She’d thrown herself into that kind of work in her early years in New York, but then her job had taken over most of her life. Maybe now she’d have more time to do it again.

“Not as often as I’d like,” Jamila said. “I need to work on that; I’ve been wanting to find a way to get teens in the community more involved. Sometimes they do the delivering with their parents, but that’s not enough.” She laughed. “Speaking of that, our new friends from tonight are going to do a bunch of delivering for us tomorrow and next week!”

Olivia turned up the music.

“Wow, they all have cars?”

Jamila laughed at her.

“This is Los Angeles, Olivia—a lot of people here have cars.”

“I know, I need to get one. But it’s a big decision! And I’ve never actually bought a car before, so I’m intimidated by the whole going-to-a-dealership-for-it part.”

Jamila turned to her with a wide smile on her face.

“What are you doing tomorrow at lunchtime?”

Olivia desperately wished she had a client meeting, or a conference call, or something.

“Nothing specific, but I have work to do.” She didn’t want to ask, but she had to. “Why?”

Jamila flashed a huge smile at her.

“Because I’m going to pick you up from work, and I’m going to take you to buy a car, that’s why.”

Olivia argued with her, but somehow the next day at 12:15, she got into Jamila’s car.

“Seriously, if you have better things to do on this beautiful Los Angeles day, you don’t have to spend the afternoon helping me buy a car,” Olivia said.

Jamila waved her words aside.

“Thanks for making me feel like a loser since I actually don’t have anything better to do on this beautiful Los Angeles afternoon.” She made a face at Olivia, and they both laughed. “Okay, what kind of car are we buying today?”

As soon as they walked into the dealership, a tall, thin salesman with a big smile on his face greeted them.

“Can I help you two today?” He looked back and forth between Olivia and Jamila. “Let me guess . . . sisters?”

Olivia looked at Jamila and grinned. Sure, why not.

Jamila nodded and smiled at the salesman.

“Hi . . . Brad,” Jamila said. Oh right, he was wearing a name tag. “My sister and I here would love to test-drive a few cars, if you have them on the lot?”

Two hours later, after four test drives—one car twice—some negotiation, and a whole lot of signing of papers, Brad handed Olivia a key.

“Congratulations on your new car, Ms. Monroe,” he said.

Olivia and Jamila grinned at each other as they walked out of the dealership.

“I’m taking you to happy hour for that,” Olivia said. “Isn’t there a good Mexican place nearby?”

Olivia pulled into a parking space by the restaurant after circling the block only four or five times. She made it to a table before Jamila did, so she pulled her phone out of her bag. She had to tell Max about her car. They’d texted a few times already today, but she hadn’t told him she was going to actually buy a car. Partly because she hadn’t really believed it herself.

Guess what I did today?

 

Just then, Jamila dropped down into the seat across from her. Olivia pushed a menu toward her friend.

“I shouldn’t drink anything if I have to drive that car home; I’m too paranoid,” Olivia said as they looked over the menu. “But you should have something if you want. I’m definitely getting a plate of nachos as big as my head.”

Jamila shook her head.

“Oh, thanks, but I don’t drink. You should come back here sometime when you’re not driving—the margaritas are supposed to be great. And the nachos are fantastic.”

After they ordered food, Jamila cleared her throat.

“Before you started your own firm, did you work in a different law firm for a while?”

Olivia nodded.

“For the bulk of my career, so . . . what, twelve or thirteen years. Why?”

Olivia geared herself up to give law school advice—that’s where questions like this usually led.

“Did you have to deal with people—mostly men—not listening to you, or your ideas? Or pretending they’d come up with your ideas themselves?”

Olivia laughed.

“Every single fucking day, more or less. That was one of the reasons I started my own firm.” She took a sip of the agua fresca the waitress dropped down in front of her. “Why, do you have to deal with that at the community center?”

Jamila’s eyebrows went sky high.

“Every single fucking day!” They both laughed. “I mean, that’s a slight exaggeration, but for instance—I got involved with the center really early on because I grew up in that neighborhood and was excited there was a new community center. And when I suggested a meal delivery service to the executive director, he blew me off. For months, he blew me off! And then all of a sudden I find out he went to the board and told them his amazing idea about what to do with the cafeteria we weren’t using, and the board got all excited, and I wanted to throw things.”

Olivia nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. And you feel like an asshole complaining about it, since it’s happening, isn’t it, and it’s doing good in the community, isn’t it? But— ”

“But I’m still so bitter! Exactly!” Jamila said. “And you know how yesterday we were talking about getting more teens involved in our work? Well, I had a great idea while I was driving home: you know how people always say the best time to get teenagers talking to you about what’s really going on with them is while you’re in the car? What if we paired up teens and our adult volunteers to do deliveries, in a sort of stealth mentorship program? It would get the kids more involved in the community and the center, and over the course of the weeks and months, they’d get to know the other volunteers, and have someone else to get advice from and rely on.”

Olivia could feel a huge grin spreading across her face.

“I love this idea.”

Jamila grinned back at her.

“Good, because I love it too—thank you for inspiring it. But . . .”

“But you’re worried that if you tell your boss, he won’t give you the credit for it. Again.”

Jamila nodded.

“Exactly. And don’t get me wrong, I really love this job, and for the most part I get to have a lot of free rein, and I feel really proud of the work we do. But he takes all the credit for it! Over and over again! I’m sorry for ranting about this, you’re a volunteer, but I just saw the board meeting minutes, and it goes over all of the meals we’ve made and given out over the last quarter, and congratulates him, again, for his great idea! Olivia, I’m so mad I could spit.”

Olivia wished she were surprised.

“What I would do— ” She stopped herself. “I’m sorry, like the older sibling I am, I have the habit of giving advice whether someone asks for it or not. Do you want advice? I promise, it won’t hurt my feelings if you say no, you just needed to vent over some nachos.”

Jamila shook her head.

“No, I’d love your advice, actually. That’s partly why I brought it up. You always seem so . . . put together and no-nonsense. Like you wouldn’t stand that shit for a minute.”