Underneath his fitted black suit his body was pure muscle, and Olga rebounded off in such a way, he needed to use his one free arm to steady her. In her confusion, she looked up, ready to apologize, but he began speaking before she could open her mouth.
“Ms. Acevedo?”
“Yes,” she said, surprised.
“Sorry to startle you, but Mr. Reyes would like a word with you.”
“Reggie?” she asked, equally surprised by the use of his legal name as she was his impromptu appearance.
“Yes, ma’am. He’s waiting in the car, just up the street. So, if you don’t mind following me…”
The mountainous man’s name turned out to be Clyde. Olga learned a remarkable amount about him on their relatively short walk. He’d been a linebacker at Howard, Reggie’s alma mater, before getting sidelined with an injury and losing his scholarship. He was working Reggie’s security detail to earn tuition money, though he was enjoying it so much, he wasn’t sure he would go back. By the time the driver opened the door to Reggie’s military-grade luxury SUV, Olga felt deeply invested in his future.
“Clyde, you’ve got to go back to school, okay?” she said as she slid into the rear of the vehicle.
From under the umbrella, Clyde smiled. “I’ll definitely think about it, Ms. Acevedo.”
The driver closed the door for her, and Olga turned her attention to Reggie. She wasn’t certain what he could possibly want but was fairly sure he had more to say about her brother, especially with the Hurricane Irma damage in P.R. Still, it was unlike him to use her, or anyone, as a go-between. Reggie’s style was more combative: to call someone out on social media or just roll up to her brother’s congressional office with a camera crew in tow. What on earth could he want from her?
“Clyde’s sweet,” she said as she turned to him. She was surprised to find him not on his phone but sitting fully upright, his attention focused on her.
“He’s a good kid.”
“You have to pay for him to go back to school; his tuition is like, five dollars for you.”
Reggie laughed.
“You act like a bitch all the time, but you have this heart of gold, Olga. Of course I’m gonna pay his tuition, but it’s not a bad thing to let him work for it a bit, is it?”
Olga shrugged. “How come only Brown and Black people have to learn to work for everything? Why can’t we get some stuff just handed to us once in a while?”
“Fair point,” he conceded.
There was a silence.
“So,” Olga offered, with suspicion, “what’s up with the stakeout … Mr. Reyes?”
Reggie chuckled. “Well, Ms. Acevedo, as it happens, I’m using my government name in personal settings these days. Considering changing it professionally, too.”
“Bad for your brand,” Olga offered.
“But good for my people—our people—to see that a Black man, an Afro-Latino man, did all this.” Reggie gestured around at the car, which—only now did Olga notice—was intensely lavish: vast space, mother-of-pearl inlays, and a leather interior she could not quite place the texture of. She fingered the seats.
“If you’re wondering, it’s whale dicks.”
“That’s fucking nasty, Reggie,” Olga said as she jumped off her seat.
Reggie belly laughed, hard.
“Nah, I’m kidding. I’m kidding. The original Dartz had them though! No joke. Sheiks were into it. Had diamonds and rubies in the gauges, too. That sounded over the top, even to me, but God do I love this fucking truck! Bulletproof. All of it, windows, sides. Safer than Limo One.”
“It’s very subtle,” Olga offered with a smile.
“Just like me, mami, just like me! Anyway, all I’m saying is, when I started using ‘King,’ I was thinking of my own self. How do I advance my own shit? Now, my focus is on advancing my people—Puerto Ricans, Latinos generally, and of course Black people. You can’t be it if you can’t see it. So, I want people to see that while this clown in D.C. is trying to round us up and ice us out, a man named Reyes could buy and sell this motherfucker.”
Olga looked out the window and realized that, even in the rain, people—mainly teens—had stopped to take pictures of the monstrosity. She remembered seeing photos of Reggie and his kids hopping out of this same truck on one of the hip-hop gossip accounts. These kids probably saw it, too. Now they were scrambling in the rain just to get a picture of his car. Not even him. He was a mogul, and he looked like them. Reggie hadn’t had anyone to look up to. His pomposity had not changed; his ego was, if anything, larger than ever. But she was moved by his sincerity.