worked for Mr. Colson? Those affect our pocketbooks and how far we can go, not based on our performance, but based on something as superficial as our hair.”
“Several of the women indicated managers told them their hairstyle was ‘too black,’” Chelle says. “What do you say to that?”
“I think comments like those, expectations like those, are the reason we need legislation like the CROWN Act.”
“And for those who may not know, what’s the CROWN Act?”
“It’s legislation designed to combat discrimination against people of color for wearing natural or protective hairstyles. This is a form of racial injustice with measurable economic consequences. CROWN stands for Create a Respectful and Open Workplace for Natural Hair.”
“California was the first state to pass it, right?”
“Yes, and other states have followed. Hopefully, at some point, we’ll have federal legislation. Too many of us are working in environments where just being who we are goes against some written or unwritten company policy. Simply being myself is an act of resistance.” I tsk. “But I must say it is discouraging to hear that someone running for governor perpetuated these practices. We need leaders who represent all people and respect the traditions and customs of all their voters, not just those who look like them.”
I stare into the camera and hope Colson, Ruiz, and that damn Anthony are all watching.
“For black and brown girls, the world is full of sharp edges, and with every step forward, we risk being cut,” I say. “We have enough to worry about. Our hair shouldn’t be a hazard. Our hair shouldn’t be an impediment to success. We need candidates who understand that. Who understand us. I hope the state of Georgia has other candidates to choose from. Someone besides Mr. Colson.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ezra
I’m covering a steaming pot of pho when the doorbell rings. Probably Kimba. She texted from the Uber fifteen minutes ago. When I open the door, I can barely restrain myself from kissing her right on the porch. She’s still wearing the blue jumpsuit from the CNN spot. Her hair is huge, coiling all around her beautiful face in a careful chaos. Her makeup is flawless, and that is the first thing I want to change. Getting her out of her clothes is the second.
I tug her in, close the door and cage her against it right away.
“What took you so long?” I ask, bending to kiss her lightly on the lips. “Like it’s hard being gorgeous on CNN while speaking truth to power.”
She giggles and reaches up to plunge her fingers into my hair. “You watched?”
“You were fantastic. I knew you would be.”
“I stuttered in the beginning.”
“I didn’t even notice.”
She searches my face and grins. “Liar.”
“It didn’t matter and it didn’t detract one bit from how powerful you were. Knowing how you struggled with that in the past, seeing it growing up, and then seeing you now, I’m amazed. Do you even realize how incredible it is that you fight those fears off to follow your dreams? The fact that you do things like that, put yourself in situations you know make you uncomfortable and shine that way makes you more of a badass than if it came easily to you.”
She blinks up at me, her eyes sobering. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“That’s why you should keep me around,” I whisper, dusting kisses along the tops of her breasts exposed by the jumpsuit’s low neckline. “That and I promise to do this every chance I get.”
I slip a finger inside the jumpsuit and coax one nipple out of hiding. The erotic sight of her plump breast makes my mouth water instantly. I take it between my lips, groaning at the soft texture, the stiff button against my tongue. I suckle gently at first, my dick going hard at the moans that slip out of her. Then my hands slide down to palm her full ass, and I suck so hard my cheeks hollow.
“Ezra.” She bangs one hand against the door. “Keep doing that. I love it when you suck my tits.”
She reaches between us, finding my dick and grabbing it, stroking me through my jeans. I choke, pulling my mouth away from her breast to draw a deep breath. I run frantic hands over her back and sides, hungry to see all of her.
“Dammit,” I growl, close to coming just from her touch. “How the hell do I get this thing off you?”
Shit. My dick is a slab of concrete and my balls feel heavy.
“Help me get this damn thing off you, Tru.” I trace the curve of her waist, the plane of her back searching for a zipper, a button, a peephole, some way in and off. “How do you pee wearing this thing?”
Panting, laughing, she slides one shoulder out of the jumpsuit, exposing a lacy bra barely containing her breast. I take her tit into my mouth, sucking through the cup of silk and lace. She wiggles until the other sleeve slides down her arm, the top flopping over. I plunge my hand down the waistband and cup her pussy through her panties. She’s soaked and my hand is wet between her thighs. I drop my head so our temples kiss, and I turn my nose into a cloud of fragrant curls.
“I want to taste your pussy again, but I also want to fuck you immediately. It’s a conundrum.”