“Regardless, it worked.” I offered a lopsided smile. “So, I want you to pitch me.”
“Pitch you,” she repeated, her eyes going wide.
“Do you always parrot when you’re nervous?”
Octavia shook her head. “No…sometimes.”
Her fingers shook. She picked at her nails. Theywere short and unpolished. Her knuckles were dark. When Octavia noticed me staring at them, she tugged her hands under the table. I sneaked a glance at December, who gave in with a low huff as she pulled out her pocket journal.
“I own a ranch,” Octavia started.
“So I’ve been told.” I interlaced my fingers, resting my hands on the table. “Tell me why you give a damn. Why did you drive all this way despite not believing a single thing about my profession?”
She swallowed. “I never thought I’d own land. I used to visit the town the ranch is in when I was a kid. And used to dream of staying. The moment I saw Elmwood up for auction, everything clicked. It was relatively affordable, and for the first time in my life, I felt lucky. The loan got approved, the house passed inspection, and I had enough left over to purchase a couple of horses.”
Her shoulders relaxed, sinking away from her neck. Octavia’s hands started moving as she spoke. For a moment, she seemed more likely to crack a smile. I watched her lips, the soft slopes of which would be delicate underneath my thumb. I blinked when she paused for a second. Clearing my throat after realizing the interruption was because her server had set a stack of blueberry pancakes in front of her.
I took a long drink from my cold water. It’d gotten hotter in here, more people filtering in from the convention. I tugged up my hood. Now that I was no longer in my tailored outfit, I blended in.
“Do you mind if…?” Octavia started cutting up her pancakes. “This is the first thing I’ve had since breakfast.”
“Go for it.” I nodded, but she’d already taken her first bite.
December nudged me under the table, herglare disapproving. She casually pushed her journal in my direction. Written in her tiny handwriting was,
We’re not letting her skip the line because you think she’s cute.
I rolled my eyes and flipped the journal face down. “What’s happening on your ranch?”
December kicked me this time, tapping her writing again in hopes I’d heed the warning. I grabbed her pen and quickly wrote,
stop it!
“Did my brother not say in his email?” Octavia drizzled syrup onto her pancakes. A bit of it got on her thumb, and she sucked it off. The only makeup she wore was a coat of red gloss. It’d faded since I saw her at my signing, the soft brown of her natural lips peeking through. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a second.
“I like to make sure a story’s straight before proceeding with the vetting process,” I said matter-of-factly. “I get you’re not convinced of my methods or the possibility of something outside of your logical scope existing.”
Her attention was mine again. Every sharp edge of it.
“There’s a line of people ahead and behind you who need help and will stand ten toes down in what they believe,” I continued. “The only reason I’m even considering bumping your job up is because I don’t enjoy seeing a woman who is as close to her dreams as you stop right when the finish line is around the corner. I don’t knowthe number, but I know Black women in your field are few. You deserve a fighting chance.”
Heaven knows I’ve been giving plenty of those.
Octavia set her fork down. Her mouth parted, but nothing came out.
“Do you have something to give to me that proves this isn’t some prank? Video evidence, audio recordings, police reports? I even take newspaper clippings.”
No matter how much I wanted this job, there was still a possibility that the Daniel siblings faked their case. One thing the Guild and my parents drilled into me was also to cross your t’s and dot your i’s before wasting mental energy and gas money.
Octavia sighed and reached for her bag. “I might have something.”
She pulled out an old, chunky camcorder with a viewfinder that poked out of the back. A crack marred its screen. It took a few tries for her to get the power on.
“How are we doing?” Our server appeared out of nowhere with a chipper tone and bright smile that was uncanny, given the ominous cloud Octavia’s video cast above us. Octavia jumped at the interruption, snapping the screen shut.
“Need any boxes?” the server asked, gesturing to Nico and Jonah’s half-full plates.
“Yes, please.” December nodded with her head down. She scribbled something in her journal, actual observations about Octavia this time.
