I was still drinking that warm coffee poured out into my mug, waiting for Sharr to show up at my house. I had the paperwork ready for her and signed for her. When I emailed the lawyer I had on retainer for the company. My lawyer is a wonderful older black woman who gave me a bit of advice, 'know your worth." She'd been working for a company for years, getting low balled. More than half of her career meaning that it cut into her retirement. She was paid well, and she was still a lawyer, of course. But in comparison to everyone else at her old firm, she got low balled, so she was always behind. Meanwhile, she was just happy to be at this high end law firm. She'd worked her whole life trying to get to that point, and for her, getting hired and doing a good job was the finish line. But the problem with that was it was casually devaluing herself. One of her peers who came into the company made more than her. And got an offer to become a partner on top of it. She was the better lawyer, though. So, when she tried to correct the problem and get a better bag. That high end law firm was so accustomed to her being devalued. They tried to keep law balling her instead of paying out on par with her peers. She left that firm and got the correct pay and some. Became partner two years after joining the new firm. She kicks the ass of her old law firm to this day. But the less was knew your worth, and the words rang in my mind.

What is my worth as a professional?

I started my job as a Personal Assistant by chance. Working for Carly and other online creators made sense. I had an odd skill set and when most girls were at Forever 21; I was at office supply stores. My nose is deep in the highlighters and colored sticky notes. While Carly was in the appliance section and Eve was in the cameras department. We were odd young kids, and it made sense, but I also enjoyed the fact that my skill made it easier for them. I liked straightening their worlds out and fixing things.

When I was younger, my father got cancer, and we lost everything. My mother did her best, but we ended up moving in with Eve and her uncle. We had next to nothing, less than nothing with a mountain of medical debt. Straightening things out and making it organized made my world make sense. I always felt better. And if that made me feel better, why not get paid for it and get that bag? So, I did, and I started the business that broke even some years and did well for some years. Just as it was beginning to take off the divorce, I had to buy Theo out of the business. Even though he was never a part of its inner working but it's fifty-fifty split in California.

I thought about quitting, but I gutted through it and got hired for Noah. Took on more clients and paid back the loan kept the business going until we were back. Built it up and now this huge contract. I shook my head and still couldn't fully believe it. Completely different place than before.

Know my worth.

I did know my worth.

Knock, Knock.

I smiled and opened the door to Sharr.

***

It took more than three hours to work my way through the contract with her. Highlighting parts that I wanted a different take on.

"I think the most important thing is I'd like you to take 2% back and put my name on the list of sponsors for the event." Surprised, rippled across Sharr's expression, got her with that one.

"That's an interesting offer." But the warm, casual friendly gaze she gave me before disappeared. The business ice lady was out to play. I was now in the big leagues instead of a plucky sidekick. She offered me good money. Having my business name in the list would have been the equivalent to getting back end on song credits. It doesn't just mean casual money when someone listens to the song. It also means more business coming to you as more folks look for hits from you. I wouldn't get paid on the back end because it's a charity event. But I could expect more business on the back end because of it. I gave her my version of Jo-Lee's cheshire cat smile. The type of tooth smile where you show you're getting all the cookies and cream. And leaving no crumbs.

"It is. I believe my help during the inaugural event was instrumental." She had that particular smile. That kind where a woman is thinking about using her claws and the option is up in the air. Was she going to play hardball with me?

"Yes..." she answered, but we went back and forth. She was tough with me, but more importantly, she was treating me like a professional and I enjoyed it. The paper work ended with so many highlights and posted notes. She took pictures of the paperwork with all the sticky's and I took pictures of it. I did an initial signature to all but the post its and highlights plus the normal signature. A pretty version would also come to me later in the week to sign via notary. We were done and the business icy shark was put away for Sharr.

"You did a good job. You had me on the ropes in places." She says to me with a smile. I was kind of proud of myself.

"You're really bad ass when you want to be," I said to her.

"Yes, I know," she smiles back at me. At her word, she gets up to leave. Then I remember all at once, slapping my hand on my forehead. I went racing for the kid's bed, my hand fishing under it for the tape package. Grabbing the costume jewelry box, I present it to Sharr but she peers back at me, puzzled.

"Jewelry box?" She asked me.

"Yeah, here." I shove it back at her. Her hand comes up, pushing it back at me.

"What?" She just didn't know what the hell I was talking about for some reason. We passed it lightly back and forth as if it was some sort of ticking bomb that would go off.

"Remember, you gave me this to wear with my dress last time. Costume jewelry to borrow for the arts event." I gave it back to her again. She must have forgotten she gave it to me in the first place. The little black box with the pretty claps sat in her open hands and the puzzlement kept going on.

"No, this is yours Tari. You own it." She said, passing it back one more time. The jewelry sat on my hands weighty. And the puzzlement became a permanent expression on both our faces.

