“Told you, we need some good people who are vested in this community. Everyone is looking forward to your bakery. When Mrs. Vanessa from VC’s Winery and Book Boutique came by to welcome you the first day you popped up, she made it her business to let everyone know that you were good people.”
“And everyone buys into whatever Mrs. Vanessa says?”
“They do. She’s good people, and she’s like the mother of the rest of the business owners around here. She’s down-to-earth, youthful, fun, warm, and nurturing, but she’s full of wisdom and positive energy.”
“Yeah, I got that vibe from her when I met her.”
“Right. So, we definitely want people like you around.”
“I’m glad to know that I’m welcome, though she’s the only one who dropped by.”
“That’s because everyone has been so busy, but we all have plans to come through to support you on your launch party day.”
I had sent out invitations to plenty of people in the community, including every business owner on the street, for my launch party.
I glanced at my watch again. “I have some people coming. I need to get back to the shop.”
“That’s cool. I hope to see you again soon—before your launch party,” Harlem declared.
“As long as you don’t threaten anyone else, we should be good,” I teased as we walked to the door.
He paused on the sidewalk before I crossed the street. “Maybe you need someone to burn the world down behind you too.”
I felt good as hell as I sashayed across the street. Yeah, maybe I did need someone who would burn the world down behind me. I would like that a lot.
6
HARLEM
VOLUNTEERISM
“Iain’t gon’ hold ya. I wasn’t anything like the man you see here today. No, I didn’t come from the hood, but my daddy did, and so did several of my friends. I balled with hood niggas, ran with hood niggas, fought with hood niggas, and smoked with hood niggas. Looking back on that time, I know some of them was just around because I was the only nigga with a decent car and money.
“That got me into some trouble I wasn’t sure how I was gonna get out of. I was grown; my parents weren’t going to help me out. My grandaddy made me do odd jobs for him to get paid. My whole head was fucked up when I got evicted because I couldn’t pay my bills, and my parents refused to do it.
“That’s when I realized that I wasn’t nothing more than a spoiled, entitled rich kid, only I wasn’t rich. That was my parents’ and grandfather’s money, not mine. I had to get out there and make it on my own, and I wasn’t sure how I would do it. I worked my ass off for my grandfather doing all types of jobs, saving my money, and I didn’t have a social life during that time.It was all good, though, because it gave me time to clear my head and reorganize my thinking.”
“How did you end up owning the barber shop you have now?” Quintavious, one of the kids in the mentoring group, asked.
“The hard work that I had done for my grandfather paid off in more ways than one. I had enough money saved to put a down payment on a lease and get a little equipment, but not all of it. My grandfather knew what I had inside of me, just like we see what’s in each of you. He decided to invest in me, only after I had proved myself to him for three years straight.”
“What about the real estate you have?” August Malone, another mentor, asked. He and my mentee, Hollis Grove, knew my story, but he was highlighting parts for the kids’ benefit.
“I worked my ass off some more that first year of opening. After I had saved enough money, halfway through my second year, I brought a foreclosed property, worked with my best friend during our off hours, and flipped it. I sold it, and I gave him some money to invest in another house. At that point, my granddad was dying. He was impressed with how I had turned my life around.
“He gave me some more property. ‘For whoever has will be given more, and they will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what they have will be taken from them.’ That’s?—”
“Matthew 25:29,” Hollis stated, crossing his arms.
He wore a frown like it was his God-given right, and his arms were crossed defiantly over his chest. Thick lips were pushed out in an angry pout.
“That’s right. When I had nothing, the little that I did have was taken away because I did not appreciate it and use my resources wisely. When I worked hard to earn a little something, I was given more. Now I have an abundance, and I don’t take that shit lightly either. Point is, I worked hard to get to where Iam. It’s easy to screw up and fall; it’s not so easy to pull yourself back up and put yourself together, but you guys have what it takes. The fact that y’all are sitting in this room with me speaks to that,” I declared, looking around at the seven faces in the room with August and me.
I was a volunteer at the James L. Bigham Community & Outreach Center. The work that I did here was just as important as the work that I did everywhere else, if not more so.
When August finished his spiel after mine, I pulled Hollis to the side.
“How’s things going with your pops and Everett?” I asked. His father was a single dad, taking care of his sons who were thirteen and seventeen, and Hollis was the oldest. Their mother had passed away from complications of pneumonia during the height of COVID.
