Page 48 of Token

“I say we pay everyone who was supposed to go tomorrow. Is that okay with you? I mean, it isn’t their fault the whole thing went upside down and sideways.”

“Absolutely,” Aurora agreed, nodding.

“The reporter said he’ll let us know twenty-four hours in advance before they run the story, so we’ll have some time to get ahead of it.” Kennedy now sincerely believed that no matter which story the paper ran, the literary agency would be fine. In the context of what was acceptable then and what was acceptable now, her argument was on solid ground.

“My dad’s worked with Dawn Robinson, so if you need me to put in a word, I’d be more than happy to,” Aurora offered before quickly covering her mouth as a yawn overtook her. Grinning sheepishly, she said, “I need to get more sleep.”

Kennedy studied her friend. Her Spidey senses were tingling. Something was up. “All right, what’s going on with you?”

Aurora stared at her, blue eyes wide and questioning. “What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you’re usually at your desk by eight every morning and in the last week or so you’re coming in after nine. And now you tell me you haven’t been sleeping. Are you seeing Jake again and not telling me?”

Six months ago, Jake, her ex-boyfriend, had issued Aurora an ultimatum: either they move in together—which entailed him moving into her multimillion-dollar brownstone—or he was gone. Since he’d said it while they were at said brownstone, Aurora had promptly retrieved his toothbrush and razor from the bathroom and kicked him out. At the time, they’d been going out three months.

Aurora’s pretty face contorted in horror. “Youcannotbe serious. I wouldn’t get back together with him if you paid me.”

“Just checking.” Kennedy was more than a little relieved. Jake was a straight-up gold-digging brat. His looks might pull a girl in, but his lack of ambition would send her running in the other direction clutching her wallet and ATM card. She didn’t know how her friend put up with him for as long as she had. A guy could only leave his credit card at home so many times before he was washing dishes to settle the bill. Guaranteed, it would be the last time his trifling ass would “forget” it again.

“Then what’s going on? Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

Aurora’s shoulders rose and fell on a sigh. “It’s this thing with Nate, you know. I wish I could do more to help. Although I will say, the article out this morning is pretty positive. It makes a point to credit him for all the work the company does in underprivileged communities and gives him big props for the high school turnaround.”

Seven years ago, Nate partnered with a high school in one of the most underfunded school districts in Brooklyn. He’d given millions to not only renovate the building inside and out, but funded a STEM program that had become the envy of public high schools in the five boroughs. In that time, the graduation rate went from 65 percent to a staggering 90 percent, 80 percent of which went on to college. And their college graduation gift from the company? A job offer. It was a win-win situation for the students, the company, and the high school.

“That’s fantastic.” Things were already working out on the PR front. He might not need her for much longer, as long as the case didn’t go to trial.

Then why didn’t the prospect fill her with joy? This was, after all, their goal. All that they’d hoped to accomplish. Falling for him again was not. And she had a feeling the likelihood of that happening was in direct correlation to the length of their charade.

Kennedy hastily pushed the discomforting thoughts aside. “What about you? You working on anything new? Sign any new clients?” They usually got together twice a week to catch each other up on their respective client lists.

“Funny you should ask. I just got a call that’s probably better suited for you,” Aurora said.

“Oh yeah, what’s it about?”

Appearing more at ease, Aurora reclined in her tan leather chair. “Joseph Russo, the senior producer at WNLE, has been suspended for telling a Black female reporter that she won’t be featured on air unless she changes her hair. He said his comments had nothing to do with her race.”

“For the love of God,” Kennedy exclaimed, exasperated. “How hard is it for people tonotsay clearly racist and offensive things? I mean, seriously. Is that really asking too much?”

A long breath whistled past Aurora’s lips. “Some habits are hard to break.”

“Some habits should be smothered in their cradle at birth,” Kennedy muttered darkly. “Honestly, it has to be one of two things. Either it’s so second nature to them that they don’t believe what they’re saying is offensive,orthey do and don’t care.” All her clients who ended up in a similar predicament swore up and down that it was the former, not the latter. Because of course.

True, her reward was the hefty fee the agency charged, but her satisfaction came when the company was then compelled—some might say forced—to diversify. Potato, po-tah-to, the results were the same.

“Viewers have threatened to boycottRise and Shineif he isn’t fired.”

“Not surprising,” Kennedy responded dryly. “This one isn’t going to be easy. A woman’s hair is her crowning glory. What was the hairstyle that triggered him?”

“The reporter, Alexis Montgomery, came to work with her hair in braids. He told her to go home andfix it.”

Kennedy snorted a laugh and then couldn’t stop laughing, tears filling her eyes. Once she finally caught her breath, she wheezed, “Fix it?Does he have any idea how long it takes to put those things in? She’d be lucky if it was a five-hour job.”

“Honestly, white people,” Aurora mocked, with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

At that, they both erupted into gales of laughter, reminding Kennedy of their college days, when their smallest feats of hilarity could set them off. Like the time they convinced a bunch of drunk NYU students that they were fraternal twins, the only medical rarity of their kind in the country.

“So, when do I meet with this paragon of tolerance and inclusivity? And am I going to him or is he coming here?”

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