I guess it's a good thing I'll have something to wear for the next event. But what would I do with the pricey costume jewelry, and where the hell am I going to put it? Putting it taped under the bed seems like a bad idea. I open the box and look inside. The sparkles of the cubic zirconium wink back at me. I had good and bad memories at the same time as the set. Noah returning and still wanting me and Noah rejecting me all in one go. Those bracelets and the necklace is a chain weighing me down in emotions. So heavy, until I knew I might never breathe again at the bottom of the Sea.

"Well, ok. Thanks for coming," I said to Sharr. I was just about to close the box back up when she asked me a halting question.

"Inside the jewelry box. Did it have a note?" One of her eyebrows was up like a detective.

"No?" I answered her.

"Ok," she says like that's a loaded answer and I sure didn't get what was loaded about it.

"Did Noah paint those?" She jerks her head at it. The many paintings on the walls make one big painting.

"Well, no, my kids help. You can see their hands all over it." When I answered her, I wasn't sure what she was getting at.

"Tari, inside the box, that's not custom jewelry." She says it like she's ripping off a bandaged. All at once, without even a second of pause. I mouth the words, not costume jewelry. For some reason, it wasn't fully connecting. The box dropped out of my hand, the lid lifting in its free fall glittering sparkles. Falling like spring rain over water on a sunshiny day. Moments before the box fell to the ground, Sharr scooped it up out of the air. I felt like I was back on the boat for the first time. And it had that wishy washy feeling like you should be throwing up but you're not. In that, no man lands between puke and shock.

Sharr led me to my couch, sitting down next to me. But it wasn't getting better than my heart raced. I couldn't even look at the box in her hand. If I did the full freakout would be bad. I had to keep it at bay or else it would catch up with me like some monster in the Black Lagoon. That monster would rise from the depths.

"Whoa, put your head between your legs. Breathe, trust me, it will help." I followed her directions, and it did help. God, I hope I don't puke with my head between my legs. "I thought Noah included a note in the package he sent? It wasn't my intention to spring it on you all at once. I'm sorry. I kept wondering why you wanted to return it. It seems my worry that it was sized in correctly was wrong."

"Noah?" I say in a croak.

"He bought it for you for the event," she said. Oh, why? I couldn't even ask her because I had that gritty feeling in my mouth and I wasn't in a rush to try my luck. But maybe god was on my side because she kept going.

"Noah should have included a note. It's 100% real." She said it and it was like pouring water over my head. This wasn't a dream. I made upside down eye contact with Sharr and the validity of her words were all over her face. Plus, the way she was holding the box was completely different from the way I was. She held it as if it was... precious jewels inside because there fucking was. I rocked while my head was in between my legs, ass up yet again and not in the good way. And almost like Sharr thought better of it she went on.

"The paintings on the wall are... Noah Jude, Tari." She said it the way people say Prada, or Balenciaga. I knew that all too well from clients. It's an absolute certainty that the slapped on label is the epitome of luxury. Sometimes I have clients who rip off some name of something that I've never heard of in that way. And I automatically know that some rich people's bullshit, smile and nod.

"Oh, no you're mistaken. My kids' fingerprints are on it. They help. It's not-" I say to hear. My fuzzy head coming up way too fast. Swiveling wavy vision around the room to see if new paintings showed up while I wasn't looking. It was the same one he made with the kids last year.

"Tari, honey," she said it like a friend. An older friend who knew a thing about thangs and wasn't mean about it. She quoted me a price if she was to sell one.

"This shit can't be in my house." I wasn't living in the ghetto but this is a one bedroom, barely getting by smoothly shit. What was this doing on my walls? Omg, ancestors, man at the crossroads gonna take me today. Sharr set the jewels in my hand. I could have bought a house in California which is saying a lot about all this. Not even a McMansion, something better than that with all this and had some left over. The math was so quick.

"It's yours," she answers me. "I'll arrange for a safe box for the jewels. You will probably want to get insurance on the paintings in case of fire. It's a tax right off." She talked to me more like she was trying to talk me down from jumping off the gangplank. When Sharr finally left, I was still sitting on that couch. Didn't even do the three other locks on the door. I was in that much of a shock still.

Noah and I needed to talk badly, but hours later, I still had not moved from my spot. The jewelry box a heavy weight in my hand. Then I got up and paced back and forth. It was a sudden need. I'd have rather gone running and I'm not a runner. But all of that pacing with the jewelry box stopped with the ring of my phone. I answered it.

"Police officers are at Noah's," Sara said calmly into the phone.

And those jewels scattered on the ground like black diamond tears. The fancy box broken in pieces.

A/n: We are having a bit of a cliff. Sorry, but this is the split. See you soon. Happy Easter from me to you.