Martin's royal court continues the business types drop by to slip him cards. More people gather at our table until Steven goes into Mr. Nice guy.

"Hello," Steven says.

I was on my second serving of the rice, and combine with the wine absolutely banging. If I get a third plate, I'd be a pig right? Hadn't eaten anything before or after the show but some water. I kept thinking that if I threw up during the presentation, it would be awful so I didn't. All this wine on an empty stomach was a bad idea right? I smiled into the next mouth full and it kept getting better and more buttery. Took another lime and squeezed it out over the fried rice.

"Hello," the chuckling man next to me said, leaning into my vision field a little. Mr. Nice Guy's sincere eyes combined with a smile that reached his eyes. My fork though was currently in my mouth. Oink, oink me moment. I was so embarrassed. Everyone else was working the room after the awards were all down. The who's who elite doing their power elite things and I was stuffing my face. A part of me really wanted that third plate but I put down my force. Check my mouth with my lips closed with my tongue for any food in my teeth.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Herzens," I shake his hand. A part of me expects him to walk off and for me to return to my uni fried rice. I was wondering about getting a to-go plate. Do they do to-go plates like BBQ's at these events? Damn, I want this recipe.

"It's just Steven, Akeisha right?" He smiled at me again and my to-go plate plan went up in flames. I couldn't figure it out and it didn't set in. Everyone around me including Toni was working the room. He takes the chair from another table and sits down next to me. Martin and Steven's brother hold court next to him on the other side of the U table. It was a complete contrast to me sitting by myself alone. But then again, now that Mr. Nice Guy is here I guess I wasn't alone anymore. It's funny we have had so many people come by the table and he's the first one to act like I existed.

I nod at him and swirl the wine glass. There's something about Mr. Nice Guy and it was there from the second he sat down. That hopeful, little boy wondering kindness. I supply food too many public schools around California. It's an effort to back the charge for fresh food made at each kitchen on the west coast for students. Scratch made food is very hard to get at public schools. Things that taste good and multiple free meals offered aren't always offered. He reminded me of one of my school lunch kids. Wondering what new option or new fruit variety will be at the cut fruit bar. When they go home, they were more likely to ask for fruit and vegetables without drama. It's weird how a cutting fruit up in pretty stars, hearts, and cowboy hats make them want to eat it more. Because of that kindness I saw in him, I couldn't help myself but like him and see those kids.

"Yes, Akeisha Hart," I answered him.

His winning smile caught me a little off guard emotionally. It was the clean cut last year of college about him even though I know he'd been out of college probably for a while. He had this almost dark brown hair with hints of red and a very dark brown ginger beard. The two didn't match but looked great in a tux. Combined with the soulful eyes he had a very nice guy vibe. And not that I'm a fake nice guy forceful vibe where they aren't really nice but possibly a real one. Steven said, "In college me and my best friends lived off fried rice. It's one of my favorite foods, I made sure it was on the menu for old time sake." And smooth as butter he kept talking without making me feel embarrassed.

"Your presentation was imaginative. The expanse of your company with the different programs interested me personally. That entry stuck out in a big crowd. We all knew we had to have you here today Ms. Hart." Steve told me. My thought was faster than lighting firing off to his statement. That was news to me. That same charming smile was absolutely natural and his eyes kept getting more excited as he spoke to me. I pegged Steve as a dreamer, and I was so glad I was right about him.

"Thank you," I say, waiting for the backhanded insult like Martin had thrown at me for hours. A part of me was prepared for it just in case, none came.

"Lawns in the Sacramento heat must have been hell?" Mr. Nice Guy says with a patient grin.

"Yes," I laughed because it was hell and currently is hell, then kept going. "The key is to believe in water as if it were a talisman against evil." I said. The discordant jangles of multiple ongoing talking around us cocoon our conversation. I do the dance of random small talk. He asks me questions about my work and different projects I've completed. I show him on my phone some of the jobs that Toni and I didn't put in your entry to get into DE Talks. Also, the cooking men and ladies at the schools we help with a grant to hire. Then cooking school lunch in the schools. I also explained that it what was common practice in current school lunches. Taking tons of stuff out of plastic prepackaged. "The idea of baking fresh sourdough bread daily is a pretty foreign concept for school lunch. But internationally, school lunch is cooked on site from scratch made."

