Sky's The Limit

xxvi

twenty six | ishaan

"Yo, what's up, Chanelle?" I greeted.

"Hey, guys," she absent-mindedly responded, typing away on the bulky computer that resided in front of her.

I leaned onto the front desk while Tony placed our brand new demo on top of the growing pile of drop-offs.

"Any good news for us?" Tony inquired while I peered over to see what was keeping her attention.

"'Fraid not, y'all. Uh! Get back," she pushed my shoulder, urging me off of her desk. I kissed my teeth while she readjusted the placard with her name and title.

Chanelle Watson, receptionist.

"You be holdin' out on us, B," I said.

"Nigga, you see where I work. I ain't in the mix like that. I just inform people when their meeting appointments are here— something of which you two never are," she popped her gum.

"Not yet," I corrected just before the phone at her desk began ringing.

Tony and I stood quiet while she adapted her voice to the setting. "Eudora Records, this is Chanelle speaking. How may I help you?"

We glanced around as if we hadn't been here a multitude of times before.

The white walls and marble floors. The tall ceilings and gold plated elevator doors. The chrome letters hanging over Chanelle: EUDORA.

Tony took out some candy he'd been saving in his pocket, pouring the dime sized sweets into his palm before indulging.

"Yo, give me some," I stuck my hand out.

He kissed his teeth. "Beggin' ass."

The receiver clattered upon Chanelle hanging up the phone. "Look, I like y'all. A'ight? Y'all are a sight for a sore eyes, and I'm sure your tapes are dope, but if I had it like that, I damn sure wouldn't be sittin' here, talkin' to y'all right now."

Tony handed me his pouch of candy and leaned against the desk. "Nah, we understand, Nelle. We just figured you'd be able to hear a lil' somethin'. Put some clues together between phone calls and hallway talk, you know."

I ate a fistful of candy before reaching into my pocket. I thumbed through a couple of dollar bills before reclaiming my spot next to Tony.

Chanelle did not look entertained, staring blankly at the both of us before turning her attention back to her computer.

"Chanelle, come on. Help us out," I was smacking on sweet and sour treats while dangling about $25 in her face.

She didn't look impressed.

Tony didn't either, asking that she give us a moment to talk.

He pulled me aside. "Yo, have a bit more tact, a'ight?"

"It ain't my fault, she ain't tryna' be twenty-five dollars richer," I shrugged.

"Just wait here. Watch how it's done, Superstar," he smirked before approaching the front desk once again.

"Whatever, yo," I poured another handful of candy.

"Nelle, we know you're a busy woman. I mean— it's a miracle you even give us the time that you do, you know what I'm sayin'? And, we're grateful for that," he began.

"Mm-hmm."

"You keep this whole shit runnin', but these white folks prolly take you for granted, huh? They don't even realize how hard you work to keep this shit afloat," he shook his head.