No Cap, Just Dreams Part 1

The gentle glow of Chika Harris’s three monitors was the only light still lit on the 38th floor of AetherTech. It was Friday night at 8 PM. Again. Her fingers, that blur of proficient keystrokes, were still. She looked at the lines of code, not seeing solutions, but seeing cages. Another of her brilliant ideas had been relegated by her boss, a guy whose biggest innovation was how to microwave fish and not get fired.

A complete whole mess,” she grumbled to the vacant, ergonomic-chair-studded office. The frustration was a low, constant thrum in her veins, louder than any server farm. She was fed up with constructing someone else’s empire on her brain, her sweat, her soul. She wanted to construct her own.

That night, over a glass of Malbec in her sleek, contemporary apartment, she did the math. The savings account, the nice 401k, the stocks… it was an intimidating number to look at. It was enough.

“Lord, give me strength,” she prayed, and steadying her shaking hand quickly, she started the transfers. She was going to build “Verdant Logic,” a technology firm that put intuitive design and ethical data practices at the center of its agenda, here in Green Springs.

Those first few months were a terrifying blur of business licenses, vendor contracts, and cold-emailing potential clients. She was about to be buried under an avalanche of “we’ll keep you in mind” when she got the golden ticket: an invite to the “Innovate & Elevate” tech mixer.

It was there that she literally collided with Royce Allen. Okay, her cosmo collided with his Brooks Brothers suit.

“Oh, my fault! I apologize!” she faltered, taking napkins.

He turned around, and Chika’s breath hitched. The Royce Allen. Boy-wonder creator of “NexGen Robotics,” whose TED Talks she had watched while working late one evening. He was improved in person, with good eyes that crinkled at the corners and a smile that wasn’t scripted, but authentic.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned. “A sip or two never hurt Italian wool. You’re Chika Harris, aren’t you? I read your paper on algorithmic bias. It was fire. For real.”

He’d read her paper. He’d called it fire.

That was where it started. Royce, unexpectedly to her, became a mentor, then simply a friend. He introduced her to individuals, critiqued her business plan “Solid. Just adjust your cap table right here, sis.”, and sent inspirational texts that invariably always managed to arrive at exactly the moment when she was ready to quit.

And the feelings… ah, they started growing like a rising tide. During late-night strategy sessions over the phone, his laughter would warm her up over the receiver. He’d deliver coffee to her taken-over office, just the way she liked it. The chemistry was undeniable, a spark between them.

But Chika was scared. This was her baby, her dream. Business and pleasure? That was a recipe for disaster that she’d witnessed too many times. And a man like Royce? He probably had women at his feet daily. She wasn’t going to risk her heart and her business. So she pulled back. Hard.

She no longer answered his calls. Messages went unread for weeks, then months. She threw herself into work, the same thing she had run away from, now her refuge.

Three months went by, and all her attention was focused on Verdant Logic. She looked to her support network for solace. With best friend Dezi, there were mandatory fun nights out.

Bih, you been walking around like you calculating world hunger in your mind all week. Nuh-uh. We going to Sway,” Dezi would say, dragging her along.

And! Where at Sway, the hippest jazz club in Green Springs, they’d let their hair down. “Two Henny gingers, and keep ’em coming!” Dezi’d bellow over the music. They’d dance, laugh, and worry not a thing. “Chika, that man fine and all,” Dezi once bellowed, “but if you don’t want him, that’s his loss. Now pop yo’ shoulders, girl! You stiff as a board!”

Other nights, it was comforting family dinners at her parents’ home, where the scent of pot roast and collard greens soothed her soul.

“How’s my shining daughter?” her father, Frank, would ask, hugging her in a bearlike squeeze that felt like safety itself.

Her mother, Beverly, would listen patiently after peach cobbler. “Mama, I think I made a mistake,” Chika admitted one night. “With Royce. He was just… too much.”.

Beverly smoothed out her hand. “Baby, you can’t run a business on fear. In work or in love. Your father and I didn’t. If life sets a good man in your path, you don’t have to make a break for it, but you can’t hide forever, either. He’ll find you.”

She didn’t believe her.

Then there was the “Future Vision” conference. Chika went, at least on a panel, discussing the future of ethical AI. She killed it. Strutting off stage, adrenaline pumping, she took a corner and there he was.

Royce. Stood against a wall, folded arms, as if he’d waited only for her. His eyes locked hers, and the room emptied of all air.

“Chika.”

“Royce. Hi. I… I saw your keynote. It was amazing.”

“Yours was better,” he said, sliding off the wall and taking a step forward. “Why’d you leave me hanging?”

The words tumbled out. “I was frightened. The company, you… it was too much. I didn’t want to mess it up.”

He shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. “You don’t think I work with just anyone? You think I waste my time with every person who comes up with a brilliant idea? Chika, I was counting on you. Not your business.”

She felt her eyes well up with tears. “I’m sorry.”

“We can’t be in denial,” he said gently and genuinely. “I tried for three months. It didn’t work.”

“Me too,” she admitted, her walls finally breached.

He put out his hand, his fingers brushing hers, and the tension was there, more powerful than ever.

After that, everything was different. Verdant Logic began to soar, landing its first big client. And in the midst of the inevitable theatrics of two high-wired, Type-A personalities getting it together last-minute cancellations, conflicting deadlines, the gossip sites trying to track their romance, Chika and Royce inseparable like glue.

She still looked to her parents for their down-to-earth counsel. She still needed Dezi to drag her out for a night of rocking up and putting her problems out of mind.

But now, she had Royce too. To brainstorm with, to party with, to rely on. She’d built her ideal company, and in the process, she’d unknowingly opened the door for the man of her dreams to finally step in and stay. And it was all that it was supposed to be.