Chapter 9

Marc sang as he drove. Tallulah sat in the passenger seat, looking out the window. She watched as they passed buildings, people, and cars. She couldn't help thinking about Lily and the things she'd said.

Finally, after several blocks, she spoke. "I want to find Lily's album," she said, still looking out the window.

Marc stopped singing. "We don't even know if she really had one. It could just be her talking," he replied.

She turned her head towards him. "I don't think so. She said she wasn't always on the street. Her voice is so good, I don't think her being a professional singer is a stretch." "Well, we would need to find out more about her," he said.

She looked surprised. "We?"

He smiled. "I think I can help you solve the mystery. Besides, Lily trusts me. She may not be willing to tell you her secrets, but she may tell me."

She turned her head toward the window. "The reporter in me says there's something to her story. It's a vibe I get. I call it my gut instinct," she replied.

They drove a little while in silence. As Tallulah listened to the humming of the car, she thought about Lily.

"What's Lily's last name?" she asked.

Marc thought for a moment. "I think it's Duke."

"Lily Duke," she echoed.

He looked at her. She was beautiful. Her long dreadlocks flowed down her back. Her skin looked smooth and soft. He wondered if she was seeing anyone.

"Hey, what do you do for fun?"

She looked at him. You was the first thought that entered her mind.

"I dunno," she replied, "the usual stuff. You know, movies, hanging out, reading, and writing." "That sounds okay, but not really classified as fun. Sounds kinda boring," he replied. "I am not boring," she said, sounding a little insulted.

"I didn't say you were boring. I said your idea of fun sounds boring," he said.

She didn't want to admit he was right, maybe she was a little boring. She hadn't dated in a year. She had a bad breakup and decided she was going to donate time to herself. She didn't mind being alone. She spent most of her childhood alone, but it would be nice to have someone to hang out with.

"Okay, Mr. Fun. What do you do?" she said.

"Well, for starters, I love to travel. I don't get to very much, but it is something I try to do every year. I go to the gym, I'm in a basketball league, I love to eat, listen to live music, drink with the fellas, go out to clubs, maybe get in some golf, BBQ, play cards…"

She stopped him. "Okay, so you have more fun than me. I get it."

He flashed his devastating smile at her. "I could show you some fun stuff. If you want."

She looked at him, trying not to look eager. "Okay," she said in her most noncommittal voice.

"Great. So give me your number, and we'll go have some fun," he replied.

She turned her head toward the window, mouthed, "Yes!", then turned back towards him.

"Okay," she said.

Marc pulled up to Zoe's Soul Food Kitchen. "Here you are!" he said cheerfully.

He put the car in park and pulled out his cell phone. She gave him her number, and he quickly put it into his phone. He then stopped for a moment and looked at her sheepishly.

"I'm not sure how to spell your name," he admitted.

"Well, my girls just shorten it to T, or some people call me Lula," she replied. "Lula," he said. "I like that."

He typed the letters into his phone and looked up at her. "Okay Lula, I'll be calling you very soon."

She smiled. "Great."

She opened the car door and let herself out. He waved goodbye, and she watched him drive away. She quickly walked into the restaurant. It was empty, with the expectation of a few customers having a late lunch.

The calm before the storm, she thought to herself.

She walked back into the kitchen and found Zoe in her office.

She danced into the office. Her eyes were bright, and she was grinning from ear to ear. Zoe watched her dancing around.

"You know you awkward, right?" she said.

She continued her awkward dancing and added words to her moves. "I have a date. I have a date. He is fine, so divine, I'll slowly sip him like a good glass of wine." On the last word, she sat down.

Zoe looked at her. "Okay, so I'll bite. Who's the lucky fine glass of wine?" "Marc from the shelter," Tallulah replied, smiling. Zoe looked surprised. "Fine ass Marc?" she said.

"Yes, girl. He's taking me out for fun!" She stood back up and started singing again. "I'm going out with fine ass Marc. It's not the end; it's only the start."

"Stop!" said Zoe. "You cannot sing, T. Please stop hurting me and anyone else who can hear you."

Tallulah smiled and awkwardly danced out of the office.

* * *

"Dinner tips are better than lunch tips," Robert said. He was sitting at a table with Tallulah. "I did good tonight," he said, standing up. "I'm out, T. Have a good night." "'Night, Robert," she replied, then watched him walk out the door.

She continued counting. She took the bills and put them in her wallet, then placed the wallet in her bag. Zoe came into the dining room, looking tired. She slowly sat next to Tallulah.

"I think this was the busiest night ever," she said, laying her head on the table. "I'm just gonna sleep right here."

"I did so good in tips, but my feet are killing me. You are really starting to get busy, Zoe."

Zoe groaned. "I know this is what I wanted, but it's a lot of work." She slowly sat up. "Anna from the shelter called me today. She asked me if I'd help with a fundraiser. She wanted to have, like, a dinner, but I suggested an open mic/poetry slam."

"What? Didn't I just hear you say you're exhausted? And now you want to do a fundraiser?"

Zoe laid her head back down on the table and groaned. "Yes. Okay, but hear me out." She lifted her head from the table.

"Okay. I could make some space over there; more in the front of the dining room. We won't need a stage. Just a mic, maybe some speakers. I can run a modified menu. It could work. I would donate what we take at the door, and maybe half of the food receipts. What do ya think?" "It sounds like a lot of work. You have a good heart, Zoe. So, when are you trying to do this?"

