by Xyla Turner
The next week, I was executing my daily tasks at the coffee shop when I saw Mr. West walk inside the store. He did not acknowledge me, but walked straight to the back, which was passed me and there he was greeted by the store owner standing in his doorway. I had a bad feeling about this. An hour later, Mr. West emerged and then I heard my name being called into the office. This meant my co-worker, Tracy, would cover me, but what the hell. The man that previously denied me my goal in life walked out and again, did not say one word.
“Hey Dakota,” Simon, the founder and President of Beans-N-Things, greeted me.
He shifted uncomfortably in his mint, leather green chair that creaked under his weight.
He was a round man, who had expensive taste in coffee and clothes. His roundness did not stop him from looking his best. He was not in the shop all the time, but when he was there, he was out there with us, working. I could respect that.
“Listen, this is pretty unorthodox, but I’m going to have to let you go,” he came right out and said it.
“What?” I exclaimed as my eyelids went up and down while processing what I was hearing.
“I’m going to have to let you go. Today’s going to be your last day and I’ll give you two weeks’ severance with forty hours a week,” he confirmed.
“What did I do?” I felt the anger coming to the forefront. “I’ve done nothing but been an ideal employee.”
He nodded and said, “You’re right. From the sound of it, you are a talent that is hiding. There’s a job of a lifetime that is on the table and as an entrepreneur that has stood to fight the Starbucks bandwagon and won, I know what it means to have your own business. I encourage it. So, this place won’t be what stands in your way.”
I began to growl as I realized that Mr. West was the culprit behind this. What drug was this man on, that he was getting me fired and what the fuck did he say? No amount of pleading led Simon to change his mind. There had to have been some money exchanged. Like, what the hell?
That was my last day and as soon as I arrived home, I snatched one of the asshole’s cards from the top of the fireplace and called Mr. Jonah West on his personal line.
“Hello?” he answered on the first ring. “Dakota?”
“Yes, you son of a bitch.” I started going at him. “You got me fired. You are blackmailing me. Why the fuck would you do that? How dare you? It’s not your job. It’s not your fault. Leave me the fuck alone and stay out of my life!”
I finally took a breath, thinking he would surely hang up, but I should have known Mr. West. He was not easily deterred or ruffled.
“There she goes,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Be in my office tomorrow at nine. I will have your offer ready and know that you have the best consultants for your products. You can meet with the team tomorrow.”
What?
“Mr. West…” I began with a more contrite tone, but he cut me off.
“Don’t,” he said. “Just show up and don’t make me have to wait another two years before I find you again.”
There were no more words -- just dead air. He had hung up the phone. My chest began to beat faster than normal, then I decided to have a seat. This was not happening. Taking three deep breaths, I was able to inhale the potpourri that lingered over the fireplace. Oddly enough, I never smelled the fragrance, but at that moment, it filled my nostrils, causing a sensation of calm to come over me. Ella was the one that put it there. Her rationale was that if the fireplace was real and we used it, then the fragrance would fill the small apartment.
She was such a good and thoughtful daughter—more than I could have asked for and definitely more than I deserved. My entire life, I’d been so selfish, just focused on my own ambition. That was when she came and changed everything. Even after the rejection of the show and West’s no, I tried to get Skin for Her up and going. Still, I kept running into obstacles after obstacles. It was not working out and then my belly began to show more and more. This limited my opportunities and truthfully, began to eat away at my confidence.
Sissy had long kicked me out, as I knew she would, so I had to start changing my lifestyle at that point. I slept on a few friend’s couches for a couple of weeks, as well as got jobs that would allow me to make ends meet, save some money and got on welfare.
The issue with housing in South Dakota was that the waiting list was almost two years old. Yet, when I was in New York, I met a few of the other contestants, who shared some stories on how they made ends meet. Taking some of their advice, I looked to find a place in the northern state, that either sub-leased or had renters looking for a roommate. I found a couple in the Bronx, where I shared my situation, and they basically did not care, but just wanted me to pay the rent. I assured them that I could, then I found a job doing secretary work and was able to make the move out of South Dakota.
The city that never sleeps was easily accessible, did not require a car, and I was receiving a check and food stamps almost within thirty days. Not only could I pay the rent, but because I had a sublease, my landlords received a check on my behalf. It was seriously the best decision, because after a few months, I was able to save for my own apartment and pay for the next three months. This was primarily because I knew, once I had the baby, it would require me to be homebound for a short time.
The people I rented the room from helped by buying me a stroller and bassinet. Once I was able to get more money, I moved out to my own apartment in Brooklyn, past Church Avenue, which was on the opposite side of the Bronx. Then two years ago, we were able to move to Bed Stuy and though the apartment was right under the train station, it was clean, cheap and rent-controlled. My life was centered around Ella, surviving and living our lives the best we could.
I had not looked back to the time when Skin for Her was my priority, but now that this asshole was forcing me to face it, it set off an alarm in me. What was I doing with my life? What had I become? I had dreams, goals, visions and I was working at a coffee shop, which was honest work, but not something I wanted to do. It wasn’t beneath me; it just wasn’t for me.
