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The Power Of Numbers
Here's a link to an article related to writing my first novel!
http://www.vita1017.com/quency-philli...
http://www.vita1017.com/quency-philli...
First Chapter
Chapter One
“For real? Right now?”, Numbers whispered strongly into his phone.
“I’ll hit you in 20 – say no more.”
Only Numbers could smoothly transition from corporate to corner in a heartbeat. Surrounded by the Mayor, local politicians, community leaders, family and youth, this was the day he’d always dreamed about. The day he forced change to happen.
The day that made sense.
That’s what this was about. Making sense in a senseless city. Senseless violence. Senseless politicians. Senseless changes that were masked by a shadow government. Numbers knew the math, so he counted pennies until they made sense. Today was that day.
This was his day.
A new community center built on the corner that he grew up on. The house he was raised in turned into a center for all things right. A center of all things right. He was able to smile at the reality that many years ago his father lost their house that sat on this corner. At least that’s how the story was told. But, now he stood in front of thousands of people – many of whom shouting his name. It was a proud moment. Everyone felt his power, as if he walked with his own theme music. Each step seemed choreographed to the beat that was his life. His hair was a fine mess. Tapered with a touch of edge. The moustache groomed to the point where it almost looked too perfect. The beard was mainly a shadow of what could be, yet was not. Men envied him. They just couldn’t help it. His sense of self-awareness commanded attention.
Then he spoke.
“This is for you. This is because of you.”
The crowd greeted those words with a round of applause, which cut Numbers off immediately. He smiled – coyly. Lifting his hand as to say thanks, it also brought a quiet hush to the audience assembled. A subtle show of his power and influence.
“It’s been a long time coming, but this moment marks the first time since the days of my youth that I can proudly say that this is ours. We own this. We created this. We made this possible.”
A round of amen’s could be heard as he spoke. The mixture of crowd participation made it sound like an angelic choir. The sun seemed to shine just a bit brighter. The feeling of hope provided the aroma to the air.
“This is about all of you. This is for all of the grandparents that continue to raise our babies. Grandma, you can sit down now. You can rest those feet with the comfort of knowing that your children now have a safe haven. Your children now have a place to run to, not for protection, but because they feel safe in the solitude of happiness. This block is called Prosperity.”
Right on cue, the street sign that was draped with the flag of Chicago was revealed to read, “Prosperity Avenue”.
Numbers glanced out and captured the moment that was his. He watched a tear fall silently down the right cheek of his mother’s face. He heard the cry of happiness from the elders. He felt the power of a united people that never saw this day coming. In that moment, he finally smelled success. His voice trembled as he felt the lump grow larger in his throat. He let one tear fall.
“See what y’all made me do? I’m up here crying and stuff. If my father was here…”, his voice trailed off.
Pops died not too long after Numbers graduated from Northwestern University. Almost 10 years ago, Numbers watched his father take his last breath. Cancer was a problem that even Numbers couldn’t solve. During his sophomore year, his father was diagnosed with cancer. Immediately, Numbers changed his major to biomedical engineering. He was on a quest to find a cure. Pops was his Atlas. He willingly carried the world on his shoulders for his family. For his community. For his city – he made the impossible possible. Their bond was like none other. They were identical twins separated by more than 30 years. Numbers was the second-coming of his father. Always the community leader, Pops did what he had to do to ensure that his family and his people never gave up hope. It was these thoughts that consumed Numbers as he spoke.
Numbers held back the tears.
“If my father were here, he would smile. But because he is not, I will smile for him!”
The crowd erupted again. The women seemed to be enchanted not only by his words, but by his voice. A mixture of soul, the block and the boardroom – Numbers had it. The sincerity sounded so serene. So real. So authentic. It didn’t help that he was still single. Still without a child. He worked too much for any of that. He dreamed for it, but those dreams never dated his reality. But he did long for it. For her. For a family to call his own.
“Prosperity Place will be our legacy. A city within a city. A community that raises itself. A block that is self-sufficient. Inside you will see the community center equipped with a charter school for high school aged students. Inside you will see a state-of-the-art medical center for the young and old. There’s a gym, several music and video studios. An organic farm and food pantry available to those that vow to keep our community safe. A museum that speaks on the history of our forefathers and elders. An auditorium that can rival the House of Blues. Everything you’ve asked for, we created. For you. Again, this is yours. This is not mine. This is the future – period – and I thank you all for allowing me to be a part of yours. Thank you, Chicago. Thank you, Pops.”
And with those final words, voices sang out. Numbers called on his celebrity friends to sing for hours on end. This was not just a block revitalized, this was a block party. Reminiscent to the days of the first years of his life. The smell of BBQ was in the air. Not a cloud in the sky, and not a frown on anyone’s face. This was the moment.
But, just like that, the moment changed. Numbers remembered the call he received 20 minutes earlier. It was an urgent matter that needed to be tended to. Looking at his phone, he found “147”.