The more I talked about the jobs the more interested he was. The sheep under solar panels. I remember that Heron Inc. was into Solar Panels and other tech. But as one or two people more turned into our conversation, I explained it to them.

"Grazing under solar panels reduces the dust. So, they don't need to be cleaned as much." The two women who were investor's dates listened. They loved the pictures of the baby ducks, and sheep grazing. It's hard to not enjoy that level of cuteness.

"What about the dung beetle project," Mr. Nice Guy said with another fresh smile. I was taken back that he could remember one of our more important projects off hand. The woman next to us asked after it. I quickly explained that we fed carbon to ducks, sheep, horses, and cattle. By doing that for the horse, sheep, and cattle the dung beetle buries that carbon forever. Meaning that it fights climate change, the kind that saves the planet. Also, it improves the farmland when it's done. It becomes more lush and protective of water. I showed them pictures of both the adorable fluffy mini cattle the size of a medium size dog that do the job. Also, the slightly larger cattle that also help. The more I explained the more comfortable I got with our little group. But something funny was happening the group for some reason was growing a person at a time. They seem to be into how they walk through forests and fight fires through eating biochar carbon.

I flip through the next project. Part of me wasn't sure but Steve kept nodding at me going along with my projects. Every time I was about to put down my phone he seemed to be asking about the next project. We work on a lot of public and private projects. Even talking about things I dream to do if I had access to more capital.

When the woman asked about the pellet, I got a little too pumped. I took out my clutch bag and pulled the bees wax bag out with feed pellets.

"Inside the pellet is biochar, seaweed, azolla, duckweed, and sainfoin." Steve, and two women looked at it a little clueless at the last part. "Sainfoin is like alfalfa that's given to horses but without bloating issues. Also, extremely drought tolerant. Its development is from areas of the middle east genetics that we are using. It's the perfect crop for the southwest. Also, for California's Dryland areas. We use the flowers in fancy salads." I take a bite of the pellet showing them it's good. Then I gave it to them. The moment the women gave me the what the fuck look. I realized my geeky side had gotten ahead of me. I was seconds from taking the pellet I dropped in their hand back. Then Steve took a bite of it.

"It's not bad, technically this would be vegan, correct?" He asked me crunching the little food pellets and taking more out of the bag like popcorn. "It's almost honeyed but not."

"Yes, it's extremely high in protein. We have one that uses an insect meal, also a meat version that uses that recipe with seeds and nuts. Oh, and also same sainfoin seeds. We sell it as a protein bar. Also, use it for pig feed mix as well."

"It smells sweet," one of the pretty women said, trying it cautiously. And luckily they didn't make a gross out face or spit it out. But they also didn't go for more like Steve was. The more I talked to Steve, the more I liked him. I pegged him as a dreamer but I should add hopeful creative. Mr. Nice Guy indeed but I could see myself being friends with him if we would ever cross paths again. My mom says always trust your gut, and she's right.

Steve kept probing my job with friendly curiosity. Everything from the free school breakfast, lunches, and dinner. The farming education teaches all of it. Nothing he found uninteresting and until suddenly the conversation changes.

"Heron acquired a small company that specializes in corporate composting. Do you have any suggestions Keisha?" Mr. Nice Guy asked me. Talk about dropping a live bomb in the middle of the conversation. I flicked my eyes over to Martin and he hadn't noticed our conversation yet. But the number of people at our side of the U table was a solid quarter of the room. I even a few major executives. Maybe they were waiting to meet Steve, and I was taking up his time.

"Suggestions? I repeat slowly as the table falls silent around me. He sits up and moves his chair a little closer to mine. Excitement lights up his gray eyes. The noise that covered our conversation slips away. Martin's jealousy lanced gaze swung my way, and the jig was up. A minefield that Mr. Nice Guy has just landed me in blew. Every eye at the table is on the two of us and it's damn near half the room now. He smiles, COO Heron Inc. Mr. Nice Guy you are putting me on fire was the absolutely filthy mad thought that didn't reach my eyes. Martin wasn't someone I wanted to mess with and commenting about his company wasn't what I wanted to do. Thinking it and saying it out loud were two different things.

