Page 46 of Token

“Hey, it’s nothing. I’m just doing my job.”

Nate considered himself lucky to have him as his CTO but even luckier to have him as a friend.

Kennedy stood at the head of the conference room and took in the faces of the six contractors set to deploy to Fields Literary Agency the following day.

Before anyone was sent out to a client, they were brought in for a mandatory half-hour training session, where they learned what Token offered their contractors besides a paycheck. Jonathan had taken over teaching the class from her a year ago, but in the name of keeping herself familiar with the material, she tried to teach one every quarter. Today, her office manager was seated in the back, quietly observing, and there if she needed him.

“Okay, now that everyone is seated, let’s do a quick roll call. I like to do this to make sure I get everyone’s name right, so please let me know if I mispronounce yours.”

She glanced down at the list of names in her hand. “Jane Tanaka, Annabella Cortez, Jamal White, Claudia George, Farid Kaur, and Andre Simpson.”

After she called out each name, a corresponding hand went up. In the end, no one corrected her, which was great because names had been butchered in the past.

Kennedy then introduced herself and gave them the five-minute spiel about Token, explaining its mission statement and overarching goal.

She then spent the next fifteen minutes detailing all the benefits it offered its contractors, the most attractive being a guaranteed in-person interview at the client company for a permanent, full-time position for those actively looking for a job.

“Tomorrow you’ll be reporting to Timothy Black, and—” Kennedy broke off when Andre, a thirty-four-year-old Black man, raised his hand.

“Is he white?” he asked.

“Uh, yes...” Interesting question. Usually, that was a given.

Andre pointed to Jamal, who sat in front of him. “So, Jamal White is Black and Timothy Black is white. Things could get confusing tomorrow.”

Snickers and titters filled the room. Kennedy couldn’t stop herself from joining in the laughter. There was a jokester in every group.

“I don’t know how people will be able to tell us apart,” Jamal added with a smirk, undoubtedly used to his last name being used as a punch line.

“You can always pencil a mole on your face. I heard that works,” Annabella offered with a dimpled smile.

More laughing ensued.

It seemed as if the group would do well together tomorrow. As part of their duties, they would be participating in a photo shoot for the company brochure. The literary agency needed “candid” images of a diverse workforce—something they were working frantically to address. Where once upon a time, stock images would have done the trick, these days, companies chose to forgo their use. The risks of seeing the same images on another company’s website or brochure were too high and opened them up to sharp criticism and unfavorable press.

Butting up against the half-hour finish time, Kennedy knew she needed to wrap things up. “Any other questions?” she asked, looking around.

Farid raised his hand. “How much diversity are they looking for? Like, should I wear a turban?” he asked in a distinctive New York accent.

Kennedy took in Farid’s dark hair, which was cut close on the sides and back and longer at the top. “Do you normally wear one?” She highly doubted he did.

“No, but I could get one if that’s the kind of diversity they’re looking for.”

“Then I suggest you do without one. I think you’ll be perfectly fine the way you look now.”

For many of the agency’s recruits, this was more of an acting gig than a job. For others, this was a foot in the door. Kennedy knew for a fact that Claudia and Jamal hoped to land full-time jobs with the literary agency, and she’d made sure Timothy Black was aware of that. If her prior experience was any indication, their chances of being offered employment were high. They both possessed the right background for the positions the agency needed to fill.

When it came to Farid, it was clear theatrics were his bent. He’d give them all the diversity and culture their hearts desired. She loved his attitude.

“Excuse me, Kennedy, sorry to interrupt—”

Kennedy’s gaze shot to where Mina Shah stood in the partially open door. Mina was the client coordinator and had been a part of the agency’s first round of hires.

“—but something’s come up.” Mina’s expression suggested a Category 3 hurricane was about to hit.

Senses on heightened alert, Kennedy quickly excused herself and hurried to the door. Jonathan joined her as she stepped out of the room. After he closed the door behind them, the three shuffled out of sight of the class.

“Ainsley Fields called from Fields Literary Agency,” Mina said, her voice slightly breathless. “They just got a call from a reporter at theGlobe. He’s working on a story that accuses them of using stock images for a company brochure they put out six years ago. He’s giving them twenty-four hours to respond and then the story’s going live.”

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