See, Numbers was a numbers man. That’s how he got his name. Aside from his family, everyone was referred to as a number. Numbers spoke to him in ways that names couldn’t. He was never good with names, but he was always great with faces and numbers. It was a skill picked up from following his father around as a youngster. He had a love of math, and could easily do complicated problems in his head. He was known for that, which was rare in the hood that he grew up in. Being smart wasn’t always appreciated. Being cool was the thing to be. Numbers found a way to be both. Local gang members always dapped him up when they saw him. They knew Numbers was different. They knew if anyone was going to make it out of the hood, it would be Numbers. They kept money in his pocket as long as he continued to do well in school and sports. To them, he was a jewel – a precious jewel. He was the one puzzle piece that never really made sense, but always found a way into the grander scheme of things. So, they made sure he was always protected and shielded from the life everyone else was forced to live. Numbers always knew that, though, because he knew his block. He knew his peoples. They always said he had “been here before”, and some days Numbers felt that way, too. As much as they pushed him away, he pushed back. He wanted to help them. He wanted them to be smarter with the decisions they made. Numbers watched everyone. He knew the cadences. He knew the signs. He knew his people. For him, it all changed at the age of 8. The day he met 147.
“So what’s the issue?”, Numbers spoke intently into the phone.
“Shit got bad, fam, real bad. I…I…I don’t know what to do.”, 147’s voice trailed off with a hint of nervousness.
“Ninja, you ain’t sayin’ shit!”, Numbers said as if he was speaking while grinding his teeth. “Speak up, I don’t have time for this shit today. None. At. All.”,
Numbers quickly felt tense as he screamed at one of his closest childhood friends.
“It wasn’t my fault…”, he said, but Numbers quickly cut him off. “Are you about to give me an excuse, ninja? You can’t be serious right now. Spit that shit out… NOW!”
“She – I mean – 78 got caught up. We just got word that Feds have 78 on payroll. It doesn’t make sense, but The Paper just got hit.”, explained 147. “The Paper? How bad?”, Numbers seemed caught off-guard with that news. Ignoring 78, he was more concerned with one of the first businesses he set-up in honor of his sister.
She was the writer in the family. Writing books at 4 years old, and to Numbers, she was the smartest in the family. She was his baby sister, but he acted like she was his baby. They were separated by 9 years, which made him feel prepared to watch over her. He changed her diapers, he fed her, he sometimes slept in the same bed as her to make sure she was safe. They had a bond like none other, and everyone that came near them felt it. Those were the happiest days of his life. She gave him a purpose when the world couldn’t provide enough. Even now, when Numbers is in a bad place, mentally, he recalls those days of his youth. Those moments of pure joy and solitude with his baby sis. Those – were the days.
“The feds came in with a search warrant, and the place is locked down now. I’m down the block from there now, watching them load boxes into their cars.”, said 147. “Since when did they start driving H2’s?”, 147 asked Numbers. That brought a smile to his face. In that moment, with just those words, Numbers knew all was well.
“Fall back, 147, I’ll take it from here. No need to worry, come celebrate with us here. For once in our lives, the south side is the place to be.”, Numbers said, smiling with each word uttered.
Suddenly, Numbers felt a tug on his blazer. “Mista Powas?”. The voice was tender. Numbers turned around and looked down to see an adorable young girl. She had to be no older than 6. The way she said “Mr. Powers” was – in a word – innocent. Her eyelashes met his eyes, and instantly he melted. “And who might you be?”, Numbers spoke, kneeling down to met her on her level. “My name is Zelema, but everyone calls me Zip.” Numbers was in her trance, ironically. Her voice was so pure, so – peaceful. Her hair was styled in long flowing natural curls. Her eyes were hazel, but at times looked blue. Her complexion was a caramel hue. She was beautiful in the purest sense of the word.
“How can I help you Zelema?”, Numbers loved her name, repeating it inside of his head so he wouldn’t forget. At this moment, he was on bended knee, his eyes in line with hers. Zip smiled and said, “Can we go to the playroom?”. She had him – he was lost in her world. It was as if he forgot about all of the people standing around him vying for his attention. He slowly rose up and reached out his hand. She grabbed his pinky. “I would love nothing more than to take you there. Where are your parents?”, Numbers instantly snapped back into reality looking around to see if her parents were nearby. “My mommy is over there.”, she said pointing towards the grill. She seemed so grown.
Almost perfectly planned, Zip’s mother came running towards them both. “Zip!”, she said frantically. She was more nervous than upset. She ignored Numbers. Her eyes focused intently on her daughter holding another man’s pinky. “Why did you run off?”, she exclaimed. “I told you about running off by yourself. You nearly gave me a heart-attack!” Zip started to respond, but Numbers spoke before she could say anything.
