Silver Currents of Change

Chapter 8

Friday morning, after they synchronized their lists of what needed to be done that day, Zarah wasn't sure why her tall, caramel brown, handsome, dreadlocks-rocking friend was still hanging around. He was good-looking and she loved him like a brother. He wanted more, and she didn't. He wanted them to date, and he kept asking. But since he was at least three years older than she was, she didn't know how to tell him he was too young for her. That day she was daring him to ask her for a date, again. If he found the nerve to do it, all dressed up in her only suit, she was ready to let him have it. They both had a ton of things to do ... and now wasn't the time.

He pushed his locks out of his face. "I can't believe how fast you and Kenzia got the gallery back up this morning." 

She smiled at him thinking he looked nice in his shirt and tie. "We didn't have a choice. We got here at eight because there's no telling how early Mr. Harvey Wilson might come. Dr. Jared said he can be unpredictable. Likes to catch people off guard so he can see them without them seeing him."

"It's a rich-man thang. A way to see who somebody is when they're just being themselves. I bet'cha anything he was here yesterday, just like my informant said he would be. Probably in disguise, pretending to be one of the parents or one of the teachers."

Zarah laughed. "If he was here? In disguise? It was a good one and it worked. Because I swear I didn't see him."

"You wouldn't.  See. Rich people have to check folk out, without them knowing they being checked out, because people can put on all kinds of acts and airs ... you know, when they know a billionaire is looking."

She used her eyes to send him a big smirk. "I'm sure you know all about that."

"Hey, did I ever tell you I met him one time?"

When he moved in closer, she got prepared to remind him of what they were there to do that morning, if necessary. "Who, Mr. Wilson?" she gave him her most serious look. He was vice president, second in command of the Communications Club, and she was its president. Definitely an alpha male, he still answered to her and she never hesitated to remind him, if and when it seemed he'd forgotten.

"Yeah. My cousin introduced me one time when I was down there. I know you don't usually like people of his ... color ... but I think you'll like Harvey Wilson. He's a cool white dude."

"Oxymoron, Marcus." Since her eyes had delivered her unspoken message, she focused on her mobile phone, texting another member of the club who was working on set-up in the auditorium.

"How so?"

"Because there's no such thing. Being a white supremacist trumps even a hint of 'cool.' But since you like him, I promise I'll try not to hate on him, conspicuously. Anyway ... what does your cousin do down there?"

"Head of security."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But I don't agree with the oxymoron stuff. Are you serious? You haven't even met the guy."

"I most certainly am serious."

"Earth to Zarah Brion! See, first of all, he's the reason we have the Freedom Center and the reason you and I both have scholarships to go to school here."

"Guilt money," she said, without blinking. "Just means he has a conscience."

"I don't believe you. Zarah, it's 2006. Ain't it about time to lighten up off of the black power thang, just a tad?"

"Why? Did somebody lighten up off the racism thang while I wasn't looking? You know. That thang that's teaching us to like being on the bottom? Racism is still alive and doing quite well, Marcus, in the new millennium."