James played back phone messages received while he was out. The first was from Sonya, confirming their date for later that evening. He had met her a week earlier at a friend’s party, drawn to her high cheekbones, black hair that nearly reached down to her waist, and large opal eyes. She came from a wealthy Indonesian family, worked in corporate law, and was not the most riveting conversationalist. Nor did he relish the fact that she was a vegan. An ex-girlfriend of his had been committed to avoiding meat and a number of other culinary categories at all costs. The instructions she gave wait staff to make certain her dish passed muster often took a full five minutes to issue. This detracted from James’ enjoyment of his own meal, which much to Aisha’s dismay he preferred red blooded.
Sonya had as many minuses going for her as pluses. Nevertheless, he elected to follow up on what had been started when he crossed the room to introduce himself to the exotic looking woman bathing in moon beams shining through the patio door.
Fantasizing about the best case scenario of his upcoming date with Sonya was interrupted by the second message. It was left by his brother Craig, brief as usual, reminding him that he would be dropping by at three o’clock. Glancing at his watch, James saw that the appointed hour was twenty minutes away. He knew why Craig had 16 invited himself over, for he had done it often enough in the past, always with the same motivation - to hit his little brother up for cash.
Craig was older by three years and less responsible by as many decades. Refusing to suffer the indignity of settling down at a stable job, he opted to invest in one get rich quick scheme after another. Whenever he was short of the necessary capital, usually due to some team not covering the spread, James was the preferred bank from which he withdrew. Craig was good about paying him back once his finances were back in the black. He would promise that this would be the last time, for his latest plan was foolproof and guaranteed to set him up for life. When things failed to work out it was disappointing, but to him, the risks he took handily beat working nine to five for a living.
The final message was from his best friend who had relocated to Santa Barbara about a year ago. Their childhood was spent roaming the streets of the Bronx together, and for almost as far back as he could remember, Marcus had been talking about heading out to California someday. His master plan was to start his own hedge fund. Once it was up and running and raking in serious money, he hoped to bring James on board, reuniting the two Musketeers.
James decided to wait until after his brother’s visit to return the call. Shooting the breeze with Marcus would put him in a great mood entering his date with Sonya.
After pouring a snifter of brandy, he stood by the windows that wrapped around his apartment. His 17 vantage point from the 30th floor placed a generous portion of the city within sight. Once the sun went down, countless lights transformed Manhattan into a gigantic Christmas tree.
James had done well for himself career wise, and his magazine layout worthy apartment with photogenic view was just one of the perks of success. He had always been dissatisfied with any grade less than an A, with any game that did not result in victory, with any goal, regardless of size and urgency that failed to be achieved. Lately his professional ascendancy felt stalled, frustration mounting due to others being rewarded for inferior results while his were overlooked. He was compelled to wonder if he had gone as far as a black man would be allowed to by his current employer. It wasn’t as if he was one of many African Americans who worked there. He stood out like a drop of ink floating in a bucket of milk.
He was not predisposed to cast blame on racism or any other ism for what failed to go his way. Instead of making excuses, he refused to come up short. This mindset had been instilled by strong willed parents. They planted the seed and then fostered his passion to excel by enrolling him in private schools rather than poorly funded public ones where it was easier to drift into bad habits. He grew accustomed at an early age to environments where his smooth brown complexion was darker than the vast majority of his peers. He did not feel uncomfortable in such settings, for he recognized them as the places he needed to be. Nevertheless, there was a part of him which could not help but feel like a stranger in a strange land. He managed 18 to forget the differences between him and classmates and colleagues for long stretches of time, but inevitably, something or someone would remind him that they did exist.
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