“I’m sorry, allow me to introduce myself…”, the words flowed through a smile that started to form. “Mr. Powers, no need, we ALL know who you are. Thank you for all that you are doing for us,” she said. The smile never left Numbers’ face. His eyes never left hers, and he didn’t allow hers to leave his. “It’s not fair that you know mine and I don’t know yours,” he said. “Your daughter is as beautiful as her name. You’ve raised quite a young one, Mrs….,” he held out his hand, expecting her to fill in the obvious blank. “Mrs., I mean, Ms. Peters,” she was caught in his trance as well, dropping her plate of food. “No worries, I’ll get that for you”, and as he started to reach down, 50 appeared – having been watching them the entire time.
50 was one of the few personal assistants Numbers had. Sharply dressed, he picked up the food and asked Ms. Peters if he could get her another plate. She was in awe, and knew that he was part of Numbers’ staff by the lapel pin on his jacket. She nodded in agreement, and politely smiled. “Always on time, 50, always on time,” said Numbers with a quick pat on 50’s back. All the while, Ms. Peters was staring at Numbers with the hint of infatuation. The man was gorgeous, she thought to herself. Numbers was dressed sharply, and she willingly followed his fashionable trail. A pair of light brown Ermenegildo Zegna shoes with a hint of orange were on his feet. He wore Levi raw denim blue jeans that met his laces perfectly. He wore a custom-fitted Ike Behar off-white button-up with rich chocolate stripes. His blazer was custom as well. Tanish brown, with brown leather trimming around the cuffs of the sleeves. The inside lining of the blazer was an orange cream complexion – which set the entire outfit in motion. Yea, he had it.
Leave it to Zip to bring them back to reality.
“Momma, don’t they have BBQ?,” she asked. Before her mother could answer, Numbers intervened. “You know what? You can have it all! I know I’m hungry as a hostage, so I’m going to get some, too!” This brought a smile to the faces of many others who had been eavesdropping around them. “I heard your tummy”, Zip said through her laughter without missing a beat. They all laughed in unison. 50 was on his way to get food for them all. Ms. Peters was still stuck. She didn’t know what to say to the man who seemed to woo both her daughter and herself at the same time. She normally wouldn’t allow a man to talk to her daughter, let alone answer for her. Her eyes faded off – not realizing she was staring at Numbers. The glaze came over her eyes, and time stood still. She was lost in her thoughts. He was more attractive than she imagined. She thought to herself, “this man truly is a gift from God!”. A small daydream, as she looked at her man (yes, in her trance, they were suddenly a family) and her daughter.
“Paging, Ms. Peters… Paging, Ms. Peters… Earth to Mars, can you hear me?”, Numbers joked. He knew she was in la la land. “Maaaaaaa!”, Zip yelled, once again bringing her mother back to reality. “How was your trip,” Numbers asked jokingly. “You seemed to be somewhere else for a second!”, he continued to laugh. “Oh, so y’all have jokes now, huh? Frick and frack? Teaming up on me?”, a southern drawl appeared in her voice that wasn’t there before. She suddenly felt comfortable and less on edge.
As if reading her mind, Numbers asked her if she wouldn’t mind him joining them for lunch. Zelema once again grabbed his pinky, as if to remind him that she wanted to play. They had an instant connection. They all walked together towards a seating area underneath the tent. The tables all had nice linen, and the seating was reminiscent of an exclusive celebrity wedding. Numbers spared no cost for this event. They found a nice place, and 50 appeared with a selection of food. For a moment in time, they all were in their own world. Oblivious to the stares and whispers that were surely happening around them, they sat and joked for a bit. Not many got to see Numbers like this. He had a happiness to him that only those closest to him were able to witness. He spent most of his time focused on Zip. He wanted to know more. He loved her innate confidence as much as her outward beauty. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t place his finger on it.
“Mr. Powers,” the Mayor spoke. Numbers stood up to greet the mayor with a firm handshake. Numbers pulled him close as if they were best friends. “Mr. Mayor, thank you for your earlier words and coming to the dark side.” They both chuckled, although the Mayor’s laugh was less genuine. “How could I miss this? You have a way of making it hard to say no to you. Let’s talk for a minute – can we?”.
What was not lost on most was the fact that the Mayor asked Numbers if he could have a minute. Usually it’s the other way around – people asking the Mayor for his time. You saw the shift of power in their interaction – as if Numbers was the Mayor, and the Mayor was just another person looking to be heard. They both turned their backs on the guests. They walked a few paces away for a bit of privacy.
“I heard about The Paper,” said the Mayor. “I want you to know that I had nothing to do with that. Nothing at all.” Numbers laughed and said, “No worries Antonio, I have nothing to hide. Nothing can ruin this moment – this day. How about we chat about this at another time? For now, I want to keep my focus on things that truly matter – like taking Zip to the playroom!”, Numbers said the last part loud enough for Zelema to hear.
