Page 20 of The CEO's Christmas Wife

“Again, you were staring at me.”

“Just lost in thought.”

She pulled her bottom lip and tugged it for a few seconds before she asked, “About what?”

“I’ve had several assistants in the past, but you’re very efficient. I know that we haven’t been working together long, but you’ve done an excellent job with the responsibilities that you’ve taken on in such a short while. I’m hearing great things about the Christmas party and how it’s coming along. Just wanted to tell you to keep up the good work.”

She smiled shyly, glanced at her computer screen, and then back at me. “Thank you. I was wondering about that.”

“What?”

“If I was doing a good job.”

“Trust me, if you weren’t, you would know.”

“You should do that more often, . . . tell your staff how you feel about their work. People like to hear the good things now and then, too, just as well as the bad stuff.”

“Is that what you think—that I only give bad news?”

“Uhm, . . . you’re not shy about making your displeasure known, but people aren’t always sure when you are pleased.”

I nodded as I thought about that. I knew that she was right. Part of that had to do with my street mentality. It wasn’t always about breaking people off cred or smiling in their faces and shit. Sometimes, you just had to handle your business and keep it pushing. I applied that same logic to my business model.

“Well, I am pleased, Kandi, with everything that you’ve done so far.”

“Thank you. You make me wonder why it’s so hard for you to speak a kind word or say something encouraging to someone.”

“It’s not hard. I just don’t choose to do that shit,” I replied, letting my guard down for the first time in a long time.

I was always guarded with anyone who came around me, whether they were staff or women. But I didn’t feel the need to be that way with Kandi. I wasn’t sure if it was being at my aunt and uncle’s house or Kandi’s personality that was having that effect on me. If I shared those thoughts with her, she might say it was the magic of the season or some goofy shit like that.

“Why not? What made the man that I see before me today, Mr. Emmanuel Kayn?”

She was cheesing at me as though saying my whole name brought her pleasure. Shit, I wanted to hear her scream my whole name, but only if I was buried balls deep inside of her.

Damn. I had to stop thinking like that. Kandi clearly wasn’t that girl.

“I’m listening.”

“To what?” I asked.

“For you to tell me what made you the man you are today.”

Fear crept up my spine, and I dragged my hand down my face. I wasn’t certain what Aunt Frances had shared with her the first night here after I left and headed into the kitchen. Either way, I figured I might as well tell her some of the shit that led to my street mentality.

“My father was a dope dealer, and my mama was what you might consider his bottom bitch. She wasn’t supposed to get pregnant with me, but when she did, their relationship went sour. He sent her packing, and after that, it was just me and my moms for the most part. In the early years, he would drop in from time to time and drop off money. Whenever I asked him why he wasn’t around, he would say some shit like hustlers ain’t got no time to settle down. A real G gotta be out there making money every hour on the hour.”

I shook my head and closed my eyes.

“Do you think that you adopted that mentality?” Kandi asked.

I opened my eyes again when I realized how close she was to me. I hadn’t heard her get off the love seat and sit beside me on the couch. I hadn’t even felt the weight of the couch shift. The memories of my past had pulled me under.

“Of course. Like I said, he was never around except when he was dropping off money. When he came around, it wasn’t to spend time. He would drop some of his so-called street wisdom and keep rolling. As a little guy, I looked up to him. I mean, after all, he was my daddy. I idolized him and made him into something that he wasn’t for the other little kids who had a daddy in their life and often asked about mine.”

“I’m so sorry that you had to go through that and that he wasn’t there to teach you the reality of being a man. But it seems that you figured that part out on your own.”

I shook my head. “Nah, I figured most shit out by being a knucklehead if I didn’t listen to Uncle JR. He was a real man, the only one I should have been listening to, but it took years for me to figure that out. By the time I came to live with them, I was fourteen. I immediately went to work with Uncle JR that summer and found that I enjoyed working in landscaping.”

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