Poet LaMon’s lackluster fiction debut tells us what it’s like to be young, black . . . and confused.
Nia Benson is ready to reinvent her life, starting with her resume. No more glorified receptionist gigs for her, not after being fired from TV commercial production firm Feinstein Films. Her boss may have been kind enough to call her an administrative assistant, but his obnoxious, incompetent niece called her “nigga girl” behind her back. Then Jonathan Feinstein did the unthinkable and let Nia go; she’s still angry, despite the check with enough zeros after the number to soothe anyone’s hurt feelings. Should she cash it, or sue him? Then there’s Jerome Carrington, her first love, who’s marrying somebody else. How much should she cry, and when, and why? Tune in tomorrow and segue to the unrelated story of Seth Jackson, musical entrepreneur and manager of ultracool bands that haven’t hit it big yet. Seth’s habit of hanging at the clubs distresses longtime love Lauren, who’s also upset because he can’t commit but can’t exactly let go, since she’s the niece of his business partner. Catching the bride’s bouquet at a wedding they attend, Lauren bursts into tears—but, hey, Seth is cool with that. Women have their mysterious ways, right? Life is a river, and he just lets it flow. Back to Nia, who’s been sending out resumes and hanging at poetry clubs with her tough-talking friend Grace. Lesbian poet Vaughan Gonzalez has the hots for her, but Nia’s not interested. She’s on her way to LA to a fabulous job in public relations, even though she has no experience and no credentials. Uh-oh: seems that Vaughan recommended her, and Grace (suddenly out of the closet) is piqued. But all’s well when Lauren and Nia meet at a Malibu beach house, and Seth meets Nia . . . and then . . . and then . . . .
Choppy plot and multiple points of view, awkwardly handled.