"I was thinking a month to 6 weeks. Do you think Michael would donate some advertising space?"

"Nope. Not doing that," Tallulah said.

"Not doing what?" asked Zoe. "I'm not being y'all's go-between or mouthpiece. You and Michael are funny. He likes you, Zoe. He has since college. You like him. You have since college. Pull the fuckin' trigger already."

Zoe opened her mouth, but no words came out. She kept her head on the table.

"If you want Michael to donate advertising space for your little fundraiser, you're gonna have to ask him yourself," Tallulah said.

Zoe groaned again. Her voice was low and serious. "Okay, I do like Michael. But both of us

have been really involved in our careers. Besides, he's shy. The one time he actually took me out,

he barely said anything."

"Really?" Tallulah said.

"Yes, really. But you're right. This is my deal. I'll call him. Besides, it's business."

"Okay. Well, if you need help, you should call Chloe. This is her thing. But don't let her turn it into a booty club."

Zoe raised her head off the table. "You know what? You're right. I should ask Chloe. She loves this shit."

"And she'll totally take over. Very little work for you," Tallulah added.

Zoe smiled. Her eyes lit up. "Again! You are a fuckin' genius!"

Tallulah bowed her head, as if standing in front of an audience. "Please, please, I already know.

Thank you. Thank you." They both laughed.

Zoe stood up. "Need a ride home?"

"You know I do."

* * *

"The last Skype interview is all set up, Sharon. We're scheduled for 3 pm," Patty said as she put the file on Sharon's desk.

Sharon rubbed her eyes. "I'm so tired of talking for one day. Interviewing is exhausting." Patty smiled. "Well, this is the last one. Tallulah Brock. All her information is in this file." Sharon nodded her head, picked up the file, and went through the pages. She then put the file down. "Thank you, Patty."

Patty nodded and left the office. Sharon checked the time. Her last interview was in 10 minutes. She picked up the file again and scanned the articles. She read the title "Women in Power" and smirked. It made her think of Sylvia. Sharon was glad she was gone.

Poor Maldives, she thought.

At 2:50 pm, Tallulah was sitting at her small kitchen table. She'd prepared for her interview. She did research on You & Me. She learned about the scandal with Sylvia and her mother and how the magazine went through a rebranding phase. She'd also learned Sylvia Blass was a real bitch. She read several colorful stories about her. She'd been called a bitch, a racist, and dragon lady. She was the woman who sold out her own mother for headlines.

Tallulah readied herself. At precisely 3:00 pm, her computer chimed. She clicked the app, and a white woman appeared on the screen.

"Hi, Tallulah. I'm Sharon Eckerson."

Tallulah smiled. "Hi, Sharon. Nice to meet you."

They had a great conversation. Tallulah instantly took a liking to Sharon. She was down to Earth and easygoing. She learned Sharon had started out as a writer, then assistant editor, then editor.

Sharon learned about BW and how Tallulah came to write for the small paper. Toward the end of the interview, Sharon asked Tallulah about the types of stories she'd like to write.

"Well," said Tallulah, feeling relaxed, "I like to write about things that are real. Real issues, real people. I'm working on a story about a local homeless shelter. I've volunteered a couple of times. What appeals to me is that my story may help with funding and donations. I really want to help. I'm going to highlight some of the people who depend on the shelter."

Sharon smiled. "Wow, that sounds like a great project. I would like to read it when you're finished. I mean, it's nothing we would run in You & Me, but it sounds like a good cause." "I'll let you know when I'm finished," Tallulah said.

"I've enjoyed speaking with you and would love for you to do some freelance stuff for me. We're preparing for our spring issue. Spring is always big for us. I can send over all the paperwork, and I have a list of topics for our smaller upcoming issues. You can choose 2-4 to write about."

Tallulah smiled. She felt the quiver in her stomach. "Sharon, that sounds great. I'm so excited to join you."

Sharon smiled and said, "Great. You'll hear from my assistant, Patty. She'll send over all the

paperwork. Okay?"

"Okay," Tallulah replied.

"It was nice meeting you, Tallulah. We'll speak again soon."

Tallulah closed her laptop and sat for a moment. She then started jumping around the small apartment.

"I got a job! I got a job! Finally!" she yelled.

She continued to jump around until she heard a light knock at the door. "Lula, is everything OK?"

Tallulah stopped jumping and went to the door. She opened it to find Mrs. Herrera standing in front of her.

She smiled widely. "I just got a freelance job!"

Mrs. Herrera smiled and walked inside the apartment. "I am so happy for you. Now you don't have to worry about money."

Tallulah shut the door. "Yes. Wait – I didn't ask about what it pays." She had a worried look on her face.

"Don't worry. I'm sure it'll be enough. Are you hungry?"

Sharon leaned back in the large leather office chair and stretched and yawned. Patty came into the office, "So, how did it go?"

Sharon looked at her. "I really liked her. She had some great answers. She was down to Earth, smart, funny, and personable. I hired her."

Patty sat down in a chair facing the desk. "Great. Do you want me to send her the packet?" Sharon nodded. "Yes."

"Am I sending a packet to anyone else?" she asked.

Sharon thought for a moment. "No, not yet."

Patty nodded, stood up, and left the office.

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