Chapter One
Scarlett
“The interaction with your last post has been amazing,” Talia, who’s one of my coworkers and is also one of my best friends, says from the cubicle beside me. We both work in downtown Jacksonville on E Bay St and our office overlooks the St. Johns River.
We work at a fashion magazine called Blur, but over the last year it’s turned into more than just a magazine about fashion. Now we’re having our journalists going out and doing things like trying certain feminine waxes, the newest beauty trends, and so much more. Honestly, we’re rapidly growing and I think we’re going to be comparable to Cosmopolitan soon.
“Which one? I’ve scheduled so many over the last few days,” I tell her while picking up my afternoon cup of coffee. I’m one of those women who drink it early in the morning and then right before I leave. But today is a much different day, I’m leaving a few hours early so I can go enjoy a nice Jacksonville afternoon. I had some rollover vacation time from last year so now it’s time to use it.
“The Twitter post, it really got people moving and communicating with the magazine. I heard Bernard say something about it.”
“Positive or negative?” I question. Bernard’s our boss, one of the men whose photo is on the hallway leading into the offices with some of the other more established and reputable people here. I think he might even be on the board, but I can’t be too sure. I’d have to double-check.
“Positive. This is good, Scarlett. You’re making it so he knows your name.”
I smile lightly, but I aimed to get a job here because of what my mother told me. Bernard isn’t just a man, he’s most likely my father and my mother never told him about me. Now, I’ve debated strutting right up to him and telling him who I am, and who I think he is . . . but I couldn’t do it. I wanted to prove myself here at Blur first, and from the looks of it I’m starting to do just that.
My mother told me she had an affair with a man in journalism, one who was always searching for his next story. She told me that even though she felt fondly of him, she knew he wasn’t the type to stay home and raise a family, how his heart was burned into his work and she felt it was unfair to force him into playing house.
Not many people would understand the position she was put in, but I do. She grew up in a very rural part of Georgia and moved to Florida with me when I was a few weeks old. When I was sixteen, she sat me down the evening of my birthday and answered every question I had about my family, about why my grandparents didn’t come to my birthday parties as a child, about why I didn’t know her brother, or two sisters, or even my cousins. Anything I could’ve possibly questioned, I asked her.
I discovered some ugly truths that day, truths I often wish weren’t my reality but alas they are. My mother. No, let me rephrase that. My angel of a mother left behind her entire family when I came out of the womb and they saw what I looked like. Every bit of excitement they could’ve had flew out the window, the same excitement that took months to build up, considering their daughter was unwed.
Georgia is a very hush-hush state, so having kids out of wedlock at the time wasn’t exactly the way most people wanted to go. My mother told them she was having me and that was pretty much it. After a while they began to support her, and then I was born, and my grandparents saw I was too dark.
I was too dark for their liking.
I wasn’t white enough to be Caucasian, but the irony is how I wasn’t black enough to be with the black kids when I went to school. There weren’t even very many kids who had the same skin tone as me when I was in elementary, middle, or high school . . . which only ended up making it worse.
Now I accept the fact I’m a beautiful, biracial woman, and while the road called life wasn’t easy . . . I pride myself on my triumphs. I may be a mixture of both worlds, but I truly believe it’s the best. Now I only wish I can gain the courage to speak to Bernard, who yes is one of my bosses, but is also half of the reason I’m here.
I’ve been slowly gaining the courage to speak to him about this for a while now, and while I’ve had countless opportunities . . . I’m going to wait. I’ll wait until the end of the month, and on my twenty-fifth birthday I’ll tell him everything. I’ll tell him who I am. I’ll tell him who my mother is, and I’ll pray he’s accepting and open to communicating with me in a different way than he does while we’re at work.
“Guess I’ll have to throw more polls online from time to time. I was experimenting with our readers a bit, but I’m glad to know it paid off.”
Talia smiles widely. “It more than paid off. When you come in Monday morning check and see what the counts were. I overheard him talking to Clarise and he said your idea was, and I quote, brilliant.”
Heat swarms in my chest and I’m happier than I’ve been in ages. To know I’m doing something right here at Blur is one thing, but knowing he holds pride in what I accomplished makes me even prouder.
I finish my last sip of coffee and log out of my computer. It’s about sixty-three out today so I wore a light jacket in and I’ll be wearing it out as well. I plan on going straight home to the apartment I share with my boyfriend of six months, Scott, and then I’ve booked myself a nice spa day starting this evening at four.
Smiling at Talia, I pick up my purse and sling it over my shoulder after I have my jacket on. “Thanks for telling me. I really needed to hear that.”
“It’s no problem. You know how the upper management is here. They’re hardly ones who go boasting when someone does a good job and it’s always nice to hear whenever we’re doing something they like.” Talia has a really good point here. I’d rather know what’s working well for not only the magazine, but for the people upstairs as well.
“Thank you. I really owe you one.”
“How about we go out to dinner and have a girls’ night? I’m desperate for a good wing woman.” Talia and I have known each other for the last year, both getting our jobs at the exact same time. Blur operates a bit differently, offering hiring surges. For example, if they need new journalists, they might hire five to ten at a time. The same goes for every other department here.
“Okay, just text me and let me know when and I’ll be the best wing woman you’ve ever had,” I say with a wink, causing Talia to laugh.
I finish sorting out my desk, close my laptop and slide it in my laptop case that looks like a backpack and sling it over my arm. Since I’m ready to head out, I walk right to the elevator, get in the second it opens and take a deep breath.
Today is going to be a great day.
Chapter Two
Filthy
“Is everything alright?” I ask my little sister, Cameron, from where she sits across from me at the burger joint we’re at. I call her my little sister, but in actuality she’s not so little anymore. At twenty-four years old she’s grown into quite the incredible woman, following my own career path. I’m a criminal defense lawyer who dabbles in a few other areas of expertise, but my sister, Cameron, is passionate about immigration law. Most likely because our mother came to the United States with us when I was about ten and my sister was two.