She’d come up against this crap ever since she told her high school guidance counselor that she wanted to study computer engineering. It didn’t matter that she’d had the grades to back it up, or that she once took apart and then reassembled an entire circuit board in science class. People made assumptions about her based on what theythoughtshe was—a black girl from inside the Loop in Houston who couldn’t possibly have the capacity to understand how microprocessors and custom integrated semiconductors worked.
She hadn’t allowed Mr. Sharp to attach his own labels to her back in high school and she’d be damned if she would allow some Internet blogger to do it right now. This situation with Craig wouldnotdefine her.
She authored her own narrative. No one else had the power to write it for her. It was time she take back control of her life story. If she was going to be known for something, let it be a kick-ass idea that helped to create some good in the world.
Like her app.
Thoughts of it had bugged her all week long, lurking around the edges of her brain. She’d become a pro at talking herself out of giving that long-held dream a passing thought. The fear of devoting precious resources to her app without a guarantee that it would be a success had stymied her for years.
Not this time. This time, that nagging voice wouldn’t be silenced. This time she would take her normal excuses—she was too busy at work, she didn’t have enough seed money, it wasn’t part of her master plan—and poke a hole through each one.
Because there were no more excuses. If she was serious about ever seeing her idea come to fruition, it was time she make it happen.
Samiah had to breathe through the tightness suddenly gripping her chest. Was she ready to take that leap? Was she really prepared to veer so far off course from the plans she’d set in place?
“What about Craig?”
Samiah jerked her head back, knocked out of her preoccupied musings by London’s question. “What about him?”
“Did he contact either of you since we last talked? Did any other creeps contact you?”
“Just some guy named Timothy,” Taylor said.
Samiah and London both nodded and simultaneously answered, “Me too.”
“After the fourth DM from Timothy I forwarded his name to the feds,” London said. “That shit is harassment.”
“Other than Timothy it’s just been your run-of-the-mill, ashy dick pics,” Taylor said with a shrug. “But that’s nothing new.” She added a heaping of nachos to her plate. “I have to be honest, ladies. I’m kinda bummed I didn’t talk to that news reporter. I would probably have had even more weirdos flooding my inbox, but can you imagine the new clients that exposure would have brought?”
“You know, Taylor, it’s okay if you call the news station back,” Samiah said. “You’re in an entirely different position than either me or London. Neither of us would fault you for using this situation to plug your business.”
“Absolutely,” London said.
Taylor waved them off. “I’m still not sure I’m ready for that. But I do have to admit that this disaster hasn’t been all bad for me.” She gestured to both of them. “I met you two.” She shook her head and huffed out a laugh. “It’s ridiculous that it took something like this to finally make new friends. Shit, there has to be an easier way, right?”
Samiah had just bitten into a mini empanada. She stopped chewing, barely registering the taste of the food. She had to think back to the conversations they’d shared this week to figure out whether she’d mentioned the idea for her app to either of them. But she knew she hadn’t. She’d never told anyone.
She’d encountered the same difficulties Taylor mentioned when it came to meeting new people when she’d first moved to Austin. After downloading every dating app known to man, the dearth of options available to help make platonic connections—other than broad social media sites like Facebook and Twitter—had stood out in stark relief. She’d come up with the idea for an app-based way for those moving to a new city to meet people who shared their same interests. There were several apps on the market with a similar concept, but her idea went a step further.
Not only would her app pair newcomers with like-minded people; it would also give businesses a way to create one-of-a-kind experiences for all these new friends to share. A wine bar could put together a special wine-tasting event specifically for lovers of wine from a particular region of France. Or a fitness guru, like Taylor, could create classes explicitly for single mothers who wanted to get healthy.
None of the social apps that constantly appeared in her phone’s App Store had the added element of allowing businesses to create the kind of in-person experiences she had in mind. It seemed like such a no-brainer, Samiah was still floored that another developer hadn’t put forth the idea.
It’s only a matter of time until they do.
Taylor slapped her palms on the table. “I cannot believe I forgot to tell you both this. The friend who sent me out on that date with Craig? She tried setting me up with another rando for this weekend!”
“And you didn’t punch her in the throat? How civil of you,” London said.
“I told her no more blind dates. Actually, no more dates. Period. At least for the foreseeable future. I have a business I’m trying to get off the ground. The video going viral gave me a boost, but the likelihood that any of those people will become long-term clients is slim. Once the ‘celebrity’ wears off,” she said, making air quotes, “I’ll be back to the client hunt.”
“Or theywillbecome long-term and you’ll have so many clients you won’t know how to manage them all.”
“I like your version better.” Taylor made pistol fingers at Samiah. “Either way, I need to focus on work.”
“And I’m the opposite,” London said. “I’ve spent too much time focused on my career and not enough on me. And when I say me, I meanme.” She pointed at her chest. “It’s not that I’m anti getting-a-man, but I’m tired of taking what little extra time I have and putting it into someone who turns out not to be worth the effort.”
“I hear you,” Samiah said.
