Man Enough For Me (28 page)

“Life is like making a cake,” Jules began. “God gives us all the same ingredients, and He also gives us the book with instructions. Now if we choose to follow the instructions, then when we put the ingredients together, in the right proportion, and bake them at the right temperature, we get a great tasting cake.”

“But if we decide not to follow the instructions and instead
use our own proportions for the ingredients, or even add things to the recipe that God asks us not to, then we end up with …”

“… a hot mess,” Easy finished.

“Exactly,” Jules said, smiling. “God is like the master pastry maker, and the Bible is like our baking cookbook. Some people don’t want to follow God’s plan for their lives because they think it’s too hard, or it’s not what they want for themselves. Most times they end up making a mess of things. Even when it might look like they’re doing well on the outside, they’re usually not.

“But those who choose to follow God’s will for their lives, to serve Him completely, they are the ones who end up with the winning product at the end. It might take longer, and the process might be harder, but the end result is always well worth it.”

Easy rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he considered Jules’s analogy.

“So things are really better when you’re doing it the God way, huh?”

“Yup,” Jules replied, nodding. “It might not always look that way, but it is.”

“How can you be sure?”

Jules sighed. Every conversation they had about God always came back to this very question. How can you be sure?

“You can’t,” Jules said. “You have to take it by faith. And then you test God to see if He’s true.”

“Test God, Jules?”

Jules laughed. “I know it sounds weird, but God Himself says we should. In the Bible where it talks about tithes, He says we should prove Him, and see if He doesn’t bless us for our faithfulness.

“That’s how your faith grows. You trust God, and let Him prove that He will take care of you. Believe me, it works every time.”

Easy was quiet again. In fact he was silent for so long that Jules began to wonder if he had gone off to sleep.

“All right.”

“All right what?” Jules asked. She had returned to her original position in Sis Crawford’s deck chair and was enjoying a cool breeze that was sweeping across the porch.

“I want to do it,” Easy said decidedly. “I want to let God run things for me, and see how it turns out.”

Jules’s heart began to beat faster, and she sat up suddenly and looked at Easy, to see if he was joking. He wasn’t.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Easy? Are you saying you want to give your life to God?”

Easy shrugged and looked at Jules simply. “Yeah, I think so. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I see how He’s been taking care of Grams, and you and ‘Dre and even Truuth. It’s like you guys never worry, even when things ain’t right. I want that.”

Jules was so excited she could barely stay still.

“Oh, I’m so glad, Easy,” she said, almost knocking him and his chair over as she flung her arms around him.

“Baby girl … can’t … breathe …”

Jules grinned and let go of Easy, leaning back against the porch railing instead.

“You won’t regret it, Easy.”

He nodded slowly. “I have a feeling you might be right.”

“W
hy do you want this?”

Jules crossed and uncrossed her legs nervously as she sat in the VP’s office. It had been four weeks since her dismissal, and they had finally called her in for an evaluation to determine what would happen next with her job. But Jules felt as if she was interviewing for her position all over again. She almost wished they would fire her and get it over with. It would be better than sitting here, on the verge of a panic attack, trying to figure out the right answer to a silly interview question.

However, Jules had to admit that of late she had been asking herself that same question. Why
did
she want the job?

The money was good. But that wasn’t what was motivating her. She had always wanted to work in PR and communications, and that was what kept her going. But lately working at Toronto Grace had been more stressful than enjoyable. She had once heard someone say, love what you do and you’ll never work a day in your life. Well, this job had felt a lot like work lately, and she was beginning to doubt if she really loved it.

But now wasn’t the time for self evaluation. Thomas Donnelly of the hospital’s executive team was looking at her impatiently over the top of his horn-rimmed glasses, and Jules knew if she wanted this job, she would have to work for it.

But what if she didn’t want it? Then what?

There were no other prospects in the near future, and while she would love to have the luxury of taking some time off to figure everything out, she knew her bank account and bills wouldn’t allow it.

But what if this wasn’t what God wanted her to be doing?

That, more than any other, was the thought that seemed to be nagging Jules more and more. What if He had a bigger plan in store for her?

“I want this job because I am good at it,” Jules said decisively. “You need someone who knows this hospital—who knows the things that can’t be put on paper. Someone who is familiar with the hospital’s stakeholders and who has the training and experience needed to communicate with them in a way that ensures that the hospital continues to have a mutually beneficial relationship with each different group.

“I am that person.”

Jules leaned forward and looked sincerely into the doubtful eyes of the aging gentleman.

“Sir, I know this hospital has been going through a lot of changes lately. With the restructuring and the recent strike, you need to have someone in your public relations department who can assure staff, board members, and patients that this hospital is, and will continue to be, a strong part of the community both now and in the many years to come.

“You can’t do that with a new person who knows nothing about our culture. You need someone who your stakeholders are familiar with and who is familiar with them. You need someone who has a proven record of success. That person is me.”

Jules took a deep breath and sat back. She had done her best. Now it was out of her hands.

Donnelly took off his glasses and rubbed them with a tiny piece of velvet, before putting them back on. He sighed wearily and looked up at Jules.

“I’ll tell you, Ms. Jackson, just the thought of having to hire an entire new department is enough to give me a headache. I think we’ll just stick with what we have for now.”

Jules smiled.

“Thank you, sir. You won’t be sorry.”

She paused and looked at the VP carefully.

“I do have one more thing to ask however.”

A few moments later, Jules walked out of the office with her job back in place and authorization to bring Michelle back in and hire a new employee. She couldn’t believe her luck. She had been begging for extra staff for months, and now she finally had it. It seemed that everything with work was going exactly how she would have planned it.

So why wasn’t she happier about it? And why was there this unsettling feeling in her stomach that wouldn’t go away?

