Page 32 of Serenity
Atlas Investment Group
Colonial Holdings
Colonial Pipeline
Equinomics
Hermés Holdings
Invexco
Ramsay Realty
Solari
Trendr
After studying the short list of prospective investors, I developed a plan of action. An immediate decision was made to avoid the Ramsay Realty table. And maybe Colonial’s entities as well.
The thought of Colonial led me down a rabbit hole of its owner. The masked man. Duke claimed he would see me at the conference, but the billionaire CEO had yet to fulfill the promise. While I hated to admit it, his presence was missed.
Most of the men I’d previously dated weren’t even on the same playing field as I was. A young, successful woman with all her shit together was a rarity. Being out of a man’s league provoked further insecurities. The ones who were on equal footing were boring, arrogant, irreverent, petulant, or plain-out hoes.
That was the risk of dealing with a man with money. Their dating pool was limitless. Their options were in excess. It lowered their bar while women foolishly tolerated their misbehavior.
Men like Duke Stepford. Men who wore masks and fucked publicly at exclusive sex clubs on stage. I was having the hardest of times combining those two men. Duke in daylight and Duke after dark were two separate beings.
Undoubtedly, I lusted after him, but the possibility of other women sharing those sentiments was high. With his figures in the billions, I couldn’t deny such a possibility.
While I hoped like hell he wasn’t a hoe, my thoughts were swift in berating and deflating me. He had to be. Fucking on a stage? Performing? That fell along the lines of absolute and complete hoeness. It was the reason for the stalling. For my not calling the many numbers on his business card.
Asinine, it was thinking of a man I was vaguely acquainted with. Harboring feelings for a man I’d only met on a few occasions was beyond daft. Incomprehensible. Absolutely nonsensical. Alongside my foolish thoughts emanated an entire performance in my body. Seeing his company names on the list of investors triggered a pulse between my legs and a drumline in my chest.
Fucking ridiculous.
Tucking the drool away for a different time and day, I refocused on my environment. Keynote speakers would take the stage soon. My tardiness didn’t permit early bird networking. Armed with a welcome packet, I scanned the large room apt to locate a seat.
The current speaker, COO of Solari, droned on about the importance of continuing to build our community and fund black women. She made a distinction amongst the crowd, pointing out how few women of color were even in attendance. Awe-inspiring, her grit was something to be admired and studied. I’d already researched the company and decided they were one of my top choices for funding before the conference. Immediately after hearing the woman speak, I asterisked Solari on the list of investors as a table I wanted to visit.
An hour’s intermission permitted companies to connect with business owners in a separate parlor where tables were set up. Skirting past Ramsay, I strutted my way through a sea of eager entrepreneurs toward Solari’s table.
Chest out, head high, and voice carrying my introduction was made. After thirty minutes of chatter about my portfolio and the success of the spa, I scheduled a date for three weeks out to meet with Solari’s investment team.
Excitement reigned in my bones. I was on my first choice’s radar. It was exactly what I hoped to accomplish before leaving the two-day conference. As I made my way around the parlor, a growing crowd of business owners lingered near Colonial Holdings. The increasing herd captured my attention.
One foot ahead of the other, I strutted en route to the restroom. Vanity was my objective: to refresh my lipstick during intermission. A peep at the Colonial table didn’t immediately reveal anything of note aside from the flock of following sheep. Still, the curious cat in me longed to know what the hype was about. Upon return from the bathroom, I’d spin around the parlor to make the distinction for myself.
“Miss?”
I heard the call, issuing no response in return. There was so much noise emanating from the parlor that the voice could have been addressing anyone.
“Ma’am?”
A pat on my shoulder caused me to turn in the direction of the source.
“Yes?”
The polite usher smiled and swallowed. “Do you have your name tag? Confirmed paid entry to the event is required in the form of your tag. We also encourage attendees to wear it visibly as it helps with networking.”