PROLOGUE
PRESS PLAY
My head moved slightly as I captured every detail of the jazz drums, horns, piano, and sax sounds coming through my speakers. The sweet, soft melody reminded me of a time when Black love and power lived through everything we’d done over the centuries. I gently placed the freshly baked sweet potato pie on the table to complete my holiday spread. You would have thought I was feeding a family spanning many generations, but it was simply me, my nephew, and his mother who had come into town to visit. Since my brother’s passing, I had taken on the weight of caring for his son. Although my nephew’s mother was still living, her love for music was more important, so I stepped in, providing him with all the love and support he needed. Somehow, I forgot that I also deserved a love to call my own. Now, this was what the holidays looked like for me.
Over the years, I had tried dating, searching high and low for a forever partner, but at my age, it seemed impossible, so I had given up and devoted all my time to my job. Toussaint State University was like my baby. I knew the school inside and out. I’d watched dean after dean come in and out, declaring intentions to restore the school’s integrity, but with every dean, things had somehow gotten worse. Especially when Clark Mercier took over. I figured because he was known to be so prestigious, he would do right by the school, but Clark was a house nigga draped in fine clothing. The first day he stepped on campus, I knew he was a devil in disguise. His mouth reeked of lies, greed, and power.
My house phone rang, scaring me. I let out a light laugh as I glanced at it. I was probably the only one in this day and age who still had one. In my eyes, why fix what wasn’t broken? House phones gave people less access. You couldn’t be questioned about where you were because the phone stayed in one place. I wiped my hands on my apron as I made my way toward the phone. I picked it up and greeted whoever was on the other end. “Happy Holidays!”
“Good evening. May I speak with Ms. August?”
“Speaking.”
The person cleared their throat before proceeding, “Ah, Ms. August, thank you for taking my call. I know it’s the holidays, and I’m sorry to disturb your family event. However, I just got some news that the board and I have been going over for the last two hours. It seems that Clark Mercier will be on an extended leave due to personal reasons,” he paused.
My hand gripped the phone tighter, as I wasn’t sure where this conversation was leading. “Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Yes, everything is fine. We haven’t been able to find an active dean to take his place, as Toussaint State has become people’s least favorite place. We do, however, know that your time with the university has been extensive—”
A bright smile crept onto my face. “Yes, I am a proud member of the Gray and Gold, and—”
“We know your history. Seeing that you are dedicated to the school’s mission, we are offering you not only the pay but the position as active dean until the return of Mr. Mercier.”
An overwhelming feeling of happiness washed over me. It had been forty years since I started my first internship right after graduation in 1982, and I was finally seeing my dream come to fruition. I accepted the offer with the thrill of starting as the active dean in only a few weeks. The spring semester was my time to show the board that I was just as capable as every male dean who had walked through those doors. The belief that Black excellence lay only in the hands of men was the reason the school had deteriorated over the years. Black excellence applied wholly to the Black culture. It wasn’t just about being a star or having the perfect GPA, but also about the growing pains. It was about what made us successful or better people in general. It was about breaking generational curses and proving to yourself that excellence lay within you. Ultimately, this was my chance to pull that out of each student who graced the school’s yard.
Once off the phone, I removed my apron as the sound of tires against pavement alerted me to a car pulling in the driveway. I knew it was my nephew. The small chatter between him and his mother crept from beneath the front door. When it opened, I stood there with a smile on my face.
“Well, hello,” I said cheerfully.
“Cecily,” Toni said dryly.
I knew she had never cared much for me, but she respected my brother enough not to disrespect me while he was alive. Now that he was no longer on this earth, that had gone out the window.
“It smells good as hell auntie,” my nephew Jesaiah said as he came over to embrace me in a hug.
“Boy, you’re over here every other weekend. You know your auntie can get down in the kitchen.”
My eyes landed on Toni as her eyes scanned my home. “I see hasn’t much changed, but I do agree it smells good. Jesaiah, can you grab the last bag out of the car, please?”
Jesaiah didn’t see much of his mother. I could count on my hands how often she had come to visit him. She replaced love with money, and over the years, it had done something to him. Around me, he was the perfect gentleman, but from what I’d heard around campus, he wasn’t as gentle as I thought him to be.
He hurried outside just as his mother requested. Toni turned to me with a smirk. “How is he doing? How is college treating him?”
I stepped closer, holding the same smirk she held on to her face. “Have you asked him? Maybe if you saw him more often, you would know.”
“Hmph, I take care of my child.”
“I never said you didn’t. What I said, Toni, was have you asked him? There is more to parenting than giving them money. That boy is grown, in college, and the guidance he needs cannot just come from me.”
She scoffed. “So, now you’re the parent.”
“I am. I have been since my brother—”
Her eyes widened as if I had told a lie. “I told him I could pay for him to go to a better school than an HBCU. A place where the education is bigger than being Black.”
“It’s not the HBCU that’s the problem, rather—”
Jesaiah came flying in the door and dropped the bag onto the floor. He glanced between his mother and me curiously. “Everything straight in here?”
