This a fictional story. This is book one of a trilogy. Nia Long and Janelle Monae explore a different relationship out of the one they establish. Janelle Monae (28) is a graduate student who starts as an intern, Nia Long (42) is the founder and CEO...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Today is the day I start my internship. The interview process was long and hard, but I'm confident I'll do well. Spending a year working with a Fortune 500 media company led by a black woman. A black woman—that's right, I have spent the past two weeks learning all about her rise to the top. Owning a tech company called BlaxTech Inc. by the age of 27 and has filled it over the years with many brown, melanated, talented people.
Walking up the concrete steps leading to the big glass doors, I take in a solid breath as I grab the handle. The crisp, cool air meets my skin, sending a shiver through my body.
I walk through the lobby to the security desk by the main elevators that are facing each other in a hallway.
"Good morning. I'm Janelle Monae. I'm interning at BlaxTech, Inc." I said to the security. He looks at me before reaching for the phone.
"You are good to go; they'll give you your badge when you get up there." "You are taking the elevator to the 40th floor." I nod at him as I make my way to the turnstile. I wait for it to turn green and make my way to the elevator button.
I look around the elevator corridor, admiring the touches. I look at the lighting on the ceiling and the tiles on the walls. I think to myself, I could get use to working in a place like this once I graduate. After spending enough time admiring everything, I have yet to press the button.
Walking to the button, I hear the clacking of heels on the granite floors, distracting me again from making my way up.
The red pumps glide across the brown and cream porcelain tiles, capturing my attention. They have a mid-length garadine pencil skirt sitting just above their waist and a crisp, freshly ironed white button-up top neatly tucked in their skirt.
My eyes follow her as I see the back of her head. She presses the button and remains standing in front of me. A jet-black low ponytail with soft curls, pieces intentionally left out, covered the side of her face.
The elevator door opens, and she makes her way in. I can finally take a look at who this sexy, mysterious woman is; her turn was sophisticated and sharp.
Our eyes pair, and I get a glimpse of my boss. She smirks, pressing the button and shaking her head as the door closes.
I rush to press the button, hoping I don't miss my chance to get on the elevator. I hope I moved quickly enough.
The elevator has already made its way up; I wait eagerly for the next one.
I had no idea how she would look in person, and the pictures I've seen do not do her justice.
I get on the next elevator, remembering the instructions from security. I look at my watch on my wrist, reading the time: 7:47 a.m.
"Shit, how the fuck did I blow off 17 minutes?" I said it out loud in an empty elevator.
