Joy gave her another big hug.
“But it better be worth it! That’s all I got to say.”
“It will be,” Joy said. “Mark my words. It will be.”
But even as Contessa finished her sandwich and then left the breakroom, Joy hung around a moment longer to look at that card again. And run her fingers across it again.
But then the door to the break room flew open. It was the manager. “Netta, if you don’t get your narrow behind back at your station!”
“Yes ma’am,” Joy said happily. “I’m already on it!” she added as she pocketed her precious card and hurried to pay his bill.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When William walked out of Maylene’s and headed to his Jetta, Maximus Bluff, the chief of security for his entire corporation, was leaning against the driver side door with his big arms folded. William couldn’t believe it. “Didn’t I tell you and Bobby that I decide when I will or will not have security around me?”
“Nobody knew where you were, sir.”
“Bullshit! Sloane knew. I told her so.”
“Okay, we knew you were going to drive. But we just wanted to make sure that you’re okay.”
“As you can see I’m absolutely okay.”
“And.”
“And what?”
“And to escort you into Chicago.”
William shook his head and pointed at Max. “Your ass work for me. You do realize that, don’t you?”
“Absolutely sir.”
“Then what’s your problem?”
Max didn’t want to go there, but he knew he had to. “Last year, sir,” he said. “We feel we failed you. We can’t let that happen again.”
William stared at the man that had been his security chief for over a decade. And he exhaled. William lost his daughter that day, but Max lost an entire detail that day. It was hell for him too. “They’d better keep their distance from me,” William ordered.
“They will, sir,” Max said with relief as he opened the door for his boss and William got in and drove away.
Max motioned to one of two security cars further back in that parking lot, and they took off behind William. The second car picked up Max, and then that car followed the boss on in too.
CHAPTER NINE
That Tuesday morning, after a three-hour bus ride from Bridell, Indiana, Joy walked into the massive lobby of Skeffington PR in downtown Chicago and maneuvered around all of the hundreds of well-dressed bodies coming and going or just holding conversations in the middle of what she saw as the gorgeous marbled floor.
Joy was well-dressed too: She wore a baby-blue, above-the-knee skirt suit and heels, an outfit she wore to church on Sundays, with her little white clutch under her arms and a blue and white scarf around her neck. Her hair was down, in flows of curls she hot-curled herself early that morning, and her makeup was purposely bland. She was determined to get a job she didn’t even know the title of, and she was determined to make them hire her. She was just that ready.
But when she got up to the reception desk and the black man behind the desk didn’t even bother to look at her smiling face, but remained focused on his computer screen, she steeled herself. This was the big leagues. This was that concrete jungle. You had to have thick skin.
Although every face she saw in that place was white, at least the receptionist was black like her and looked to be right around her age too. Which gave them something in common. “Good morning,” she said to him.
The receptionist finally looked up. But he looked up annoyed. “Yes? May I help you?”
“Sorry to bother you, even though you are the receptionist, but my name is Joynetta Johnson and I’m here to see Mr. William.”
“Mr. Williams?”
