Walking into the coffee shop on the corner near the hotel where we were staying, it felt like stepping into being who I was meant to be. I had left Vegas and traveled to Paris and London. Now I was at a small café in New York, and something about it felt like home, like I was supposed to be the girl who sat in a café in New York working on my next story.
“What can I get you?” The barista taking my order skipped the pleasantries and got straight to business.
I smiled at the realization that I was actually in New York being greeted, or lack thereof, by a New Yorker. My life had at least come half a circle, if not a full one. Being a writer in New York made me feel like I had more than made it in life. I hadn’t traveled here for leisure. I was here to work. I was getting paid to travel to New York and write an article. For a girl like me, it didn’t get any better.
Photography was fun, and I’d taken to it because it was a huge part of being a journalist, but it wasn’t my end game. Being good at photography got me paid top dollar, but being the best writer I could be fulfilled me in ways I could never explain. Being a writer is what I was born to do.
I had been stuck to Rayla’s hip since college, and she had taught me everything she knew about running a magazine. I knew everything about media, interviewing, researching, and whatever else it took to be a talented journalist, but what I loved more than anything was the writing part of it. I spent countless hours staring at blank pages or working on drafts. I spent years thinking about being a published author, and for the first time in my life, I was in New York, the author capital of the world.
“Um, can I have a white mocha?”
“Sure thing. I’ll have it right out to you.”
This was the first day I did not have to hit the ground running. I was able to revel in a slow morning. Kareem and I had made it in late last night and checked into our rooms, which were always conveniently adjacent to each other. Nothing was pulling me from my bed this morning other than the excitement of being in a place I’d always wanted to see.
I got out of bed this morning and showered as fast as I could, slipping on the most comfortable jogger set I packed because not only would I be exploring New York, but I also planned to find the best writing places it had to offer. Although the tour hadn’t officially ended, today was the day I was putting the finishing touches on my article for Kareem and K&K Solutions.
I picked the booth all the way in the back and pulled out my laptop as I waited for the server to bring my drink. After the laptop was open, I glanced at the blank page that had been watching me since day one, then stood and took off my coat. I slung the coat over the back of my chair and placed my bag on the seat across from me.
It all felt so productive. Going through the motions of starting a writing session always excited me more than doing the work. The work always required more focus than the setup.
“Thank you.”
I smiled at the server as she handed me my drink, and surprisingly, she smiled back. I halfway expected the people here to be rude because that was what was always portrayed. Now that I was here, I would say they just minded their own business and had little time to waste on pleasantries, which didn’t mean a person is pleasant at all.
The café wasn’t packed, but a few people were scattered throughout. There was an older couple near the front door, smiling as they talked over their morning drinks. I loved the way the man blushed as his woman rubbed the back of hishead before touching his beard. He looked at her with so much adoration that I couldn’t help but look away.
People watching always reminded me of the things I didn’t have and the things I’d deprived myself of for the sake of work. Refocusing on work, I sat up straight and gathered my thoughts. Harping on all the things I’d missed out on wasn’t the reason I was here. I sat down to write an article, so it was best that I get to it.
I opened my laptop, took out my iPad, and a couple of note cards to jot down some information. I had actually been jotting things down on these note cards since the very first time I saw Kareem in that office in Vegas. With the note cards I had been using as scratch paper, pictures I’d been taking, and vision boards I’d created on my iPad, I had a clear picture of my story. I just needed to sit with what I already created before I could turn it into words.
We technically wouldn’t be done with the tour until we wrapped here, but I already had enough. I would focus the article not on him closing a deal that anyone would have been excited about but on him walking away from it. Kareem’s choice of morals, values, and the need to put soldiers first was the story. It was the most powerful spin I could put on any story, and it just so happened to be the truth.
Kareem’s act of defiance was enough to sell the world on K&K Solutions. What people loved more than a success story was a person who was not willing to sell their soul for that success. Kareem was proving that he couldn’t be bought. In a country where almost everyone had a price tag, it was nice to witness those who didn’t.
I took a sip of my drink and got to typing. The words flowed like water. It was funny how easy it was to write when you were writing something you truly believed in. I believed in Kareemand what he wanted his company to be. My job now was to make sure everyone who read this article believed the same thing.
I spent aboutthree hours in that café before I had something that resembled the article I wanted to present. Of course, it would have to go through a couple of rounds of edits, but I got everything I wanted to say out. What I had was more than I could have ever written about Kareem sitting down to ink a billion-dollar deal that he didn’t feel comfortable with. Not only was it more, but it was also better.
I was as satisfied with this draft as I was ever going to get, so I packed up my things and headed out the door. There was still so much of New York I wanted to see, and I wasn’t going to be able to do what stuck in a single café. I adjusted my bag on my shoulder before I turned the corner.
Just around the next corner was a bench, and since being here, I had so many thoughts about my future swirling in my head that I took a seat to write them all down. I pulled out my manifestation journal and wrote everything I saw for myself in the next five years. Sitting there in New York made all the dreams I had for myself leap from my head and land perfectly on the pages of my journal.
I was a believer that whatever you wrote down would eventually come true. Writing my dream life on paper made it feel real, like I could actually accomplish everything that was written.
Chapter
Eighteen
Kareem
Going out for the day. I’ll be back before your meeting this afternoon.
-Karina
I picked up the note that Karina had slid under my door and chuckled at the smile she drew at the end of her message. It was funny that she’d left me a handwritten note instead of shooting a text. It explained everything she was in one small gesture.
Karina was a writer before anything else, so putting pen to paper felt more natural than typing what she wanted to say into her phone. It also gave the message a special touch. I appreciated that.