She jumped up and ran to him. He smiled, and the Mayor saw something genuine in his reaction. He also recognized the fact that Numbers quickly pawned him off. “No problem at all, Mr. Powers. It looks like you have a new best friend! Whom do I owe the pleasure?”, he said reaching down to shake Zip’s hand. As warm as she was with Numbers, Zip was not with the Mayor. Numbers noticed that immediately, and bent down to whisper something into her ear. A big smile rose on her face, and she let out a laugh that brought the spotlight onto her. Numbers picked her up, and she shyly said, “Hi, Mista Mayuh,” as only she could.
Immediately a crowd formed. Photographers appeared out of nowhere snapping pictures and capturing the moment. The Mayor was smiling – her mother was smiling – Numbers was smiling. It seemed everyone around them was drawn to this picturesque moment with Numbers and Zip. The rumors were sure to swirl. Not that it would matter to Numbers. At this point, he could run for mayor and unseat the mayor.
Pictures and moments like these are what make politicians. Numbers cared less about that, though. While many of his moves were calculated, this move – this moment sure was not. He was caught up like Ms. Peters. They met eyes once again and he turned to her, still holding Zip.
“I see you brought your camera team, huh, Ms. Peters?”, Numbers said in a jokingly quizzical manner – glancing at her in a way that his eyes said more. “Now – now, Mr. Powers. You know if you wanted my picture, there were easier ways to get one, right?”, she said, not missing a beat. She was smooth, Numbers laughed. He had no immediate comeback. Rarely does he meet someone with the wit and charm that matched his. Was this someone that could look into his eyes and make him fold? These thoughts were running through his head, but he had stalled enough.
“Oh, no worries Ms. Peters, with all of the people I employ, you don’t think that they didn’t snap a picture of you dropping your plate?”
Check. Numbers smiled – both inside and out.
Ms. Peters blushed. Her complexion was a complex blend of browns. Caramel. Chocolate. The perfect shade of coffee with crème brulee cream. She was stunning. Then she smiled. Her lips curled in just the right way. Full. She tilted her head down. She smelled trouble and wanted to follow its’ aroma.
“Ok, you got me on that one. Well done, Mr. Powers”, she replied.
Quickly they all turned as Numbers held out his hand in the direction of the center – still holding Zip. He had a date with his new friend – Zelema. In that moment, nothing else mattered. This would be his first date in months. Instead of visions of quiet conversation and bodies touching, he was prepared for playing tag, jumping into a sea of foam, and smiling until his cheeks hurt. The perfect date.
“So how old are you, Ms. Zelema?” They walked until they disappeared inside Prosperity Place.
“For real? Right now?”, Numbers whispered strongly into his phone.
“I’ll hit you in 20 – say no more.”
Only Numbers could smoothly transition from corporate to corner in a heartbeat. Surrounded by the Mayor, local politicians, community leaders, family and youth, this was the day he’d always dreamed about. The day he forced change to happen.
The day that made sense.
That’s what this was about. Making sense in a senseless city. Senseless violence. Senseless politicians. Senseless changes that were masked by a shadow government. Numbers knew the math, so he counted pennies until they made sense. Today was that day.
This was his day.
A new community center built on the corner that he grew up on. The house he was raised in turned into a center for all things right. A center of all things right. He was able to smile at the reality that many years ago his father lost their house that sat on this corner. At least that’s how the story was told. But, now he stood in front of thousands of people – many of whom shouting his name. It was a proud moment. Everyone felt his power, as if he walked with his own theme music. Each step seemed choreographed to the beat that was his life. His hair was a fine mess. Tapered with a touch of edge. The moustache groomed to the point where it almost looked too perfect. The beard was mainly a shadow of what could be, yet was not. Men envied him. They just couldn’t help it. His sense of self-awareness commanded attention.
Then he spoke.
“This is for you. This is because of you.”
The crowd greeted those words with a round of applause, which cut Numbers off immediately. He smiled – coyly. Lifting his hand as to say thanks, it also brought a quiet hush to the audience assembled. A subtle show of his power and influence.
“It’s been a long time coming, but this moment marks the first time since the days of my youth that I can proudly say that this is ours. We own this. We created this. We made this possible.”
A round of amen’s could be heard as he spoke. The mixture of crowd participation made it sound like an angelic choir. The sun seemed to shine just a bit brighter. The feeling of hope provided the aroma to the air.
“This is about all of you. This is for all of the grandparents that continue to raise our babies. Grandma, you can sit down now. You can rest those feet with the comfort of knowing that your children now have a safe haven. Your children now have a place to run to, not for protection, but because they feel safe in the solitude of happiness. This block is called Prosperity.”
Right on cue, the street sign that was draped with the flag of Chicago was revealed to read, “Prosperity Avenue”.