By the time the school bus dropped Ella off, I had dinner prepared. We went over our nightly routines of reciting the vocabulary words and definitions for the week. This including reading, eating and watching forty-five minutes of television before she took her bath. When she laid down, I shared that I would be checking out another job tomorrow.
“What kind of job?” she asked with a yawn.
“It’s something I used to do before you were born. Body and skincare.”
“As long as it makes you smile,” she yawned again and turned over. “Night, mommy.”
“Night, baby,” I whispered and tucked her in.
The little girl was so on point. My goal of bringing quality beauty products to women, was definitely something that made me smile. It was everything. It was one of my many dreams.
5
Jonah West
There was a certain amount of patience that I had, as well as restraint. I was a hard-ass and anything I wanted; I would acquire. To be the type of investor that I was, I had to be above cutting edge and see things that others were not privy too.
Dakota Bowers was no different. This is what I told myself as I sat in my office, waiting for my assistant to tell me that she would be coming up soon. It was seven-thirty, but I was unnecessarily anxious for her to be here as I laid out in our phone call the day before. The lengths I went to get her to this point, well, that was extreme. She seemed pissed that I got her fired, which I did. That maneuver came with a contract, where it was agreed that Innovate, Period & Innovate, Period+ would use the coffee shop’s products. At least for the rest of the year for all events, with a minimum of once a month. My company always had events, that lasted all day, so we were bound to get breakfast and have coffee throughout the day. No owner would turn down a corporate contract, so it was easy to convince the founder to fire Dakota. Well, lay her off for an opportunity of a lifetime.
The question I refused to a
nswer was why. I saw people squander away their potential all the time, but why all the effort for Dakota Bowers.
That question was answered, though I ignored it, when she came through my doors at 9:00 AM, with a puffy ponytail, teardrop earrings, a skirt suit on, with a white shirt underneath and a silver necklace. Those hazel eyes were on me, but there was a sparkle, a pull, and my lungs seized as her presence impacted the organ.
I would be the first to note that she was my favorite of the contestants. She was excited, enthusiastic, and committed to her project. She put her head down, didn’t get caught up in other people’s drama and did what she was supposed to do. She was arrogant, yes, but I understood it. She could count on her work ethic, because nobody would beat her working. She just needed something…
“Mr. West,” she greeted me.
“Ms. Bowers,” I nodded as I stood and came around the desk. “Glad to see you.”
She said nothing, but just stared back at me. “So, should we get down to business?” I asked her, while standing two feet away.
“I am ready for my presentation,” she nodded and had a folder in her hand.
Extending my arm towards the sofa in the center of my office, I said, “Please sit.”
She obeyed and I sat on the chair facing the table that was between the two of us.
“I don’t need you to present,” I told her. “I am well-versed with your project unless you’ve made changes. Have you?”
“No, it’s the same with minor tweaks,” she replied.
She began to tell me what those were, and she was right; they were very minor.
“This is not a deal breaker, Dakota, but I still maintain that your product is geared towards women of color,” I said.
She nodded and said, “Black women.”
“You still stand by this?” I asked.
“Mr. West, women of color, struggle to find products that are just for them. There are all types of natural projects for people that do not look like me. I want to gear my marketing towards this group.”
I picked up the folder on the magazine table and slid it to her. “There are some figures on how much money women pay for beauty products, broken down by ethnicities, income, and education. This is what I wanted you to bring to the table, when deciding for people to invest.” She shifted in her seat, so I interjected, “This is not a dig, Dakota. I just want you to see the numbers. You are a businesswoman and you have to think in that vein. Gearing your marketing to women of color is fine, but I would really implore you to think of expanding. Not because your mission isn’t noble. However, there are women all over, of all colors that could use and would love your product. Honestly, from an entrepreneur’s standpoint, I think you’re leaving money on the table.”
She picked up the folder, looked through the numbers I had the data team put together; which clearly showed that women of color spent an exuberant amount of money on beauty supplies and skincare. However, so did other women of various ethnicities. I knew the data backed up my points, but I also would do what she wanted, because her product needed to get out there.
After a while, she closed the folder and placed it back on the table. Her eyes hit mine, then she asked, “What do you get out of this? Why all of the extra, this job and constantly giving me your card. What is in it for you?”
Dakota was a straight-shooter and so was I. It’s one reason why she stood out to me as one of the contestants.
“I’m a businessman, Dakota,” I told her. “One, I get money. Two, I would be the first one in on this cutting-edge project and three, I’d be a part of history in the making.” I thought I was done, but then I added, “Four, I believe in you.”
This caused her head to tilt slightly to the side, as her eyes squinted at me, like she was trying to read me or decipher if there was something else. I opened myself up to let her read me, and then I stood to give her the contract.
“Whether you go with my suggestion or not, I will back your company. As I mentioned yesterday, I already hired a team to help with your project, and I can provide you with a mentor to help guide you to make this go…”
“Wait,” she shook her head. “I thought you would mentor me.”
