raise the funds. I’ve got money, but I guess the kind of place you’re talking about could take, like, millions of dollars.’
‘I’m not asking you to fund us, Electra, but to maybe use your profile to help it happen. You get what I’m saying?’
‘I think so. I’m sorry, Miles, I have zero experience in this kind of stuff, so I need you to guide me.’
‘I was hoping you could get some network coverage for the centre,’ he said. ‘I could ask some of the kids who’ve come through these doors over the years if they’d be prepared to be interviewed alongside you and say how it’s helped them.’
‘That’s a great idea,’ I agreed. ‘I’m up for anything.’
‘Good. Now, come on, let’s go. This place depresses me right now.’
As we walked outside, I could hear the sound of rap being played on a tinny radio in the bodega next door.
‘So,’ he said, looking at me as we stood on the sidewalk, ‘you wanna go take a look at where your pa found you? We can walk it from here.’
I stood in an agony of indecision.
‘Listen, let’s take a stroll towards it; it’s a place you should see anyway while you’re here in Harlem,’ he said.
‘Okay,’ I agreed, my stomach doing one of those weird plungey things and sending my heart rate up at the thought.
As we walked, I tried to stay calm and take in the streets around me. Even though some of the brownstones were crumbling away – windows filled with cardboard and overflowing trash cans – it was obvious from the hipster cafés we were passing and the scaffolding erected around a number of the conversions that this area was being gentrified. We passed a large red-brick building and had to step off the sidewalk and onto the road to pass the crowd that was standing outside. They were all dressed formally, in colourful suits and dresses with matching hats, and as I stepped back onto the sidewalk, I saw a car decorated with flowers pull up outside.
‘That’s Sarah and Michael getting hitched,’ Miles commented. ‘She’s one of my success stories; I helped her fight to get an apartment when she was living in a women’s shelter,’ he added as a young woman dressed in an enormous wedding gown of shiny white satin manoeuvred herself out of the back seat of the old car. The crowd waiting outside what I now realised was a church clapped and cheered her and started to funnel inside.
‘Let me go give her a hug,’ Miles said, and walked back swiftly towards the bride. The woman turned and smiled at him as he embraced her.
‘So you know people around here?’ I asked as he came back.
‘Sure I do. I moved here five years ago, after I got clean. That’s my church,’ he added as we watched a man who had to be the bride’s father take his daughter’s hand and lead her inside. ‘It’s super nice to see a happy ending – it fires me up to keep pushing for help for these kids,’ Miles continued as he began to walk at some pace and I doubled my stride to keep up with him.
‘So, what kind of lawyering do you actually do?’ I asked.
‘After law school, I was recruited by a top firm to join their litigation department – that’s where lawyers bill the most hours – and I made money hand over fist. Which I then spent as fast as I could, putting it up my nose and pouring it down my throat. The pressure was something else. Then I got clean and even though it meant a big salary cut, I decided to transition to a smaller firm, where I get a lot more opportunity to take pro-bono cases.’
‘What are they?’
‘Cases like Vanessa’s. In crude terms, my law firm lets me take on charity cases for free. And yeah, I wish I could do more, but even I gotta pay my bills.’
‘That makes you sound like a very good person, Miles,’ I said as the road led upwards and I reckoned we were heading in the direction of Marble Hill.
‘It makes me someone trying to be a good person, but I fail more often than I succeed,’ Miles shrugged. ‘But that’s okay too. Since I came back to Jesus, I understand that it’s all right to fail as long as you are trying.’
‘What do you mean, you “came back to Jesus”?’ I asked him.
‘My whole family – in fact, my whole community