Numbers glanced out and captured the moment that was his. He watched a tear fall silently down the right cheek of his mother’s face. He heard the cry of happiness from the elders. He felt the power of a united people that never saw this day coming. In that moment, he finally smelled success. His voice trembled as he felt the lump grow larger in his throat. He let one tear fall.
“See what y’all made me do? I’m up here crying and stuff. If my father was here…”, his voice trailed off.
Pops died not too long after Numbers graduated from Northwestern University. Almost 10 years ago, Numbers watched his father take his last breath. Cancer was a problem that even Numbers couldn’t solve. During his sophomore year, his father was diagnosed with cancer. Immediately, Numbers changed his major to biomedical engineering. He was on a quest to find a cure. Pops was his Atlas. He willingly carried the world on his shoulders for his family. For his community. For his city – he made the impossible possible. Their bond was like none other. They were identical twins separated by more than 30 years. Numbers was the second-coming of his father. Always the community leader, Pops did what he had to do to ensure that his family and his people never gave up hope. It was these thoughts that consumed Numbers as he spoke.
Numbers held back the tears.
“If my father were here, he would smile. But because he is not, I will smile for him!”
The crowd erupted again. The women seemed to be enchanted not only by his words, but by his voice. A mixture of soul, the block and the boardroom – Numbers had it. The sincerity sounded so serene. So real. So authentic. It didn’t help that he was still single. Still without a child. He worked too much for any of that. He dreamed for it, but those dreams never dated his reality. But he did long for it. For her. For a family to call his own.
“Prosperity Place will be our legacy. A city within a city. A community that raises itself. A block that is self-sufficient. Inside you will see the community center equipped with a charter school for high school aged students. Inside you will see a state-of-the-art medical center for the young and old. There’s a gym, several music and video studios. An organic farm and food pantry available to those that vow to keep our community safe. A museum that speaks on the history of our forefathers and elders. An auditorium that can rival the House of Blues. Everything you’ve asked for, we created. For you. Again, this is yours. This is not mine. This is the future – period – and I thank you all for allowing me to be a part of yours. Thank you, Chicago. Thank you, Pops.”
And with those final words, voices sang out. Numbers called on his celebrity friends to sing for hours on end. This was not just a block revitalized, this was a block party. Reminiscent to the days of the first years of his life. The smell of BBQ was in the air. Not a cloud in the sky, and not a frown on anyone’s face. This was the moment.
But, just like that, the moment changed. Numbers remembered the call he received 20 minutes earlier. It was an urgent matter that needed to be tended to. Looking at his phone, he found “147”.
See, Numbers was a numbers man. That’s how he got his name. Aside from his family, everyone was referred to as a number. Numbers spoke to him in ways that names couldn’t. He was never good with names, but he was always great with faces and numbers. It was a skill picked up from following his father around as a youngster. He had a love of math, and could easily do complicated problems in his head. He was known for that, which was rare in the hood that he grew up in. Being smart wasn’t always appreciated. Being cool was the thing to be. Numbers found a way to be both. Local gang members always dapped him up when they saw him. They knew Numbers was different. They knew if anyone was going to make it out of the hood, it would be Numbers. They kept money in his pocket as long as he continued to do well in school and sports. To them, he was a jewel – a precious jewel. He was the one puzzle piece that never really made sense, but always found a way into the grander scheme of things. So, they made sure he was always protected and shielded from the life everyone else was forced to live. Numbers always knew that, though, because he knew his block. He knew his peoples. They always said he had “been here before”, and some days Numbers felt that way, too. As much as they pushed him away, he pushed back. He wanted to help them. He wanted them to be smarter with the decisions they made. Numbers watched everyone. He knew the cadences. He knew the signs. He knew his people. For him, it all changed at the age of 8. The day he met 147.
“So what’s the issue?”, Numbers spoke intently into the phone.
“Shit got bad, fam, real bad. I…I…I don’t know what to do.”, 147’s voice trailed off with a hint of nervousness.
“Ninja, you ain’t sayin’ shit!”, Numbers said as if he was speaking while grinding his teeth. “Speak up, I don’t have time for this shit today. None. At. All.”,
Numbers quickly felt tense as he screamed at one of his closest childhood friends.
“It wasn’t my fault…”, he said, but Numbers quickly cut him off. “Are you about to give me an excuse, ninja? You can’t be serious right now. Spit that shit out… NOW!”
“She – I mean – 78 got caught up. We just got word that Feds have 78 on payroll. It doesn’t make sense, but The Paper just got hit.”, explained 147. “The Paper? How bad?”, Numbers seemed caught off-guard with that news. Ignoring 78, he was more concerned with one of the first businesses he set-up in honor of his sister.
She was the writer in the family. Writing books at 4 years old, and to Numbers, she was the smartest in the family. She was his baby sister, but he acted like she was his baby. They were separated by 9 years, which made him feel prepared to watch over her. He changed her diapers, he fed her, he sometimes slept in the same bed as her to make sure she was safe. They had a bond like none other, and everyone that came near them felt it. Those were the happiest days of his life. She gave him a purpose when the world couldn’t provide enough. Even now, when Numbers is in a bad place, mentally, he recalls those days of his youth. Those moments of pure joy and solitude with his baby sis. Those – were the days.
