Can't Get Enough (Skyland, #3)(47)
“We’re excited, too. I’m always looking for investments, but especially since I sold the True Playahs app.”
“That was a huge risk, yeah? Selling what was kind of the cornerstone of your business.” I toast him with my French 75. “Cheers to that kind of confidence.”
He grins and shrugs. “In this game you have to be, especially as a Black man moving in these circles. I ain’t waiting for nobody to tell me I’m the shit. You better know it going in.”
“Oh, I get that. We gotta build ourselves up. And well, I have my girls. My friends always got my back and remind me who the hell I am if I forget.”
“I like you, Hendrix.” He says it without a smile, in a way that sounds earnest and real and not like he’s saying something to fill the space. He doesn’t take it back or explain it away, but forges on. “The kind of confidence that you exude is magnetic. You know that?”
I stare at him, my lips wrestling in the battle between a smile and a scowl. He shouldn’t be saying this shit to me, even though it’s presented as if it’s perfectly harmless. I know better. I know those are the kinds of words that cling to the inside of your mind and play on repeat when you’re drifting off to sleep.
He takes another draw from his drink, watching me over the rim of the glass. He seems completely comfortable with the silence that builds and tightens like air being blown into a tiny balloon. He’s unafraid of the pop, but my muscles tense with the threat of it; the destruction. I need to distract myself. Now.
“I wanted to ask about one of your ‘risky’ investments,” I say, forcing myself to meet his gaze again. “You mentioned that you’ve invested in cannabis before.”
“Still do.” He straightens and sets the glass on the bar, an alertness replacing the languor from before. “What’s up?”
“Nelly and Kashawn approached me with something they termed ‘out of the box.’ Something we’ve never done before, but they want us to consider. Or at least one company they want us to consider, but it’s a vice industry.”
“There’s restrictions on those.” He frowns, his dark, thick brows bunching. “They can be a little tougher, but I’m familiar with the ins and outs if you need any help. What aspect of cannabis? A grower, a dispensary, an app? What we talking about?”
“It’s a grower, but she has ideas that are more scalable.” I grin and shrug a little sheepishly. “The extent of our knowledge doesn’t go beyond smoking it.”
“Funny,” he says, but there’s an inward concentration to his expression that may mean his wheels are spinning.
“We just want to know a little more about the business. Nelly feels strongly that we should give this woman a chance, but we’ve focused a lot more on tech-enabled companies.”
“That all makes sense. I definitely take a risk investing in growers, but it’s not as much about ROI for me. The prohibition of cannabis has done a lot of harm specifically to our community. I want to assist marginalized entrepreneurs who have been historically disenfranchised by legislation designed just as much to target us as it was to protect anyone else.”
“That’s a really restorative approach,” I say approvingly.
“Absolutely. The system criminalized activity around this drug in a way that disproportionately prosecuted Black people. Why not flip the script now that it’s legal and use it to create generational wealth in our community, for our families? Close some of the gaps created by the shit we had to put up with since we got here.”
“Amen to that.”
“Cannabis has now been classified as a less-addictive drug. NBA players used to be penalized, suspended for it, and now the league has reached an agreement to allow it. Baseball, hockey, and football had already made that adjustment.”
“I heard that, and couldn’t help but think about how Iverson caught a case way back in the day for weed.”
“Exactly. Ricky Williams lost a whole season of football because of it, but times have changed. Hell, one state recently issued mass pardons to those doing time for marijuana-related charges. As legalization spreads, so does opportunity. We need to take advantage of that.”
He slides his hands into his pockets and rocks a little on his heels, eagerness radiating from every pore. And I realize that money is like a playground for him; investments an adventure.
“I got an idea,” he says.
“Famous last words?” I set my empty glass on the bar and signal the bartender for another.
“No, famous first ones.” He levels a look on me that tells me we’re headed for a bad idea. It’s full of challenge and maybe a little mischief. “Come with me to Colorado.”
“Um, no.” I was already questioning my wisdom coming to his box tonight. A road trip? No damn way.
“There’s a grower there who has branched out into more scalable efforts,” he continues. “A point-of-sale app similar to what she may be considering.”
“I don’t think—”
“Not just you, of course,” he cuts in, his smile knowing, like he read my mind at a glance; could see my thoughts. “Bring Nelly and Kashawn, too. I bet they’d love to meet this grower.”
He knew the buttons to push. Of course I wouldn’t want to refuse such an opportunity so perfect for what we’re considering out of hand, at least not without consulting my partners.