“I hope not.” She laughed as she directed him to the dining room table. “Set the bag here. The kitchen is cluttered with my supplies.”

  The dining room was to the left of the kitchen. Jeff glanced over at the kitchen counter. “You’ve got a lot of stuff over there. How many ingredients go into your hair grease?”

  Standing in her kitchen, Dana’s hand swept the length of the counter. “These aren’t only for the hair grease. I have shampoo and conditioner as well, remember?” Dana put her double boiler on the stove, turned the burner on, then began heating up her shea butter. She added sesame oil and olive oil to the mixture and stirred.

  She then pointed to the items she had put in the double boiler. “These are the items I use to make the hair grease.”

  “Sesame oil can be used to make hair grease?” His lips pursed together as he stood behind her, watching her stir the ingredients together.

  Dana turned the stove off and nodded. “Sesame oil reduces frizziness and prevents split ends.”

  “Learn something new every day,” he said while peeking over her shoulder at the mixture. “Is that all, or do you add anything else to the mixture?”

  “I let it cool for a little while, then I add lavender oil before putting the grease in jars.” She pointed to stacks of boxes toward the back of her kitchen. “The jars are in those boxes.”

  Jeff shook his head. “You need a factory and an assembly line. This is too much work to be doing in your kitchen.”

  Dana rubbed her hands together. “If you find an investor, I might be able to afford a factory.”

  Jeff took her hand and walked her over to the dining room table. “Let’s sit down and eat while your hair grease cools.”

  When he took her hand, she almost pulled back, as she got a flashback of Derrick holding her hand as they walked to the pizza parlor. But she exhaled and reminded herself she wasn’t that same girl. She sat down at the table with Jeff and enjoyed her shrimp fried rice right out of the container since Jeff had purchased two.

  “This is so good.” Dana savored the flavor of the shrimp mixed with the rice and soy sauce.

  Jeff tossed an egg roll over to her and then slid the hot mustard in her direction. “Now let me see if you can handle this.”

  Dana puffed out her chest. “Oh, you don’t think I can handle the hot mustard, huh? You must not know about me. I’m the hot food champ.” Dana pulled her egg roll out of the wrapping, dipped it in the hot mustard, and took a bite.

  As she chewed, Dana felt the rush of heat go straight to her head, then explode out of her nose. She blinked and then blinked again. “Whew! That stuff cleans out your sinuses.”

  “I know, but I love it.” Jeff dipped his egg roll in the hot mustard and took a bite. He then shook his head like it was on fire. “Oowee!”

  “No more for me. That’s a different kind of hot.” Dana pushed the hot mustard toward Jeff, and they both laughed. Dana finished eating her shrimp fried rice, then went back into the kitchen and poured a few squirts of lavender oil in the pot and stirred.

  Jeff closed his container and put it back in the bag. He got up and grabbed a box with the jars for the hair grease. “Where do you want these jars?”

  It felt to Dana like her mouth was glued shut. She never expected Jeff to offer to help her. No one had helped her with anything for as long as she could remember. She shook it off and pointed to the dining room table. “I normally fill them over there.”

  Jeff moved the few things on the dining room table, then opened the box and laid out the jars on the table. “Okay. What’s next?”

  “You really want to help?”

  “Absolutely,” Jeff said. “I truly believe I can connect you with an investor. By watching your process, it will help me see all the needs of your business, and then I’ll know which investor is best for you.”

  Dana nodded. “Makes sense.” She then pointed to other boxes. “If you really want to help, take the bottles out of those boxes. I’ll put the grease in the jars, and you can pour the shampoo into the bottles.”

  “Don’t trust me with the hair grease, huh?”

  Dana smiled. “It’s easier to pour the liquid into the bottles. Getting the hair grease in the jars takes a little more time.”

  “Okay. I’m down for whatever. Let me see your process.” He looked around the kitchen. “How long will it take to make the shampoo?”

