“She may not be a public figure,” Angie says. “But she’s sleeping with one, and she’s related to one. Her name is Bristol Gray, for those who may have missed it since you’ve been hiding her, and her brother is Rhyson Gray—now that’s a big name. You don’t mess around. Go white or go home, huh?”
“I came on this panel to talk about issues,” Grip says. “Real issues that are costing us lives and compromising our future. You, however, chose to talk about shit that doesn’t matter and isn’t anyone’s business but mine and my girlfriend’s. I bet the men sitting in jail too long for petty crimes, or for crimes they didn’t even commit, those looking for jobs or needing education to even compete for them, all the people I want to help won’t give a damn if the person helping has a white girlfriend or not.”
Grip stands, reaching to loosen the mic from the collar of his T- shirt.
“So, I say, with all due respect, Angie.” He holds the mic in his hand, farther away from his mouth, but there’s no mistaking his parting. “Go fuck yourself.”
He flings the mic onto the couch, leaving various degrees of shock and satisfaction on the faces of those who remain.
“Peeps, you heard that.” Angie turns her gaze to the camera. “Now I want to hear from you. Where do you stand on Black men pretending to be all woke, but first chance they get, going for a white woman? Leave comments on YouTube, on Facebook, tweet us, tag us on Instagram. Hashtag #PlayingInTheSnow.”
She levels a more parting smile at her watching audience, the kind of smile you give when things go exactly as you’ve planned.
Chapter 14
Grip
“SHIT!”
The expletive bounces off the walls of the narrow corridor as I leave the stage and head for the greenroom to collect my things. I can’t believe I allowed that conniving chick to lure me into that trap.
“Grip!”
I don’t turn even though I hear Qwest right on my heels and calling my name.
“Grip, stop.”
I’m still not stopping. Rage pumps toxins into my bloodstream, and I might poison anyone I make contact with right now.
“Man, hold up,” Qwest says louder, irritation lacing the words. “Grip.”
“What?”
The word cannons from my mouth, and I turn around abruptly, Qwest slamming into my chest. Breathing like a bull, air streams from my nostrils. Angie Black is the red flag I can’t get out of my head. How dare she use a panel on such important issues to create drama? And to bring Bristol into it, to call her name and imply that I’m embarrassed to be with her. My jaws hurts, my teeth are locked so tightly together.
“About what happened out there—”
“You mean the ambush?” I snap.
“Yeah. I didn’t know anything about it.”
“Really?” A scoffing gush of air rushes past my lips. “You expect me to believe that? Don’t give me that shit, Q.”
“Who you think you talking to?” The goodwill on Qwest’s face gives way to irritation. “You better act like you got some sense talking to me.”
“So, it’s just coincidence that we ended up on this panel together? You’re asking me to believe you didn’t know things would go left like that?”
“I don’t care what you believe.” Qwest’s anger clashes with mine in the tight space. “My cousin was snatched when we were twelve years old. There were no TV cameras, no vigils, no magazine covers for months wondering what happened to her. She was just gone, and we never saw her again, never got answers. That’s why I’m here, not for your conceited ass.”
Real pain etches itself onto her face, and regret pinches in my chest.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have questioned your motives.” I blow out a frustrated breath and drag my hand over my jaw. “That was just some sideways shit I didn’t see coming, and this was not the time or the place for her to pull that.”
Qwest nods, something close to sympathy filling her dark eyes. Finally, we sigh in sync, each of us letting go of our anger at the same time.
“I swear I didn’t know,” Qwest says, her voice softer. “What Angie did out there, it wasn’t cool, and I’m sorry she went out like that.”
I tilt my head back to study the ceiling for a second before lookin