Page 26 of The Don’s Virgin Obsession

I set my phone down and smirked. Sade being at the expo was perfect. Business hours, that’s when she wanted to talk to me, so I was going to try my hand again.

Sade

“I stayed focused… even when I felt him before I saw him.”

Iwas out early on a Saturday at The Vanguard Development & Design Expo, setting up my booth. I hated doing events, hated being put on the spot. I had social anxiety and was introverted, but if I wanted to gain clients, I had to be on the scene.

So, I was here setting up with Laila while practicing my tone, my smile, and my patience. Last event I went to, a white woman made me go viral, saying I was rude, wasn’t smiling, and “acting frustrated.” And I was, and that situation had me not wanting to do another, but here I was, ready to redeem myself.

“Don’t let these people stress you out. We got a full team this year. You can stay in the background,” Laila assured me.

I turned up my nose. “And they will complain about that.” My nerves had my palms sweaty.

“Fuck them. You didn’t miss a penny after that video. You’ve made six figures eight times since then.”

I sighed. “You’re right.”

Two hours later, we were set up, and the doors to the convention opened. At least 30K people were in the building, and my nerves were through the roof. Laila was trying to get me to play the background, but I started to open up as time went by. While my team worked the booth, I stepped out and passed out business cards with a smile.

“You’re doing good, bestie. I see you,” Laila cheered me on.

“Thank you. How’s the new client list?” I asked.

“It’s going… slow, but we got this,” she told me truthfully.

Shit had been slow, so I was hoping we would get ten new clients before leaving.

At that moment, the MC announced the upcoming panelists. That’s when I was reminded that Vaughn was somewhere in the building.

“Panelists Vaughn St. Clair, Jessica Reed, and Larry Fisherman are coming to stage 6,” the MC announced.

I looked around, and stage 6 was in eyesight. Laila came and brought me a plate of wings, a slice of double pepperoni pizza, and a grape soda. Everything I didn’t need but ate anyway. I stepped back in the booth to eat and listen to the panel.

“Look at him, actin’ like he ain’t fuck Alana,” Laila said as we watched Vaughn from our booth, debating about the real estate crashing in Los Angeles.

“She said he spit in her mouth and she liked it.” I shook my head and bit my pizza.

“Of course she liked it. But I heard through the grapevine he spit in all girls’ mouths and call them fine shit,” Laila added.

I continued to shake my head. “Disgusting.”

Laila laughed. “Stop acting like you won’t let him do it to you.”

I turned up my nose. “Never. Now pass me that ranch and peppers. How do you give me dry wings?”

She laughed.

As I sat there eating, I listened to his tone, watched his demeanor, and saw that he knew what he was talking about. He was professional, yet cocky, and I could tell the woman he was debating with wasn’t feeling it.

It was time for them to close out, and the host asked what his last words were.

“I just think developers, especially African Americans, should put their money where their mouth is and help build our communities instead of taking from our people.”

The crowd clapped, the panel ended, so it was back to networking.

It was three hours into the event with one more hour left, but we kept pushing. As I was talking to a potential client, I saw Vaughn walking up. When he approached me, he stood a couple of feet away from us while I finished up.

“Thank you for considering me, and I will be in touch next week,” I told the woman.