Swinging her purse lazily, she walked out of the elevator she had taken down to the ground floor and slid into a seat in the hospital café. After a moment she realized it was the same seat she had sat in the first time she’d had lunch with Germaine. She rubbed her eyes wearily. It seemed like she couldn’t go more than a couple of hours without thinking about him.

Her thoughts drifted back to that first day. What she wouldn’t give to go back to that moment and start all over again, knowing what she knew now. She would do so many things differently.

She smiled as she remembered how passionate he had been as he talked about the Sound Lounge. She wondered what it would be like to be so passionate about something. The only thing that came close was the satisfaction she got working with Truuth to promote his album. Every time an event came off well, or they got a good review, or someone sent an e-mail to the Web site saying that Truuth’s music had changed him or her, Jules felt something move inside her. What she wouldn’t give to feel that way all the time.

She sat up suddenly.

That was it.

That was what she should be doing. But as soon as the idea came, so did the doubts. How could she make a living off freelance artist promotion? It would be almost like being an independent
consultant. There would be no steady salary, no health benefits, and no pension plan. Just a lot of budgeting, business planning, and bad debt. And of course there was that widely circulated statistic that nine out of ten new businesses failed within the first year.

Still, Jules couldn’t help but notice that her fingers tingled at the thought of going it on her own. There were so many things that could go wrong. But there were so many things that could go right too.

There was so much to think about.

Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes and rested her hands and head on the table.

Lord, I don’t know what to do. My mind is telling me one thing, but my heart wants to do another. I just want to do Your will for my life. Show me Your way, I pray. Amen.

“Jules? Is that you?”

Jules opened her eyes and looked up from the table.

“Sharifa!” she said, smiling. She stood up and embraced the tall, voluptuous woman.

Sharifa Johns was a publicist Jules had met while working for Truuth. She was the organizer for the annual Gospel Explosion concerts, and, when she wasn’t doing that, she was representing artists like Lilly Goodman, Cassandra Sommers, and Ricky Dillard. There were even rumors floating around in the industry that she had worked with God’s Property and Kiki Sheard while in the States. But Jules wasn’t sure how true that was.

“What are you doing here?” Jules asked, still smiling as they sat down at Jules’s table.

“Girl, wouldn’t you know my son broke his arm playing basketball about six weeks ago,” she said.

“Is he okay?” Jules asked, concerned.

“Oh, yeah, he’s fine,” Sharifa said with a flick of her wrist. “He just came in to get his cast taken off today. Of course, he doesn’t want his momma hoverin’ over him,” Sharifa said, rolling big, almond-shaped eyes. “So I came down here to grab a coffee until he’s done.”

Sharifa shook her head and smirked. “Sixteen-year-old boys.
Think they all grown until they get hurt, then they need they momma. But when everything is okay, they go right back to their old selves.”

Jules laughed.

“So what about you, Jules, what you doing sitting out here like you a visitor? Don’t you work here anymore?” Sharifa asked, half-jokingly.

If she only knew.

“Yeah. But today was a day off. I just had to come in quickly to do some stuff, though.”

Sharifa raised an eyebrow.

“You coming in here on your day off?” she asked. “Girl, you worse than me.”

Jules laughed. “You’re probably right. I am glad I ran into you, though, ‘cause I wanted to ask you something. How did you end up going into artist promotion full-time?”

Sharifa took a sip of her coffee and looked thoughtful as she seemed to consider Jules’s question.

“Well, I guess things were different for me,” she said. “When I just got out of school, I couldn’t get a full-time gig like you. I just kept getting a lot of contract deals. Six months here, eight months there, a temporary project or two, but nothing fulltime.

“In between all of that, I used to do a lot of work for friends who were putting on concerts, and I got a good feel for that.

“After about three years I got tired out bouncing around. I realized I really liked the gospel entertainment scene and that there was a void in the industry when it came to properly trained, experienced public relations reps. Plus, all my moving around had helped me develop a long list of potential clients and contacts. So, I just decided to take a risk and do my own thing.”

Jules nodded as she listened. The way Sharifa explained it made it all sound so easy.

“How hard was it to get started?”

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Jules. It wasn’t a smooth transition,” Sharifa said. “I couldn’t just think like a publicist anymore;
I had to think like a businesswoman as well. I had to map out my finances, set my budgets and goals for the year. And I also had to make a lot of hard decisions.

“Sometimes it meant not taking on a client I really believed in because I knew that I would end up taking a loss instead of making a profit on them. Other times it meant sinking my own money into the venture.

“On top of all that, I had to learn how to get out there and sell my business to people. It wasn’t just about my skills anymore; it was about how I could make the most out of the budget they gave me. I had to prove to them that what they were paying me to do was having a direct effect on their bottom line, and when you’re talking to people who don’t think like we do, you know that can be difficult.”

Jules definitely understood that. Sometimes it was near impossible to convince her bosses—both at Triad and the hospital—that the money they spent managing their images would directly affect the profitability of their companies.

Sharifa looked at Jules closely. “Is this something you’re thinking of doing?”

Jules nodded. “But I’m not one hundred percent sure yet, so don’t spread it around.”

Sharifa nodded. “I understand. It’s a decision you have to make for yourself. Not every communicator is meant to have her own business. I’m not trying to hate on you; I’m just telling you how it is. You have to know for yourself if it’s something you can handle.”

Jules nodded. “What other sorts of things should I be considering?”

As they sat in the café in the after-lunch lull, Sharifa told Jules some of what she had learned from her own experience in the business. They discussed everything, from the best way to get started, to what to watch out for. When Sharifa’s son eventually called and told his mother he was ready, almost forty-five minutes had passed.

As Sharifa stood up to leave, she pulled out her card and handed it to Jules.