"Please, call me Selena," she said, with the faintest Spanish accent. Selena Esteban was the Executive Director of The Friends of the Crown/Los Amigos de la Corona, an organization of Spanish nationals located in America who donated big bucks to advance the philanthropic mission of the Spanish royal family.
"And you can call me Justin," I said while pulling her chair out. She sat down and her summery, Carolina blue dress fanned out beneath her like a dancer. Her light brown hair cascaded to her shoulders. She was an older woman, but still pretty. I couldn't tell how old she was exactly, but her refinement suggested that she had a lot of experience dealing with people.
"I was so glad to receive your letter of introduction," she said, while sipping on her mineral water.
"It was my pleasure to re-introduce Magdalene House to you."
"Mm-hmm," she said. "Where did you go to school?"
"Syracuse. I'll be coming up on ten years very soon."
"The time flies, doesn't it?"
"It does."
"Must be tough being an Orangeman in a town full of Hoyas?"
I laughed.
"I tend to crawl in a hole and hide until basketball season is over. I can't stand the rivalry."
"Not a sports fan?"
"Not so much. I was always into computers and gaming."
"You honestly don't seem like a computer geek to me," she said matter-of-factly. I smiled.
"I'm part of the new generation," I said confidently. "We don't all look like Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerberg anymore."
"Thank goodness for that. I went to university back in Spain, when dinosaurs roamed the earth. Had I not been such a party girl, I would have married one of those quiet computer guys. They're all millionaires now."
"But how do they look?" I winked.
She laughed.
"I guess money can't buy handsomeness," she admitted.
Selena recommended everything that I ate that day: the house salad, the lobster bisque soup, and a jumbo lump crab cake to die for. We chitchatted the afternoon away, and I came to really like this charming, fun, and often irreverent woman who led one of the city's most prominent foundations. We never once even chatted about work, not directly at least.
"Justin?" she asked, as she slowly ate the thick and smooth Raspberry Charlotte from her fork.
"Yes?"
"I'm very interested in your development as a nonprofit leader. Washington has a wide array of local, national, and international service organizations. Frankly, very few of them inspire us. But you…your trajectory is interesting to me. You have no advanced education. You were a computer specialist. And for some reason, the Foundation for Community Justice handpicked you to lead."
I smiled and chose my words carefully.
"Magdalene House, prior to its reorganization, had a noble mission and decent programming. It also had pockets of talent embedded in a bureaucracy typical of a grassroots organization in this city. I feel very blessed that the Foundation selected not just a leader, but a team of people who legitimately care about Magdalene House to make it into what it was meant to be. And it breaks my heart that the old board and most of the old staff couldn't join us for the ride, but I believe even they would be happy with the direction we're heading."
"And you're quite confident you'll be able to take Magdalene House to new heights?"
"Selena, if I can be candid. My mission is to house every homeless woman in DC who is living with HIV. But it goes beyond housing. We're talking job skills. We're talking mental health. We are talking about taking the people the city have forgotten and giving them what they need to be leaders."
She nodded.
"The Friends of the Crown will help you in any way that we can."
I smiled.
"Thank you, Selena." I never knew that the majority of my job would literally be making friends. This was a piece of cake. Raspberry Charlotte, to be exact. Rather than talking business, we continued to chat about the most random topics. She insisted that she pay our bill and I insisted on paying the next time.
As we walked down the street after lunch, a car horn honked.
"Oh, I think that's your driver," Selena said. I laughed.
"I don't have a…" I began, looking into the luxury sedan parked near the restaurant. Victor was dressed in a suit and sunglasses, standing with the door open and waiting for me to get in.
"Oh yes," I said to Selena. "My driver."
"It's been so nice getting to know you, Justin! You're going to be a great executive director, I know it."
"Thank you so much, Selena. That means a lot to me. Will I see you next week at our grand re-opening?"
"Oh, you most certainly will! The entire staff will make a day of it!"
"Thank you so much. I'll see you there."
We embraced and said goodbye. Selena put on her sunglasses and walked down the street with the confidence of royalty.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Pearl?" I grinned.
"Just get in," he said. I complied, and he closed the door behind me. Once we got on the road toward the office, he began speaking.
"Justin, I'd like to talk to you for a moment." The lilt in his voice made the statement sound like both a question and a demand.
"Yeah?" I replied. I tried to pretend as he didn't frighten me, but he did. Not only had he once had his hand around my throat, but he was now technically one of my bosses.
"I don't like you," Victor began.
"Well thanks a lot," I said.
"No, listen. I didn't mean it like that. Well, I did. But what I want to add is that it's not your fault, exactly."
"Oh, okay. It's not my fault that you dislike me. Gotcha. Anything else?"
"Listen. The Razadi are solitary people. We don't often welcome people into our circle who are not fellow Razadi. It's dangerous to our way of life. And let's face it, Justin. Even if Dante were to stay with you for the rest of your life, you would wither away and die in what amounts to the twinkling of an eye to our kind. We stay to ourselves for our emotional health just as much as our physical safety."
"So you don't want me to be with Dante?"