What?
It was my turn to give her the tilted look. Fuck, I didn’t realize that was something she wanted.
“Well, I have other mentors, that have been through my program. I do not always mentor.” She went to speak, but I kept talking. “I don’t mind mentoring you, but you need to know, I’m going to tell you how it is, despite your feelings. I will push and challenge you. I don’t give a fuck about things that don’t make you money, which won’t make me money.”
She nodded and said, “I want the best.”
“I’m the best?” I challenged her.
“You know that you are, Mr. West. You don’t strike me as a man that fishes for compliments,” she quipped, which caused me to smirk at her candidness.
“Touché. I was confused if you thought I was the best, because you’ve cussed me out and turned me down twice. I was a bit fuzzy on what you thought of me.”
Her eyes narrowed, then she said, “You got me fired, ruined my dream five years ago, only to give me what I want later. I don’t understand you, so I’ve left my thoughts at the door. This is business and I want the best. You’re the best. I’d be a fool to pass up on that.”
Well.
“Then you got me.” I nodded. “Here are my requirements. Clause two is your budget. Three includes your salary. Four, has your sign-on bonus, that you’ll get today once you sign. Keep reading to see the non-disclosure agreement and as your mentor, we’ll need to meet often to go over timelines, marketing strategies, and a plethora of other items to make your dream come true. At least for the first ninety days.”
Dakota spent the next thirty minutes pouring over the contract, underlining and re-reading it. Patiently, I waited, because she was no fool. Though this was different for my company, she was getting the red-carpet treatment. The contract was very generous. Almost twenty thousand dollars for her sign-on bonus. That was never something we did, but I knew that she would need to get her shit together and I wanted to make sure that she could.
“Mr. West,” Dakota called after closing the folder with the contract inside. “Why are you doing this? Do you get off on being a savior or some knight and shining armor? Like, what is it that has you doing this?”
This caused me to laugh out loud, because I clearly was not that.
“I’ll give you the short version and over lunch some time the longer version,” I stood up. “I was a college drop-out because I had no inclination of being tied to anyone else’s vision. That wasn’t for me. And the idea of being a slave to get my freedom, when I was too old to enjoy it, was fucked up to me too. This Pastor shared once that just like hurt people hurt people; free people, free people. I’m free, Dakota and I want others to be the same.”
Nabbing my suit jacket from the back of my chair, I slid it on and told her, “Let’s go check out the team, your space and talk shop.”
She stood and followed me out of the office, then I showed her around and introduced her to various people on my team. She spoke to the Innovate, Period+ branch, to set up her funding source, management, recordkeeping, accounting, tax management and the other services they offered to help new partners get off the ground. To her surprise, they had already started working, with the information that she had from the show, years ago.
“You hired the teams, but what if I had said no?” She turned to me and whispered, so they couldn’t hear.
“You wouldn’t have,” I told her.
“So, this was a foregone conclusion for you?” Her eyes narrowed.
“Well, I removed all barriers that would be a reason for you to say no,” I told her honestly. “This is best.”
“Do you…” She cut herself off and then turned back around.
I knew what the question was going to be, and the answer would have revealed too much. That was proba
bly why she stopped herself from asking. Do I do this with everyone? That answer would be no.
Once we arrived back to my office, she signed the contract and the NDA and gave it to me. We had her schedule and my assistant would set up the times for me to meet with her to establish her team and start the marketing.
It was time for her to leave, so I walked her to the elevator.
“Mr. West, thank you,” Dakota raised those long eyelashes up to look at me underneath them. It was so submissive, I wanted to respond in another way, but this was not the time for that.
“It’s my pleasure,” I nodded. “But don’t thank me yet. Let’s do that when you’ve acquired that final goal.”
“No,” she shook her head. “If I don’t ever do anything, thank you for making me believe again.”
She gave me a small smile and walked onto the elevator.
Fuck me.
6
Dakota Bowers
That night, I picked up Ella from school, before her afterschool could come and get her.
“Mommy is everything alright?” she asked when she showed up to the main office.
“Everything is great,” I replied with a smile and a huge hug. “So good to see you. I’ve got a surprise, so I wanted to celebrate. Where do you want to eat?”
“Eat? I have food that you packed, plus my Music teacher has fruit cups. The cold ones,” she explained.
“Yes, I know.” I laughed. “You’re not going to music today, because I have something to tell you. Now, where do you want to celebrate?”
“Did you get the job you like?” she asked with big eyes.
“Yes, I did. That’s one part, but let’s go.” I stood and took her hand.
“That’s great, mommy. You’re so smart.” She beamed up at me and Mr. West’s words came back to me, reiterating why it was important for me to keep pushing. This little woman in the making was watching my every move.
Ella ended up wanting to go to Chuck-E-Cheese, which was fine with me. Their pizza was disgusting, but she was able to be the five-year-old that I wanted her to be. I told her that we had another trip to add to the list of places to attend this summer. When I told her that Disney World was on the table, she gasped, jumped up out of her seat and asked, “Really, mommy?”