“Yes. I need to be better about local elections because those matter, but yes.”

“Okay, same. Your turn?” Amanda took her own spoonful, doing a little dance as she enjoyed the sticky sweetness of the caramel sauce.

“Biggest fear.”

“Oh, that’s tough. It’s somewhere between hurting my mom’s feeling in some horrible way I can’t take back and being sex trafficked.”

“Same,” Sam laughed.

“Really?”

“Yes, my mom or my grandmother. And I feel like there are few things worse than being sex trafficked. Doing life for something I didn’t do thanks to lazy crime-scene investigation is up there.”

“I thought you were going to say some artsy shit like not living every day to the fullest.”

“Nah, doing a bid unjustly in solitary sounds way worse. Not that solitary is ever just.”

“Agreed. Okay. I’m coming in hot with this one. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready. Hit me.”

“If you could work on any project next, what would it be? This is a safe space. I will not tell your agent or your brothers or whatever. Just you and me. If you could do anything. Tell me.”

Sam took a deep breath and tried his hardest to access the truth. There wasn’t a clear answer that jumped to the forefront ’cause the truth was he didn’t live on Planet Black Actors Get Whatever They Want. He had to learn to manage his dreams a long time ago to stop from crushing his own heart and his passion along with it.

“Tell me. Speak it into existence. What’s the project?” Amanda said, urging him on.

“Okay. I’ll give you my top three—I should make you sign an NDA.”

Amanda laughed, playfully shoving at his knee. “Just tell me.”

“Okay. I don’t know if you’re familiar with Bill Pickett but he was one of the first Black bulldoggers. He paved the way for Black men, and women, to compete in the rodeo. I’d love to do his biopic. I wouldn’t have to be in it, but I’d love to produce it.”

“Okay. You should definitely be in it. If I had a ton of cash I’d write you a check right now. What else?”

Sam swallowed and dug a little deeper. He hadn’t been this honest with anyone other than Zach in a while. “You read comics?”

“I dabble.”

“Well, I’ve heard rumors that they are finally going to move on a Black Death movie.”

“Sam!” Of course she’d heard of Black Death. The comic about the Grim Reaper who inhabited the body of Malcolm Vance, a Black Marine who had nearly died in Vietnam, had been around for decades.

“I’d love to play Malcolm. That shit would be fun as hell.”

“Okay, I know we are talking about wildest dreams, but have you told your agent?”

“No.”

“Why?”