"I don't care if you stay with Dante. I've had dozens of lovers over the years, women and men, who I'd give anything to see again. I understand. What I am telling you has nothing to do with you and Dante and everything to do with your place here, with us."
I crossed my legs and leaned back.
"I'm listening."
"Dante's got it in his head that he's supposed to be your bodyguard. And Uncle John wants you to lead Magdalene House. Fine. I'm cool with that. They're sold on you. But as for me, I need to see a little more."
"Like what?"
"Loyalty."
I exhaled.
"Victor, I don't know what I can do to prove my loyalty to you. I'm just a regular dude, you know? A regular dude in a crazy situation with a guy I really, really like. When it comes to Dante, I promise I'll treat him right. When it comes to your uncle and Magdalene House, I promise I'll do my very best to serve these clients. But when it comes to you, I don't know what you want from me. I've seen and heard a lot of wild shit as it is. All I can do is promise you that everything I have seen and heard stays with me all the way to the grave. I have nothing to gain by running my mouth and everything to lose. So, I mean, I don't know. What else can I say to you to prove I'm on your side?"
"There's nothing you can say. But there's something you can do."
"And that is?"
"You can't tell Dante anything I am about to tell you, but I want you to go on a reconnaissance mission for me."
"Reconnaissance? Who do you want me to spy on? That kid Farid?"
"No. Farid is on his own. Once a Djinn lays claim to a human, only the human himself can get out of it."
"So who then?"
"Nightwalkers."
"Nightwalkers?"
"Yes. Real vampires."
I stroked my goatee.
"Like the Razadi, vampires often divide th
emselves into smaller clans, but they are more formalized, like clubs. More like secret societies, actually. There are all these social rules and caste systems and specialized roles. Razadi, we're just laid back and observe deference. But vampires…it's like a complicated aristocracy."
"I see."
"The Djinn told us that vampires had our brother, Orlando."
"Why would they have him?"
"I don't know. Daywalkers and nightwalkers have a truce that's held up for a century. They don't bother us so we don't bother them. Hypothetically, Razadi would always have the upper hand. If they fucked with us, all we'd have to do is wait until daylight and we win. They either die in the sun or we discover their hiding places and stake them all to death."
"So why don't you?"
"We never had a reason to. And they never had a reason to come after us. There are only a few dozen Razadi and we keep to ourselves. But…"
"What?"
"It's possible that the nightwalkers took Orlando to try to learn why we can walk in the sun and they can't. We already know that they have him. We've got to find him and get him back before they kill him."
"And you're sure the vampires have him here in DC?"
"Yes. Djinn have no good reason to lie to a daywalker. If Morlas says the Anubis Society has our brother, then they probably do."
"So you want me to infiltrate the Anubis Society, stake the vampires, rescue Orlando, and bring him back?" I asked excitedly.
"No, stupid," Victor said, rolling his eyes. "I just want you to go to their mansion and scope it out. Pretend to drop off a package and get lost in their house. Take note of everything you see. Report back to me."
"This sounds hella dangerous."
"It could be. But it will be the daytime. The vampires can't hurt you then. It will probably just be some idiot rent-a-cop at a front desk who barely has a GED. Surely you can outwit somebody like that."
"Victor, why should I be the fall guy? You and Dante…you're stronger. You can actually fight a vampire."
"You want to know why, Justin? It's simple. You're not Razadi and I need to know that I can trust you anyway. That's all there is."
"And if I do this, you'll give me a break?"
"I'll be honest, man. This is about as nice as I get."
"You're nothing if not honest. Fuck it, I'll do it."
Victor nodded.
"I'm glad."
"But let's take it a step further…we can do better than just scoping out the house…"
A Dangerous Mission
"Thank you all so much for coming out today. I must confess that I am not a man of many words. In fact, I always considered myself to be fairly awkward. When I came to Magdalene House, I just wanted to use my computer skills in ways that made a difference in the community. Over the years, something happened that even I didn't expect: I fell in love with Magdalene House. What began as merely a job turned out to be a passion for serving others. The women and families that are served by this wonderful organization are forever changed for the better. We give them a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. And we've done that since the beginning of the HIV crisis, when the founders of this organization came together to assist those who had nothing and no one left to advocate for them."
I looked out into the crowd assembled on the grounds of Magdalene and saw dozens of people hanging on my every word. I'd never made a speech like this in my life. The words just flowed. Even though I'd practiced them, I still ad-libbed where I could.
This was my element now. The lawn of our modest building on Rhode Island Avenue had been perfectly manicured; the building itself had been freshly painted and all the windows washed of the grime that had accumulated over the years. Tables had been set up with plenty of refreshments for everyone, supplied by a local minority-owned caterer. I stepped back to the microphone to continue.
"Now, HIV is becoming an afterthought in our community. Because of advances in the treatment of the disease, our attention is focused on other things. But I am here to tell you that AIDS is still here and AIDS still kills—particularly the poor, particularly minorities, and particularly the members of the LGBT community.