  She pointed to the big soup pot on the counter to the left of the stove. “It’s done. Take the pot to the table.” Dana took her pot to the table, too, then grabbed the water pitcher and handed it to Jeff. “You’ll have to pour some of the shampoo from the pot into this pitcher so you can pour the liquid in the bottles.”

  They started working on filling the containers, then Jeff asked, “How long does it take you to fill your orders?”

  Scooping some of the solidified grease out of the pot with a spoon, Dana put the product into the jar. “I normally get about thirty to forty orders each week. And it takes about two to three weeks to fill my orders, depending on if my supplies are available when I order them.”

  Jeff held a bottle with his left hand as he poured the liquid into it from the pitcher in his right hand. “This shampoo smells nice.”

  “It’s the lavender and rosemary oils.”

  “How long have you been getting thirty to forty orders a week?”

  “About a year now. I have a lot of repeat customers.”

  Nodding, Jeff told her, “I think you’ve got a winner here. You have to find a way to streamline your processes and hire a marketing team to get your product in front of more people.”

  “That’s the dream,” Dana said.

  Jeff set the pitcher on the table and turned to her. “I’m serious, Dana. If you can deliver a business plan to me that shows how you can ramp up production, you’ll be a multimillionaire in a few years.”

  Dana had been filling the jars with hair grease, thinking no further than this moment, but when Jeff got serious, she realized this man believed in her. His words caused her to wonder what life would be like if her hard work finally paid off.

  She wanted to give herself permission to dream . . . to believe, but when Jeff left and she turned out the lights and went to bed, it wasn’t Jeff’s face she was seeing as he said, “You’ll be a multimillionaire in a few years.” It was Derrick’s.

  Derrick was sitting on the side of her bed, saying, “Girl, why you tripping? I’m ready for a big score, and you laying there sleeping.”

  “Leave me alone, Derrick. I don’t trust you.”

  “Hey.” Derrick put hands on her shoulders and sat her up in bed. “What’s this talk? It’s you and me, baby. I’m the best thing you’ve got going.”

  “No, you’re not. You never were!” she shouted at him.

  He shook his head. Stood up. “Get dressed. I told you I would get you out of here. Now stop trippin’ and help me with this score.”

  His back was to her as she stood up. “Don’t do it, Derrick. You’re going to get killed.”

  Slowly he turned toward her. As she stood facing him, she saw the blood running down his shirt. His eyes rolled back in his head and she screamed.

  Panting, Dana shot up in bed. Her chest was heaving as she looked around the room. She wasn’t eighteen anymore. She wasn’t being led around like a puppy in love anymore, and Derrick was dead.

  Chapter 13

  Lisa had two days left before she would officially be the director of operations at Liberty Advocates. She was excited about her new position. This was the same type of work Elsie Richardson, the woman who helped to revitalize Bed-Stuy in the sixties, had done. Lisa would now be working in the same building as the Bedford-Stuyvesant Renewal and Rehabilitation Corporation at Restoration Plaza.

  The plaza occupied a full city block and contained businesses, nonprofits, banks, and cultural venues. The building Lisa was going to work in had been purchased by Elsie Richardson and her business partner after their corporation received millions of dollars in grants from the government, with the support of Senators Robert Kennedy and Jacob Javits, to revitalize the neighborhood.

  Lisa would not be working for the Bedford-Stuyvesant Renewal and Rehabilitation Corporation as Elsie Richardson had, but she would be working for a nonprofit that leased several offices within the building. Still, this was the dream for Lisa. Instead of passing out checks and working with her clients at the county office to get their Medicaid in order, she was going to be responsible for helping the community residents rebuild their lives.

  “Mrs. Coleman, your two o’clock is here.” Her assistant handed her a case file.

  Lisa placed the file on her desk, then picked up a stack of papers from her desk and put them in her top drawer. “Send her in.”