“The feds came in with a search warrant, and the place is locked down now. I’m down the block from there now, watching them load boxes into their cars.”, said 147. “Since when did they start driving H2’s?”, 147 asked Numbers. That brought a smile to his face. In that moment, with just those words, Numbers knew all was well.
“Fall back, 147, I’ll take it from here. No need to worry, come celebrate with us here. For once in our lives, the south side is the place to be.”, Numbers said, smiling with each word uttered.
Suddenly, Numbers felt a tug on his blazer. “Mista Powas?”. The voice was tender. Numbers turned around and looked down to see an adorable young girl. She had to be no older than 6. The way she said “Mr. Powers” was – in a word – innocent. Her eyelashes met his eyes, and instantly he melted. “And who might you be?”, Numbers spoke, kneeling down to met her on her level. “My name is Zelema, but everyone calls me Zip.” Numbers was in her trance, ironically. Her voice was so pure, so – peaceful. Her hair was styled in long flowing natural curls. Her eyes were hazel, but at times looked blue. Her complexion was a caramel hue. She was beautiful in the purest sense of the word.
“How can I help you Zelema?”, Numbers loved her name, repeating it inside of his head so he wouldn’t forget. At this moment, he was on bended knee, his eyes in line with hers. Zip smiled and said, “Can we go to the playroom?”. She had him – he was lost in her world. It was as if he forgot about all of the people standing around him vying for his attention. He slowly rose up and reached out his hand. She grabbed his pinky. “I would love nothing more than to take you there. Where are your parents?”, Numbers instantly snapped back into reality looking around to see if her parents were nearby. “My mommy is over there.”, she said pointing towards the grill. She seemed so grown.
Almost perfectly planned, Zip’s mother came running towards them both. “Zip!”, she said frantically. She was more nervous than upset. She ignored Numbers. Her eyes focused intently on her daughter holding another man’s pinky. “Why did you run off?”, she exclaimed. “I told you about running off by yourself. You nearly gave me a heart-attack!” Zip started to respond, but Numbers spoke before she could say anything.
“I’m sorry, allow me to introduce myself…”, the words flowed through a smile that started to form. “Mr. Powers, no need, we ALL know who you are. Thank you for all that you are doing for us,” she said. The smile never left Numbers’ face. His eyes never left hers, and he didn’t allow hers to leave his. “It’s not fair that you know mine and I don’t know yours,” he said. “Your daughter is as beautiful as her name. You’ve raised quite a young one, Mrs….,” he held out his hand, expecting her to fill in the obvious blank. “Mrs., I mean, Ms. Peters,” she was caught in his trance as well, dropping her plate of food. “No worries, I’ll get that for you”, and as he started to reach down, 50 appeared – having been watching them the entire time.
50 was one of the few personal assistants Numbers had. Sharply dressed, he picked up the food and asked Ms. Peters if he could get her another plate. She was in awe, and knew that he was part of Numbers’ staff by the lapel pin on his jacket. She nodded in agreement, and politely smiled. “Always on time, 50, always on time,” said Numbers with a quick pat on 50’s back. All the while, Ms. Peters was staring at Numbers with the hint of infatuation. The man was gorgeous, she thought to herself. Numbers was dressed sharply, and she willingly followed his fashionable trail. A pair of light brown Ermenegildo Zegna shoes with a hint of orange were on his feet. He wore Levi raw denim blue jeans that met his laces perfectly. He wore a custom-fitted Ike Behar off-white button-up with rich chocolate stripes. His blazer was custom as well. Tanish brown, with brown leather trimming around the cuffs of the sleeves. The inside lining of the blazer was an orange cream complexion – which set the entire outfit in motion. Yea, he had it.
Leave it to Zip to bring them back to reality.
“Momma, don’t they have BBQ?,” she asked. Before her mother could answer, Numbers intervened. “You know what? You can have it all! I know I’m hungry as a hostage, so I’m going to get some, too!” This brought a smile to the faces of many others who had been eavesdropping around them. “I heard your tummy”, Zip said through her laughter without missing a beat. They all laughed in unison. 50 was on his way to get food for them all. Ms. Peters was still stuck. She didn’t know what to say to the man who seemed to woo both her daughter and herself at the same time. She normally wouldn’t allow a man to talk to her daughter, let alone answer for her. Her eyes faded off – not realizing she was staring at Numbers. The glaze came over her eyes, and time stood still. She was lost in her thoughts. He was more attractive than she imagined. She thought to herself, “this man truly is a gift from God!”. A small daydream, as she looked at her man (yes, in her trance, they were suddenly a family) and her daughter.
