Najee cleared the emotions bubbling in his throat. He’d made it his mission to give back to shelters and anonymously donate money for a reason he prayed he never had to relive or share.
“My mama didn’t make it out of her situation, but she made sure my sister and I did. She had finally gotten back on her feet some with a new job, and things were looking up. She was getting off work and was supposed to meet us at my aunt’s house. We were staying with her until our new apartment was ready to move into at the end of the week.
Somehow, her boyfriend found out where she worked, and while she was waiting at the bus stop, he pulled up on her. A few witnesses said they got into an argument, and he ended up shooting and killing her right there in broad daylight. The messed-up thing about it all was that we had just talked to her minutes before.”
“Damn, man. I hate to hear how that played out,” Luke said with a heavy heart. “My condolences.”
No matter how many stories he heard, they never got easier to listen to.
“Yeah... I am, too. But that’s one of the main reasons I started my business. I saw a need for reliable transportation in my city and wanted to do more with it. If I can save one life, it’ll all be worth it. It saved mine from the streets.”
It was a different kind of war when you were free. Najee lived the battle firsthand and witnessed it within his community. A woman in a shelter and a man fresh out a jail both had to rebuildthemselves from scratch, strip away survival tactics, and the labels society tried pinning to them. The process could be lonely and triggering.
Trust became a foreign language, and every act of kindness felt suspicious. The trauma, though in different settings, showed up the same. Guarded hearts, restless nights, the yearning for safety, and the hopefulness of not being judged.
Society tends to look down on a woman in a shelter just like it side-eyes a man on parole. People with no knowledge of what they’d gone through expected them to be grateful for the bare minimum while offering little support in return. If he could, Najee wanted to change that with one resource. One ride could be someone’s light at the end of a dark tunnel.
Luke didn’t need to hear anymore. Coming from the streets himself, he knew what it was like to make it out, and it hadn’t been easy.
“And it’ll save many more,” Luke said, smiling. “That’s why we opened Peace Haven. My wife’s sister was murdered by her child’s father back in the early 2000s. Her mission was something just like yours, and that’s what it is for the shelter.”
“What’s that?” Najee asked.
“To break the cycle of domestic violence by providing a safe space. Not just somewhere for women to rest their heads, but to get support and empower them, too. It doesn’t matter if you’re at your lowest. Everyone deserves to live a life free of abuse and fear.”
Najee nodded. “Absolutely. Sadly, these types of situations aren’t going to stop.”
“But we can try our best to limit them.” Luke nodded, and stood up.
Najee did the same, straightening his shoulders as he offered his hand.
“I’m going with a yes to this partnership. We can iron out specific details later, but it’s sealed on my end.”
Najee shook his outstretched hand. “That’s a bet. I appreciate you, man. You won’t regret it.”
“I know I won’t.” Luke smirked. “Now, we just have to pitch the idea to my wife and the board of directors.”
“Tough crowd to please?” Najee wanted to know.
Luke chuckled. “Not necessarily, but they want to have the client’s best, safest interest at heart. We all do.”
Nodding, Najee knew it wouldn’t be hard to get them on board. He hadn’t jumped headfirst into pitching his idea without studying first. Plus, it wasn’t about exposure or money for him. He was doing this from the heart... for his heart. Candice’s name would forever live on thanks to him.
“I think I spoke with your wife when I first reached out,” Najee divulged.
“I’m sure you did. She’s so hands-on with everything. What was she doing answering the main office line anyway?” Luke chuckled, shaking his head.
“Aye. A boss wears all the hats in their business.”
“Oh, I know. You don’t have to tell me. I’ma let you get out of here but let me see if she’s still on her tour. You can follow me.”
They exited the office, stepping into a larger conference area with office doors on each side. Heading toward the steps, they descended two flights and stopped at a set of double doors. The label read auditorium, but Najee didn’t need to see it to know that’s what it was. He immediately recognized the powerful voice coming from behind those doors. It made him stop in his tracks.
Luke looked back. “You good?”
Najee nodded, and he pushed the doors open. Orielle’s honeyed vocals echoed throughout the massive space, floating right to where he stood. Her voice was undeniably smooth. The kind that pulled emotions out of you before you knew whatwas happening. She stood in front of a small crowd of people, whom he assumed were the staff. They were receiving front row excellence and a cappella at that.
Orielle was raw with it. Effortlessly, the soft tremble of her voice poured from the speakers as she sang one of her favorite songs by JoJo. She’d been told more than once that she sounded like a mashup of her, Brandy, Alex Isley, and Tori Kelly. That was the highest of compliments, considering their range and talent. But Orielle had her own unique sound. She could alternate her voice with beautiful ease.
