Page 67 of Go Back to December

“Seriously?” I can’t hide my disbelief.

“Wild, right?” Dooley says. “I, too, thought you had to be human in order to represent our rights. The law is nothing but shades of gray.”

“Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Bed.”

“What does the Human Rights practice do?” I ask.

“Not much at Blackhart & Steele,” Dooley murmurs.

“I lead the pro bono cases,” Baz retorts. “And supervise investigations, anti-corruption training and policies for the corporate clients.”

“He’s like internal affairs in those cop shows,” Dooley whispers. “Everyone’s afraid of him.”

The last few days have been a roller coaster of emotions and revelations, but this feels like that moment when you look through a kaleidoscope and the colors finally filter and coalesce into a patterned shape.

Baz is a Money Honey who likes nice things.

And he might also be a Money Honey who does good things.

“MelJo?” Dooley waves a hand in front of my face. “Do you want a pillow?”

Baz snarls, and it snaps me back to attention. I pull myself up into a seated position. “So, we have to make up for Blackhart & Steele’s cutbacks with other funding.”

“More than that. You need to separate from them completely. Re-position them as a funder, not an owner.”

“That could take months! We have one week before the senior partners vote.”

“What about a small business loan?” Baz asks.

“Takes as long as a fundraising campaign. And we have no collateral.”

“There’s another option.” Dooley rifles through a stack and pulls out an article about the city grant approval meeting at the end of January.

“A local business grant? But that requires capital,” I say.

“There’s a new program that would allow you to waive capital investment for the first two years.”

I scan the article. “These are for critical services. Health and education.”

“You run workforce education training at the café,” Baz says, his lips twitching.

No doubt he’s recalling how I reamed him about his lack of involvement, not realizing the impact of his day job is exponentially greater. He had every right to be pissed off at me.

Dooley glances at the two of us, dimples flashing. “Discover anything else you want to share with us, MelJo?”

Only my pride slowly dying a thousand deaths.

I read the article again, paying closer attention to the sidebar outlining the different business structures eligible for grants.

“Oh, my God.” I grab Dooley’s arm, not daring to take my eyes off the page. “Dooley, you’re a genius.”

“I love hearing those words in bed.”

Baz whimpers.

“They’re making the grants available for B-Corps. Benefit corporations.” I look up from the paper and meet Baz’s warm gaze.

“You’ll have to explain that to Dooley in small words he’ll understand.”