I gather myself to step in it. "It's a good idea for companies. Green waste is expensive, and it's also pointless. Composting takes about 14-21 days. At the same time, compost should never be the first stop for waste." I picked up the tablet smoothly and went full geek. In for a penny in for a pound right if I was going to be screwed either way. Open the sketch app then worked out a waste plan for the company and hand it over. Toni's hand moves to my shoulder and I look up. She gives me that pimps up hoe's down look that I should be charging for this. I give her the look back. It's a very basic plan, not a big deal. It was a big deal sometimes I give things away for free that should be charged for. Drives Toni nuts, but that's why she does most of the business stuff. Steve goes over the plan and calls over the other man.

"Issa Gage, Game Director for Heron Inc. This is Keisha Hart, CEO of Garden Girl and her business partner Antonia Carpenter." Steve introduced us, I had no idea he knew Toni's name too. He hands Issa the tablet. I knew Mr. Midnight I studied the paperwork Toni put together. These were one of the three most powerful people in the company. The third a reclusive who goes out of his way to stay out of the public eye.

"Toni is just fine," she extends her hand smooth as shea butter for a handshake with Issa. Issa looks up from the tablet, his dark brown skin gleaming like an obsidian jewel. He's stylish in a dark blue tux with a yellow tie. His suit fits him in a way that hugs every muscle with more care than a lover. That smile on Toni's face had no place in this informal meeting. I give her the not now look. She gives me back the probably maybe later look. What they never tell you about tech events is they seem to be a nerd orgy of sorts. A grand event, free booze and a lot of hotel rooms almost always give the same result at any conference. I'd never taken up the offers when we worked in college for a big tech company even after my boyfriend broke up with me. But Toni enjoyed herself. So that maybe later look might not have been that far off an idea. Toni goes off with Mr. Midnight to talk about the plans. Something tells me she might actually get some sales before she gladly milks him for everything.

Steven peppers me with more questions. Martin interrupts when I get to the importance of a first stop for all food that is still edible to be food banks. Supporting the future of food banks to handle being the first stop better.

"That is a good way for a company to get sued," Martin interrupts. His neck turns a shade of light red. He sits back in his chair next to me with a comfortable, smug look like he shut down all this nonsense. It was like he was some grand hero saving everything. Martin goes over my really rough proposal. The room leans into his words as he trashes my ideas. He's a good presenter even in this small setting. Martin is very talented and those are great ideas. Except, he has no plan other than the easiest to put stuff in a pile and compost it. Mingle with corporate executives speak and green talk. He's missing most of the community building, civil service, and the waste. What he proposes in his compost company is a progressive on paper eco solution. It's the type of thing that any corporate executive would love. That kind of white wonder bread is the best thing ever philosophy. But then you realize it could be made with whole white wheat. A type of artisan style sour dough so the toast is super thick and tasty. Once you have the real bread you get hooked. It isn't that wonder bread isn't ok white bread and a place for everything. It's that there's a better, more complete solution to have from time to time.

The things he was laying out weren't wrong, but it wasn't right at the same time. Kind of like when at colleges they have you come up with a business plan. Cookie cutter on paper without the scope and range of the real world. Which is what I'd been doing since I was very young, real world, real hard work. Hell, the job got me through college. I knew the taste of what Martin was offering but I waited until he got to the end.

"It's not illegal to donate nor will any company be sued if they donate good food in food faith. It's in the law for all fifty states that make it legal." The itch to punch this prat for fear mongering but to be fair many people don't know that. "Growing up, my mother was a Licensed Vocational Nurse. We had hard months until she got DNP." I bit my lip then remembered people might not know. "Doctor of Nursing Practice, it was a big deal for her and my life. The degree got us out of food banks if something awful happened like the car broke down." The eyes of the people on me were unnerving, but I kept going. "Through my moms nursing job she ended up running a food bank that is connected with the hospital she works at."

Martin's smile drops off his face. He looks a little uncertain but still angry. Maybe because I disagreed with him. Maybe because saying my single mom used to eat from the food bank made him look down on me. I'm giving whatever he thought about me was right stuff. And maybe a part of me was pissed about it too. But I was fucking proud of my mother. She's my absolute center of pride. My rock, my building block. She is a Queen in my life and taught me to be one. My Queen mother made sure babies got fed through that bank. And that was a hell of a lot more than most folks wanted to do for people. I sat straighter, my head held high as she taught me.

"These first-line programs for food are important for people every day. Distribution of that food can be huge for the city waste program. We waste so much it would shock you. Step one food bank, step two animal reclaim, pigs, goats, chickens, geese, ducks, turkey and so on. Then insect conversion of waste is a lot bigger than compost." I kept going as I kept eye contact with the high power people in this room.

