Page 1 of Mr. Blackwood

1 – CAMILLA VALENTINE

“Craig, would you please move that stack of boxes to that far wall? Riann, what time are the movers scheduled to arrive?” I asked.

“They will be here at eight,” Riann Gaines, my executive assistant replied. She fluttered around the room like a butterfly and checked the labels on the box. Every now and then she pulled an ink pen from her tidy bun of braids and chewed on it thoughtfully before she tucked it away again.

The lease was up on my office space, and the building’s management was not renewing leases. They were transitioning the old building into a mixed use space of residential loft apartments and retail space. They had collaborated with some real estate developers to transition the entire area into a live, work, shop, play area.

I had been stressed for the last six months about where my little crew would go, but I’d lucked out and found prime real estate space in downtown Atlanta. The commute from my home in Decatur, Georgia wouldn’t change by much. It was roughly the same distance from my three-bedroom, two-bathroom house in Decatur to my midtown office as it was from home to the new downtown office. I was excited because there was more opportunity for growth for my magazine, ColorMe CEO.

My magazine featured articles about regional corporations and CEOS in the southeastern United States. I wanted to expand it to a national reach, and the opportunity had recently been presented for me to do just that.

I looked around at the crew who was assembled in the office with me. Other than my executive assistant, there were six more people assisting with the move: my best friend, Shana McIntyre; my two full-time reporters, Brittany “Britt” Anderson and Solomon Knowles; my marketing and sales associates, Patrick Jones and Craig Arrow; and Valencia “Val” Wright, my editor.

“You’ve been in this building for five years. You worked at the newspaper here, and you started your own publication here. How do you feel about leaving?” Shana wore a pouty look as though she could sense my distress. She was a graphic designer, and I often used her as a consultant for the magazine.

“I’ll be the first to admit that it’s bittersweet. It was a hard blow when the newspaper went out of business, but I bounced back. Taking my savings and starting up the magazine was a scary choice, but it was the best one I’ve ever made. I’ll miss this place. There are a lot of memories here, and I made plenty of friends, but it’s time to move on,” I answered with a shrug and a nostalgic smile.

“I’m proud of you, girl,” Shana stated. She wrapped an arm around me, squeezed me to her, and kissed my cheek before I shoved her away.

“Girl, get away from me with all that,” I grumbled.

I wasn’t an affectionate person, but Shana was. She knew that I wasn’t good at mushy stuff, so getting me to talk about my feelings and displaying affection was a bit much, especially when it happened in front of my staff.

“You know you love me,” she teased as my staff laughed at us.

“Whatever. Anyway, this is a great opportunity for us to grow in the new building. We’ll have more space to hire more staff.”

“The greater opportunity is our connection with Sullivan Investments,” Patrick spoke up as he dropped down onto a table edge.

“Are they serious about investing in us?” Solomon asked.

“They are. We just need to be able to pull off the interview they’re requesting to show that we have national appeal. I won’t lie; it won’t be easy snagging an interview with Jabari Blackwood, but if we can pull that off . . .” I whistled and everyone nodded their understanding.

“Not only will Sullivan Investments give us the money we need to grow and hire more staff, but we will have easier access to Fortune Five Hundred execs that we don’t have access to now,” I explained.

“No one’s ever been able to gain that type of access to do a feature on Jabari Blackwood. I’m not certain how we, a fledgling local magazine, will be able to do it,” Britt pronounced, scrunching her nose and turning her lips down.

“With that type of thinking, we won’t be able to,” I commented sharply.

“I’m just saying. My bad, though,” Britt apologized, throwing her hands up.

“We all need to make gaining that interview our primary focus once we’re settled in the new building. Solomon and Britt, I want you both to change your stories to ones that focus on a broader national appeal. Riann, I need you to search for writers, photographers, and experts from other regions who would diversify our perspective and then schedule them for interviews. Patrick, switch our marketing strategy to a wider, broader appeal, including the hashtags and digital distribution.

“Craig, you need to partner with Comag to get our print copies on national bookstore chain shelves and retail hubs. You also need to find a way to get bulk multi-user digital access passes into the hands of corporate HR and communications departments at national companies besides the Southeast. I’ll work with national PR firms that represent Fortune 500 execs to try to lock-in cover features for the magazine. We need some leaders the people really want to hear from. We need to restructure our columns too.”

“How so?” Val asked.

“By industry rather than geographic like we’ve been doing,” I replied.

“So, you’re thinking tech, manufacturing, and finance?” she asked.

“Exactly. We need to do whatever it takes to get a story out of him,” I explained.

Riann stopped pacing and turned to look at me. “Have you seen him? I heard that he gives Travis Cure vibes, and he’s the sexiest, most eligible black billionaire out there. I would get with that.”

Britt laughed loudly and clapped. “Now that’s a taboo age gap if I’ve ever seen one. Girl, you’re twenty-six, and I heard that man is in his forties.”

Val smacked her lips. “Taboo or not, age gap me, baby. From the way I’ve heard he looks and is built, that’s a BILF.”