  As the manager of her department, Lisa didn’t normally take appointments, but since she had only two more days on the job and she had already trained her replacement, she figured she’d make herself useful and take the load off the other caseworkers.

  Lisa opened the case file. The first thing she looked for was the name of the person she would be speaking with today. She thought it was important to show respect by addressing her clients formally. When Brianna Russell sat down in front of her, she greeted the woman with a smile and said, “Good morning, Ms. Russell. What brings you to the Department of Social Services today?”

  The woman’s shoulders lifted and then dropped as she let out a long-suffering sigh. “My Medicaid and food stamps got cut off again. My daughter has a doctor’s appointment next week, and I need to feed my kids.”

  Brianna’s attitude was at a seven at the moment, but Lisa knew it could quickly escalate to a ten if she didn’t handle this situation with care. She understood Brianna’s frustration. If Lisa’s child was hungry, she would do anything to feed her. Lisa glanced at the file and pulled out the letter they sent to Brianna two months ago. She showed it to her. “Did you receive this requalification letter from us?”

  Brianna quickly reviewed the letter, then handed it back to Lisa. “Yes, but I work. I don’t have time to come down here to keep reapplying for stuff I already applied for.”

  A common misconception people had about folks receiving government assistance was that they were lazy and didn’t work. But the truth was, it wasn’t a lack of employment but underemployment that was the problem. Many welfare recipients showed up to work every day and tried to get by on minimum wage. And there was no getting by when housing and food costs continued rising while income growth remained stagnant for the people in this community. “We understand you have to go to work, Ms. Russell, but we require information from you for continued services.”

  Brianna rolled her eyes. “Well, what do you need, because my child needs this doctor’s appointment, and I can’t afford to pay for her monthly prescriptions.”

  “All we need is your bank statements and your paycheck stubs for the last two months.”

  Brianna opened her purse and pulled out the documents requested. “I have to bring the same thing down here each and every time y’all make me reapply. I’m still making the same amount I made six months ago.” She handed the paperwork to Lisa.

  “I know this is a pain, but our hope is our clients one day find employment paying enough so you no longer need our assistance, which would be a good thing, right?”

  Brianna’s lips smacked together as she cut her eyes at Lisa once again. “You think I like coming down here groveling for the little bit of assistance I receive from the government? It’s not like y’all giving me a monthly check. All I’ve asked for is assistance with medical costs and food for my kids.”

  Lisa held up a hand. “I wasn’t trying to offend you. I do understand the circumstances of the people in our community with low-wage jobs.” She reached into her purse, took out the new business cards she’d received back from the printer, and handed one to Brianna.

  “I will be working for Liberty Advocates beginning next week. We help our clients with job skills so they can obtain better-paying jobs. If you are interested, give me a call at the number on this card.”

  Brianna’s eyebrow lifted as she looked at the card. She put it in her purse, then glanced back at Lisa. “You’re not like most of the caseworkers in this place. I mean, you act like you care.”

  “I do care, Ms. Russell. I want the best for you and your family, maybe not as much as you want it, but my desire for the people in our community to succeed is way up there.”

  Brianna nodded. “I’ll give you a call. But as far as my benefits, do you think I can get help?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Absolutely. I have your paperwork and will get your information into our system immediately. Have the doctor turn the insurance claim into Medicaid as normal.”

  “Awesome.” Brianna was smiling now. “And will you be able to reactivate my food assistance?”

  “I will take care of it today as well.”

  Lisa stood, shook Brianna’s hand, and walked with her to the door. As Brianna walked down the hall, Lisa was thankful she had been able to lighten a few of her worries. The next step would come when Brianna Russell upped her skill game and was then able to demand higher wages.

  Lisa was itching to get started with an agency that was doing more than handing out checks, insurance, and food assistance, but was instead giving a hand up in this world.

