I don’t want to resent her new relationship, but it’s changed everything.
I should be happy for her-and I am.
She’s in love, and I’ve never seen her so aglow.
It’s amazing.
But I feel totally shut out of her life now.
At least at the beginning of the relationship, she would share all the gory details.
Now I get nothing.
“Hey, chica,” my boss Caroline beckons me back to the office, where her wife Jan is waiting.
I greet them both.
Caroline is a petite, white spitfire-barely over five feet-and the fiercest and most loving woman I’ve ever met.
Her wife, Jan is tall, black, and slender with a close-cropped afro.
These two are like second and third moms to me.
They co-own the cafe.
Jan is a Legal Aid lawyer, and Caroline runs this place full-time.
They’ve staged many a revolution within these walls over the last thirty years.
“We’re meeting with Jamie, right?”
I ask.
Jamie is the whistle-blower from Sentience.
“Yes, she’s running late,” Jan says.
I have a flicker of unease at that-Jamie isn’t the sort to be late to a meeting.
She’s a starched shirt sort of person.
But it’s probably nothing.
I’m just a little nervous-the drive I procured from Sentience is burning a hole in my satchel.
“First, I’ve got something for you,” Caroline is rummaging around in the coat closet.
“Well, you and Madi.”
My heart contracts a little at my best friend’s name.
The pain surprises me.
It’s not like Madi has died.
She’s just busy.
Too busy for me.
“Ta da!”
Caroline whirls around, holding up a gorgeous turquoise-colored jacket.
“Are you serious?”
I move closer to study the jacket.
It’s made of leather, and cropped, but in an older style with wide lapels.
“This is amazing.
It looks just like-“
“Janet Jackson circa Rhythm Nation?”
Caroline makes the jacket boogie while singing part of the chorus.
“Yes!”
She hands it to me, and I hold it up, admiring it.
It’s in pretty good shape but obviously has been worn before.
“Is this…vintage?”
Caroline and Jan both shudder.
“I hate that word.”
Caroline points to me.
“One day your clothes will be considered vintage, and you’ll cringe too.
This is second hand,” she emphasizes.
“For you!
For the next time you and Madi play at All Night.”
I take the jacket and hold it up to me.
“Oh my God, I’m obsessed.”
“Rhythm Nation came out in 1989,” Jan points out, ever attentive to detail.
“So culturally you’re pushing into the 90s.”
“It still counts.”
Caroline waves a hand.
“And it’s Janet Jackson.”
“
Miss Jackson if you’re nasty,” Jan sings, and for a moment, I can imagine her out of her lawyer suit and in a leather lieutenant hat.
She once showed up to karaoke dressed like Grace Jones on the cover of Nightclubbing, so I know she probably has a closet full of club outfits herself.
“I also have these.”
Caroline produces a pair of white go-go boots.
“If you and Madi want to add a little Nancy Sinatra to your set.”
“Oh wow,” I laugh.
“Why not?
Can I borrow these?”
“Keep them,” Caroline says at the same time Jan says, “They’re yours.”
“Are you sure?”
I ask.
“You’re not going to want them back to wear?
You know, just for a night on the town?”
I waggle my brows at Caroline, who grins.
Jan snorts.
“Those days are over.”
“Well, anytime you want them back for karaoke or something, say the word.”
I gather up the amazing jacket and go-go boots, imagining the outfits I could wear on stage.
I’ll show them to Madi on Thursday.
Jamie turns up, and the mood turns sober.
She looks more haggard than when I first met her, with dark circles under her eyes.
Her clothes are rumpled, too.
Whistleblowing is stressful, and on top of that, she hasn’t found a new job.
Even if Sentience hasn’t retaliated further, she must be lying awake at night wondering what will happen next.
“Here’s the hard drive.”
I produce the computer drive from my satchel and put it in the center of the round work table.
This back office is where Jan works weekends and evenings, and this table has also been the planning ground for at least a hundred social protests, starting long before I picked up a marker and created my first protest sign.
“What is this?”
Jan asks.
Jamie picks it up.
“This is a copy of my work computer’s hard drive.
From this, I can produce all the evidence you need.”
Jan looks between me and Jamie.
“But how did you get it?”
I shrug.
“I might have stopped by her old office while I was painting a mural for Sentience.”
Jan’s eyes widen.
“You know I can’t use anything obtained illegally as evidence in a trial, right?”
“Then we can send it over to the
New York Times,” I point out.
“But you can’t use it in a lawsuit?”
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