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“No, Cameron, don’t.”
I ignore her objection, unwilling to swallow my ire at the company who made Kenya second-guess her talent.
There are five people at the table, two of which look like teenage interns rather than full-time staff. The other three are two white men and a white woman.
“Hello, are you an animator, viewer, or both?” one of the men asks.
I bypass his question for one of my own. “I’m interested to know if it is your practice to leave people hanging when you say you’ll be in touch.”
Shock and confusion fill their faces.
“Cameron, this isn’t necessary. I don’t need you fighting my battles for me.” Kenya tugs on my arm.
Anger radiates from my body, but her reasoning penetrates the fog clouding my mind. I relax my stance. “You’re right. Maybe it’s for the best. They don’t deserve your talent anyway. Let’s go, Kenya.”
We turn to leave, my arm again around Kenya’s shoulders.
“Wait.” The woman from the studio circles the table, causing us to pause. “Are you Kenya Collins?”
We turn to face her.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“I was worried this would happen. My name is Lindsey and I head the newly created acquisitions for adaptation department. I now sign the deals we want to adapt for the big and small screen. Someone was supposed to reach out to explain things to you. Do you mind if we find a quiet place to talk?”
Kenya glances at me and I nod, releasing her from my hold. “Not at all, though I’m not sure if there is such a thing here.”
“We have a small conference room reserved for real time interviews. Follow me.”
I follow behind the ladies and ignore the daggers from the men at the table. They deserve to be called out for their bullshit. I wait outside the doors while Kenya and the Lindsey woman talk. Almost forty-five minutes pass before the doors to the conference room open.
The moment Kenya exits, I grab her shoulders to study her features. Her eyes are wide and her pupils are dilated. I glance toward Lindsey who meets my eyes.
“Ms. Collins needs a few minutes to absorb everything we discussed.” She turns to Kenya. “This time I’ll make sure my people don’t drop the ball. I’ll wait to hear from you.”
Kenya blinks and comes to herself. “Yes, I’ll make sure to respond once I get everything.”
“I take it this was great news.”
“Amazing! The best. I can’t wait to tell someone. Wait, you’re someone.” She takes my hand and leads me to the bar. “We should have time before the contest for one celebratory drink.”
“I’m game, but more curious. What happened in that room?”
“They loved my concept, said it was fresh. They even checked out my online series.” She turns to the bartender and orders two glasses of champagne.
“That’s great, but why couldn’t she have said that before?”
“They love everything, but there are still some roadblocks they have to figure out before they can sign me as the producer.”
“Such as…”
“My series will be the first all black series they produce. They want a staff that will be as authentic to the story as me, the creator. So they’re shopping around for a big name voice talent who fits the demographic and other black animators to work on the project.”
“You must be relieved.”
“I’m still in shock but in a good shock.”
The bartender arrives with our drinks and we toast each other. As our eyes meet, the time feels more momentous than a celebratory drink. Without tasting the alcohol, I’m already drunk on Kenya and her happiness. This is my dream for her, for all her days to be giddy and fulfilling.