“Paging, Ms. Peters… Paging, Ms. Peters… Earth to Mars, can you hear me?”, Numbers joked. He knew she was in la la land. “Maaaaaaa!”, Zip yelled, once again bringing her mother back to reality. “How was your trip,” Numbers asked jokingly. “You seemed to be somewhere else for a second!”, he continued to laugh. “Oh, so y’all have jokes now, huh? Frick and frack? Teaming up on me?”, a southern drawl appeared in her voice that wasn’t there before. She suddenly felt comfortable and less on edge.
As if reading her mind, Numbers asked her if she wouldn’t mind him joining them for lunch. Zelema once again grabbed his pinky, as if to remind him that she wanted to play. They had an instant connection. They all walked together towards a seating area underneath the tent. The tables all had nice linen, and the seating was reminiscent of an exclusive celebrity wedding. Numbers spared no cost for this event. They found a nice place, and 50 appeared with a selection of food. For a moment in time, they all were in their own world. Oblivious to the stares and whispers that were surely happening around them, they sat and joked for a bit. Not many got to see Numbers like this. He had a happiness to him that only those closest to him were able to witness. He spent most of his time focused on Zip. He wanted to know more. He loved her innate confidence as much as her outward beauty. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t place his finger on it.
“Mr. Powers,” the Mayor spoke. Numbers stood up to greet the mayor with a firm handshake. Numbers pulled him close as if they were best friends. “Mr. Mayor, thank you for your earlier words and coming to the dark side.” They both chuckled, although the Mayor’s laugh was less genuine. “How could I miss this? You have a way of making it hard to say no to you. Let’s talk for a minute – can we?”.
What was not lost on most was the fact that the Mayor asked Numbers if he could have a minute. Usually it’s the other way around – people asking the Mayor for his time. You saw the shift of power in their interaction – as if Numbers was the Mayor, and the Mayor was just another person looking to be heard. They both turned their backs on the guests. They walked a few paces away for a bit of privacy.
“I heard about The Paper,” said the Mayor. “I want you to know that I had nothing to do with that. Nothing at all.” Numbers laughed and said, “No worries Antonio, I have nothing to hide. Nothing can ruin this moment – this day. How about we chat about this at another time? For now, I want to keep my focus on things that truly matter – like taking Zip to the playroom!”, Numbers said the last part loud enough for Zelema to hear.
She jumped up and ran to him. He smiled, and the Mayor saw something genuine in his reaction. He also recognized the fact that Numbers quickly pawned him off. “No problem at all, Mr. Powers. It looks like you have a new best friend! Whom do I owe the pleasure?”, he said reaching down to shake Zip’s hand. As warm as she was with Numbers, Zip was not with the Mayor. Numbers noticed that immediately, and bent down to whisper something into her ear. A big smile rose on her face, and she let out a laugh that brought the spotlight onto her. Numbers picked her up, and she shyly said, “Hi, Mista Mayuh,” as only she could.
Immediately a crowd formed. Photographers appeared out of nowhere snapping pictures and capturing the moment. The Mayor was smiling – her mother was smiling – Numbers was smiling. It seemed everyone around them was drawn to this picturesque moment with Numbers and Zip. The rumors were sure to swirl. Not that it would matter to Numbers. At this point, he could run for mayor and unseat the mayor.
Pictures and moments like these are what make politicians. Numbers cared less about that, though. While many of his moves were calculated, this move – this moment sure was not. He was caught up like Ms. Peters. They met eyes once again and he turned to her, still holding Zip.
“I see you brought your camera team, huh, Ms. Peters?”, Numbers said in a jokingly quizzical manner – glancing at her in a way that his eyes said more. “Now – now, Mr. Powers. You know if you wanted my picture, there were easier ways to get one, right?”, she said, not missing a beat. She was smooth, Numbers laughed. He had no immediate comeback. Rarely does he meet someone with the wit and charm that matched his. Was this someone that could look into his eyes and make him fold? These thoughts were running through his head, but he had stalled enough.
“Oh, no worries Ms. Peters, with all of the people I employ, you don’t think that they didn’t snap a picture of you dropping your plate?”
Check. Numbers smiled – both inside and out.
Ms. Peters blushed. Her complexion was a complex blend of browns. Caramel. Chocolate. The perfect shade of coffee with crème brulee cream. She was stunning. Then she smiled. Her lips curled in just the right way. Full. She tilted her head down. She smelled trouble and wanted to follow its’ aroma.
“Ok, you got me on that one. Well done, Mr. Powers”, she replied.
Quickly they all turned as Numbers held out his hand in the direction of the center – still holding Zip. He had a date with his new friend – Zelema. In that moment, nothing else mattered. This would be his first date in months. Instead of visions of quiet conversation and bodies touching, he was prepared for playing tag, jumping into a sea of foam, and smiling until his cheeks hurt. The perfect date.