"The Foundation for Community Justice has assumed responsibility for Magdalene House as it moves forward into a new phase of service, with a focus which expands dramatically. No longer will we just house and feed the families who come through our doors. No! We will be transforming their lives and giving them the tools they need for self-sufficiency. I am pleased to announce to all of you our newest program: The Women in Technology Initiative. From this point forward, any woman seeking training in technological careers will receive it at no cost. We have the staff. We have the support. Now, we need your help as our community partners to make those referrals to us. We want to discover the next great engineer or architect or designer. Magdalene will do that now! When you empower a woman, you change the world—and her HIV status will not be a barrier to that!"
The crowd around me erupted in applause and cheers. I was stunned. All I wanted was for Magdalene House to be great and now we were. At least, we were getting there.
Selena Esteban walked up to the porch and stood next to me. She quietly but assertively pushed me to the side as she took the microphone.
"I'm not sure that Mr. Kena was quite finished, but I just wanted to take this opportunity to respond to his challenge. The Friends of the Crown/Los Amigos de la Corona are pleased to announce our commitment to this most worthy initiative and we come bearing a check in the amount of $25,000 with a commitment for ongoing support!"
I was in shock. The crowd once again roared as Selena's assistant produced an oversized novelty check.
Cameras snapped all around me. I struggled to smile, but my mouth was still wide open, even as I held the huge check.
"I'm speechless," I said to Selena.
"He means 'thank you!'" Cissy chimed in.
"Yes, yes! Thank you!" I hugged Selena tightly and got misty-eyed. I couldn't continue at the microphone and asked Cissy to close.
"Thank you all so much for coming out to see us today. Please enjoy the refreshments and each other! And…we're just happy to be back! Tell your friends!"
I got so many congratulations as the event ended. I was sure to tell everyone that I had the greatest job on earth because all I have to do is let my team shine. And it was true. I really did have the best team that the Foundation could buy.
And I was also learning very directly that the more money you have, the more money you raise. The Friends of the Crown had little in common with us and I really never even thought I was near being able to make an "ask." But here we were, getting five figure gifts from them.
I was just a new, young executive director turning around a troubled organization. But they believed in me. They all believed in me.
I was finally becoming somebody that people respected.
"Congratulations," Victor whispered in my ear. "Now don't forget your other job."
"I gotchu," I said through my clenched-teeth smile.
~
Less than an hour after the close of our open house, I drove the van solo toward my destination. I had on a full brown uniform, a vase full of calla lilies, and a pocket full of magic to fulfill Victor's mission.
I drove the van down a long cul-de-sac on the edge of Rock Creek Park in Northwest DC. At the very end of the street, right against the woods, was a mansion. I couldn't believe a house so large actually existed in the city.
I got out of the van, collected the flowers and my clipboard, and walked up to the mansion. I prayed as I pressed the button on the intercom system.
"Yes?" the voice on the other end of the line said.
"Delivery man," I said.
The intercom buzzed and the door unlocked. I turned the knob and entered.
The foyer was exactly as I imagined it: covered in dark, mahogany paneling with old paintings on the walls and marble sculptures in the corners. Just feet away was a small security desk with a pud
gy, brown-skinned female security guard wearing a gray uniform.
"Hey, uh, I got a package for, uh, lemme see here…Nigel Artinian?"
"I can sign for it," the guard said.
"Mmm, I dunno. This says here 'for Nigel Artinian only.'"
"Sir, Mr. Artinian is not here during the day. All packages can be left with me."
"Well, I guess I can trust a pretty lady like you." She tried to squash a smile.
"So…you think I could get your number? Maybe call you up, go get some ice cream in Georgetown? Walk around the harbor?"
"I have a boyfriend."
"What's that got to do with me?"
"Everything, if he finds out you tryin' to holla at his woman."
"Aight, aight, my bad. Well, since I can't get your number, can I at least use your bathroom?"
"They really don't like people using…"
"Aww, come on, please? I haven't had a break in like four hours, you know I'm 'bout to bust. I mean, I could pull over and go out there in Rock Creek, but look at me. You think a civilized man like me ought to be relieving hisself on a tree? Nah, I ain't think so."
"Listen, the restroom is right there down the hall, past the dining room, before you get to the kitchen. Please don't take all day and please don't funk it up. I'm not trying to hear these peoples' mouths when I get off."
"I gotchu, boo. No worries."
I hurried down the hallway, glancing at each piece of art along the way. They were humongous European scenes of fox hunting and portraits of long-dead aristocrats. Things that people looked at but never touched.
The perfect places to plant the top-of-the-line remote listening devices that I'd convinced Victor to purchase.
I didn't have much time to act. In the restroom, I ran the water and locked the door. From my pocket I produced three tiny devices, smaller than dimes. They were sound-detecting bugs that would only activate once someone was speaking, and would transmit the data via satellite to a data cloud that only I would be able to access.
I flushed the toilet and pretended to wash my hands. I peeled the paper off the back of the bugs, exposing their adhesive, and prayed they wouldn't get stuck to my hand as I tried to complete the mission. I turned the light out in the bathroom and made my way down the hall again.
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