  Lisa took her coffee cup off her desk and headed to the break room before her next appointment at 3:00 p.m. It was going to be a long afternoon. She needed another jolt of java. After work, she had plans to meet John at the bank so they could see whether they qualified for enough of a loan to buy her father’s brownstone.

  She saw her coworker’s head peek out of the break room as she got closer. She waved at the woman, but her eyes got big as she waved back, and then she turned back into the break room.

  Strange, Lisa thought. She got along well with her coworkers. She wondered why Sue would turn away. But the moment she stepped into the break room her questions were answered.

  “Surprise!” everyone in the break room yelled at her.

  There was a cake on the table with the words We Will Miss You written on it. Jugs of fruit punch and chips were also on the table. Balloons floated around the room, some of them with the word Congratulations on them. Lisa beamed with joy as tears ran down her face. “You all did this for me?”

  “Of course we did. You might be a hard taskmaster, but we enjoy working with you,” one of her employees said.

  “And I have enjoyed working with all of you as well.” Lisa cut the cake, then they ate and laughed together until she had to go back to her office for her next appointment.

  A couple of hours later, after her last appointment of the day, Lisa was getting ready to pack it in when she noticed the message light blinking on her phone. She was about to listen to it when the telephone rang. The caller ID showed it was John.

  She picked up the phone. “Hey, hon. I’m packing up now. I should be able to meet you at the bank within an hour.”

  John said, “I just got off the phone with our lender at the bank, and things don’t look good.”

  Lisa frowned. It was her first frown all day. “What’s going on? We gave them all of our paperwork last week.”

  “Right,” he agreed. “But he ran our credit reports this morning, and it appears you have defaulted on a lease agreement and a few credit cards. Your credit rating is trashed.”

  Lisa glanced around the room as if she was looking for the person John was talking to. It couldn’t be her. “What lease? I don’t owe anyone.”

  “That’s what I told him, but he said we can’t move forward until we can get your credit file straightened out.”

  “This doesn’t make sense to me, John. Why would debt on a lease be on my credit file?” She didn’t understand it. The only credit she had was two credit cards, and she paid them on time every month. Knowing they wanted to buy a home someday, she and John had been saving for years. Their dream had obviously moved up in priority since they were planning to buy her childhood home.

  “We’ll figure it out. I’m going to order our credit reports so we can see everything on it.”

  “I didn’t do this, John. I swear I didn’t.” Another call beeped in. It was her new boss. “Let me call you back. I need to take this call.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you when you get home.”

  They hung up, and she accepted the call. She tried to clear her mind of the news her husband just gave her and put a smile on her face. Lisa believed people could see a smile, even over the phone. “Hi, Sam. This is a nice surprise. I didn’t think I’d be speaking to you until next week.”

  “I didn’t expect to be speaking with you today either,” Sam said.

  His voice sounded dry to Lisa. Not at all like the jovial guy she interviewed with a few months ago. “Don’t tell me you’re calling with an assignment already. You can’t wait until I arrive at work on Monday,” she joked.

  “HR left a message for you to call them, but I wanted to talk with you myself.”

  Something wasn’t right. Lisa was getting an uneasy feeling. “Is there something I need to know?”

  “Well, the thing is . . .” He paused for a moment, cleared his throat. “I was informed by HR you didn’t pass the background check.”

  Lisa’s head whiplashed. What was going on? Was she being punked? Wait. Today was April 1. People were playing April Fools’ Day jokes on her. Then she realized April 1 was on Saturday. Nobody was playing a joke on her. This was really happening. “There should be no reason on God’s green earth I can’t pass a background check.” She shook her head, trying to shake this moment away. This was not her reality. She had lived a good life, done right by others. “I’m no criminal. There shouldn’t be anything alarming in my background.”

  “It’s your credit file.”

  Her credit file? Hadn’t John said her credit file showed she had defaulted on a lease?

  “The way HR sees it, a person in debt to creditors cannot run a department where they have access to the grant money we receive. I’m sorry, Lisa, but we can’t hire you.”