, Kennedy knew she’d given him something to think about, and she hoped he thought about it long and hard.

  After finishing up with the reporter, Kennedy sought out her partner in business and crime. She found Aurora in her office at her computer, her hair done up in a sophisticated ponytail.

  “Morning,” Kennedy said as she took a seat in the guest chair and made herself comfortable.

  Aurora tore her gaze from the monitor and stopped typing. “Hey, I heard what happened. You were on the phone when I came in, so Jonathan filled me in. All I can say is, we really dodged a bullet with that one.”

  Kennedy let out a dry laugh. “Don’t I know it.” The whole incident had begun to leave a bad taste in her mouth and she wondered, not for the first time, whether the carrot approach to attracting clients was the right way to go.

  “So what now?”

  “I say we pay everyone who was supposed to go tomorrow. Is that okay with you? I mean, it isn’t their fault the whole thing went upside down and sideways.”

  “Absolutely,” Aurora agreed, nodding.

  “The reporter said he’ll let us know twenty-four hours in advance before they run the story, so we’ll have some time to get ahead of it.” Kennedy now sincerely believed that no matter which story the paper ran, the literary agency would be fine. In the context of what was acceptable then and what was acceptable now, her argument was on solid ground.

  “My dad’s worked with Dawn Robinson, so if you need me to put in a word, I’d be more than happy to,” Aurora offered before quickly covering her mouth as a yawn overtook her. Grinning sheepishly, she said, “I need to get more sleep.”

  Kennedy studied her friend. Her Spidey senses were tingling. Something was up. “All right, what’s going on with you?”

  Aurora stared at her, blue eyes wide and questioning. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m talking about the fact that you’re usually at your desk by eight every morning and in the last week or so you’re coming in after nine. And now you tell me you haven’t been sleeping. Are you seeing Jake again and not telling me?”

  Six months ago, Jake, her ex-boyfriend, had issued Aurora an ultimatum: either they move in together—which entailed him moving into her multimillion-dollar brownstone—or he was gone. Since he’d said it while they were at said brownstone, Aurora had promptly retrieved his toothbrush and razor from the bathroom and kicked him out. At the time, they’d been going out three months.

  Aurora’s pretty face contorted in horror. “You cannot be serious. I wouldn’t get back together with him if you paid me.”

  “Just checking.” Kennedy was more than a little relieved. Jake was a straight-up gold-digging brat. His looks might pull a girl in, but his lack of ambition would send her running in the other direction clutching her wallet and ATM card. She didn’t know how her friend put up with him for as long as she had. A guy could only leave his credit card at home so many times before he was washing dishes to settle the bill. Guaranteed, it would be the last time his trifling ass would “forget” it again.

  “Then what’s going on? Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

  Aurora’s shoulders rose and fell on a sigh. “It’s this thing with Nate, you know. I wish I could do more to help. Although I will say, the article out this morning is pretty positive. It makes a point to credit him for all the work the company does in underprivileged communities and gives him big props for the high school turnaround.”

  Seven years ago, Nate partnered with a high school in one of the most underfunded school districts in Brooklyn. He’d given millions to not only renovate the building inside and out, but funded a STEM program that had become the envy of public high schools in the five boroughs. In that time, the graduation rate went from 65 percent to a staggering 90 percent, 80 percent of which went on to college. And their college graduation gift from the company? A job offer. It was a win-win situation for the students, the company, and the high school.

  “That’s fantastic.” Things were already working out on the PR front. He might not need her for much longer, as long as the case didn’t go to trial.

  Then why didn’t the prospect fill her with joy? This was, after all, their goal. All that they’d hoped to accomplish. Falling for him again was not. And she had a feeling the likelihood of that happening was in direct correlation to the length of their charade.

  Kennedy hastily pushed the discomforting thoughts aside. “What about you? You working on anything new? Sign any new clients?” They usually got together twice a week to catch each other up on their respective client lists.

  “Funny you should ask. I just got a call that’s probably better suited for you,” Aurora said.

  “Oh yeah, what’s it about?”

  Appearing more at ease, Aurora reclined in her tan leather chair. “Joseph Russo, the senior producer at WNLE, has been suspended for telling a Black female reporter that she won’t be featured on air unless she changes her hair. He said his comments had nothing to do with her race.”

  “For the love of God,” Kennedy exclaimed, exasperated. “How hard is it for people to not say clearly racist and offensive things? I mean, seriously. Is that really asking too much?”

  A long breath whistled past Aurora’s lips. “Some habits are hard to break.”

  “Some habits should be smothered in their cradle at birth,” Kennedy muttered darkly. “Honestly, it has to be one of two things. Either it’s so second nature to them that they don’t believe what they’re saying is offensive, or they do and don’t care.” All her clients who ended up in a similar predicament swore up and down that it was the former, not the latter. Because of course.

  True, her reward was the hefty fee the agency charged, but her satisfaction came when the company was then compelled—some might say forced—to diversify. Potato, po-tah-to, the results were the same.

  “Viewers have threatened to boycott Rise and Shine if he isn’t fired.”

  “Not surprising,” Kennedy responded dryly. “This one isn’t going to be easy. A woman’s hair is her crowning glory. What was the hairstyle that triggered him?”

  “The reporter, Alexis Montgomery, came to work with her hair in braids. He told her to go home and fix it.”

  Kennedy snorted a laugh and then couldn’t stop laughing, tears filling her eyes. Once she finally caught her breath, she wheezed, “Fix it? Does he have any idea how long it takes to put those things in? She’d be lucky if it was a five-hour job.”

  “Honestly, white people,” Aurora mocked, with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.