"I am going to be straight up with you all. At the end of the day I'm not going to my penthouse apartment in San Francisco. I'm going to get into my bus. Which is technically classed as homeless or housing insecure. Yes, I run a company that helps people. I've unwisely plowed every dime I had into it." The confession spilled out for me. Truly, Cinderella under all the pearls. And who is Cinderella, just a maid really. But I had to keep speaking to them.

"I can tell you for a fact that some of the people who work for your company can be in the same class as me. If I didn't work on a farm, I'd be using a food bank to survive the cost of living in California. I can tell you for a fact when you are at work someone in that building you work in uses your local food bank. And that food you are going to waste in the compost that could be eaten should be given to that food bank. That's America currently as design. We rather throw something in the compost bin wasting it instead of seeing it go to the cycle. I can't even tell you how many companies have huge cafeterias with high priced food that wastes it every day." I told them. But all my thoughts got away from me even with my mouth closed. Maybe it was on my face because the expression of the room changed. It's hard words for these corporate titans. They all really should be paying everyone in their building a living wage for California. And that cleaning lady working for the contract company probably isn't close to a living wage. Even if they are a contractor, they could require they make living wages via the contracts they write. But if that was the case they'd not be hiring a contract company to get around that in the first place. That is a whole bigger conversation. The least they could do is waste less.

I didn't want to be preachy, but this is my wheelhouse. It's small and dumb but I believe in folks eating. The idea of no free lunch is something I get told all the time. Every single time they think they are nailing it, telling me that. Without realizing how incredibly sad the statement is considering the amount of waste. Yes, people should be paid properly but hunger at this point is a distribution problem. We do not lack for food most of the time. Always seems like such a tragic problem because it's optional. My eyes closed to the room of so many gazes glue to my outburst. How did I again find how some way to fuck up?

I blinked slowly, even though not a single more word had left my mouth. The words I'd already said were more than enough to spread a mix of emotions on the faces of the California elite.

The shock of my statement to the well-dressed people didn't fade even as we both stared at each other. You'd think I told the powerful people, I farted. But reality is I spent all my money getting the farming business started. Anything I made went to making sure I was paying employees correctly. And for California that was expensive which left me and Toni screwed. We weren't trust fund kids; we were dead middle class worker bees. But It was worth it because we have farms which technically we cannot build a house on. But if the company went belly up, we'd lose everything. More options are open for us. And if we get the right series of jobs a lot more can change for even better. Couch surfing in my moms living room from time to time isn't the worst thing. God knows other people are a hundred times worse off than us. But I guess I am probably as close to a homeless person these types of people might ever meet. At least publicly knowing that I'm technically homeless. Even though there's no way that someone who works in their building isn't even more homeless than me. They just aren't saying it in the middle of the room filled with the rich, powerful, well dressed. I hope maybe, just maybe, it got those people thinking.

Toni excuses me from Steve and the other corporate types in their tuxedos and gowns. The tech and business elite watch us go their eyes never leaving us like some horror movie scene. And they are waiting for the horror movie blood spray. She pulls my hand to the elevator.

Before the doors fully close I ask her, "I blew it again right?"

She pushes the elevator door button and gazes at the room watching us. "Ke, hell no. They had it coming and that's your personal truth. We don't need their approval or money, mind you I'd take it. I could use some new shoes," Toni says with a chuckle as the doors slowly close on top of the San Francisco skyline. "But we got here every step of the way the hard way. Most of those people in the room didn't." She rolls her eyes, "Their judgment or approval isn't needed or wanted." And she was right with what she said. I wasn't worried about them, I was worried about disappointing Toni, who'd been there for me. She took this chance with me start this business when the smart move would have been the corporate. A job which she would have dominated in. I have to keep my recovery going and trust that self-destructive tendencies wouldn't pull Toni down with me. Plus, that didn't mean doing that at all. It was simply the truth of it when asked.

When the doors close she screams. "We have a meeting in fifteen minutes!"

"Meeting?" I ask anxiously. It was a complete non sequitur because I thought she was going to be upset with me. Toni wasn't and now she's talking about something else completely different.

She looks at me like I can read her mind and instantly understand how big of a deal this is. "Yes! With the CEO of Heron Inc for a few large contracts."

I get it and jump up and down with her as if we are eight years old again and it's ice cream. Talk about an emotional ups and downs night.