“So how old are you, Ms. Zelema?” They walked until they disappeared inside Prosperity Place.
The Numbers Within..
Premise:
Set to the backdrop of one of the harshest cities in the world, Chicago, The Power of Numbers is a tale of a man battling a beautiful struggle. The love of his city, the power of his people, the legacy of his father, and his undying quest to find love. In his quest to make those around him happy, he finds a way to right the wrongs the city manufactured against those that made it what it was. This educated street tale follows the main character, Numbers, as he balances the life of a successful CEO while being the Boss of the streets. From corner to corporate, Numbers has a way to make it all work out. Even when there seems to be no way out.
Main Characters:
Numbers: The Boss/Numby/Gwo Palto/Springy/James Powers
13: Dominique Lewis/Numbers’ Assistant/Number One, Inc CEO/Pure Love/Egypt
11: Twin/Best Friend/Chief Block Officer/CeeBo/Egypt
Zarasse Peters: Zelema’s Mother/Object of Numbers’ affection
Zelema Peters: Zip/Zarasse’s Daughter
50: Driver/Assistant/Head of Security
147: Johnny/Julius’ Father/Numbers’ Oldest Childhood Friend
78: Keisha/Mother of Julius/147’s Baby Mother/Numbers’ Pain
Julius: 78’s Son/147’s Son
8: Mr. Anderson/Numbers’ Mentor/Egypt
The Mayor: Jim/Numbers’ Nemesis
7: Ms. Jackson/Numbers’ Sexual Partner/Renowned Entertainment Lawyer
C9: Chicago Nine/Chicago Police on Numbers’ Payroll
Set to the backdrop of one of the harshest cities in the world, Chicago, The Power of Numbers is a tale of a man battling a beautiful struggle. The love of his city, the power of his people, the legacy of his father, and his undying quest to find love. In his quest to make those around him happy, he finds a way to right the wrongs the city manufactured against those that made it what it was. This educated street tale follows the main character, Numbers, as he balances the life of a successful CEO while being the Boss of the streets. From corner to corporate, Numbers has a way to make it all work out. Even when there seems to be no way out.
Main Characters:
Numbers: The Boss/Numby/Gwo Palto/Springy/James Powers
13: Dominique Lewis/Numbers’ Assistant/Number One, Inc CEO/Pure Love/Egypt
11: Twin/Best Friend/Chief Block Officer/CeeBo/Egypt
Zarasse Peters: Zelema’s Mother/Object of Numbers’ affection
Zelema Peters: Zip/Zarasse’s Daughter
50: Driver/Assistant/Head of Security
147: Johnny/Julius’ Father/Numbers’ Oldest Childhood Friend
78: Keisha/Mother of Julius/147’s Baby Mother/Numbers’ Pain
Julius: 78’s Son/147’s Son
8: Mr. Anderson/Numbers’ Mentor/Egypt
The Mayor: Jim/Numbers’ Nemesis
7: Ms. Jackson/Numbers’ Sexual Partner/Renowned Entertainment Lawyer
C9: Chicago Nine/Chicago Police on Numbers’ Payroll
Numbers' Quotables..
1. Everyone felt his power, as if he walked with his own theme music. Each step seemed choreographed to the beat that was his life.
2. Your children now have a place to run to, not for protection, but because they feel safe in the solitude of happiness.
3. He dreamed for it, but those dreams never dated his reality.
4. Her eyelashes met his eyes, and instantly he melted.
5. Her complexion was a complex blend of browns. Caramel. Chocolate. The perfect shade of coffee with crème brulee cream.
6. She smelled trouble and wanted to follow its’ aroma.
7. They were best friends since the day they met. Their bond was an interesting mix of emotionless envy.
8. The hard knock life wasn’t just an orphan’s tale – it was the glaring reality for many untold stories.
9. It’s funny how your world is complete until you realize it isn’t.
10. Her life was a complicated beautiful mess. A rough path to a beautiful struggle.
11. His voice – the soundtrack to her sleeping thoughts.
2. Your children now have a place to run to, not for protection, but because they feel safe in the solitude of happiness.
3. He dreamed for it, but those dreams never dated his reality.
4. Her eyelashes met his eyes, and instantly he melted.
5. Her complexion was a complex blend of browns. Caramel. Chocolate. The perfect shade of coffee with crème brulee cream.
6. She smelled trouble and wanted to follow its’ aroma.
7. They were best friends since the day they met. Their bond was an interesting mix of emotionless envy.
8. The hard knock life wasn’t just an orphan’s tale – it was the glaring reality for many untold stories.
9. It’s funny how your world is complete until you realize it isn’t.
10. Her life was a complicated beautiful mess. A rough path to a beautiful struggle.
11. His voice – the soundtrack to her sleeping thoughts.
My Words, My Voice
A blog highlighting the various works and words of author, Quency L. Phillips.
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