Chapter Twenty
Takira
“I’m on my way.” Naz’s deep voice on speaker sends a frisson of pleasure over me.
“Good,” I reply, looking in the mirror at my half-done makeup. “I’ll be ready.”
“I haven’t been to many premieres and I haven’t seen much of Canon’s work, to be honest.”
“Well, this is a documentary.” My hands dither between the Pat McGrath and Tarte eye shadow palettes. “So not quite as glamorous as the Dessi Blue premiere will be, but everything Canon makes garners attention.”
“I can’t wait to show you off on the red carpet,” he says, the same pride in his voice that’s always there when we go out.
“Um, about that…” I sit in front of the mirror, dreading this conversation. “I was thinking maybe we shouldn’t walk the red carpet tonight.”
The silence on the other end of the phone clogs up with his frustration before he agrees and we hang up. He already knows why. In the two weeks since we’ve been back, we’ve seen each other every day, every night. Sometimes he stays at my place. Sometimes I’ll stay over at his. Sometimes…we say good night at the door and I ache for him, but it’s a sweet ache because I know I’ll see him again. Sweet because I know he’s aching, too. It’s a relationship. Not a one-night stand, a hook-up, a booty call, a fling, or a smash and grab.
It’s us, and it feels as fragile as a bubble blown and floating in the air—as strong as an oak tree that has withstood storms. It’s playing catch-up and it’s ahead of its time.
It’s everything I had become too jaded to believe in or hope for.
Only one spot has marred such a perfect start.
I still haven’t told Cliff. Or my parents, for that matter. Of course, Janice knows, and keeps urging me to tell them. She says rip the Band-Aid off. It’s a point of contention between Naz and me, so we don’t talk about it much. He’s not going anywhere, and I don’t want him to. But at some point, I’ll have to tell Cliff. He’s just doing so well with his job, with his kids, with his life. Better than he’s been in a long time. If I did anything to hurt that, I’d never forgive myself. I’m not giving up Naz, though. My love for my brother and my…feelings for Naz are on a collision course.
It's too soon to say love.
Right?
I don’t know that I’ve ever actually been in love before, but if it feels any deeper, any richer than this—if it moves you more—I may not be able to stand it.
I check the mirror propped against the wall in my bedroom.
Damn, I look good.
It’s not just the silk dress that clings to all my curves from breast to thigh and then ends with a flare of tulle above my knees. Or the perilously high heels that tie up in straps around my calves. With my braids gone, I’ve styled my natural hair into a frothy halo of textured waves and curls. To garnish the sexy image, my diamond T charm glints against the lingering tan of my throat. I’m putting the finishing touches on my lipstick when the phone rings again. I grab it and glance at the screen.
Mama.
My heart seizes a little every time I see her name onscreen. I know it’s ridiculous, but I flash back to the night she called screaming and crying so much I couldn’t understand a word she said. And once I did understand, the horror of what had happened to Cliff… I’ll never forget that. I shake off the memory and answer.
“Hey, Mama.”
“Tee, hey, baby. How you?”
Some of the leftover tension drains from my shoulders as her accent breezes over me, stronger today, as it often is after she talks with any of our family still living in Trinidad.
“I’m good. How you?”
“Fine. You talk to Neecey?”
“We texted yesterday.” I sit on the edge of my bed and admire how the white polish on my toes looks with my tan. “Everything okay?”
“I just got off the phone with her not too long ago.” A brief pause breaks the flow of Mama’s words. “You heard about that retirement thing they’re doing for Coach Lipton?”
I draw in a deep breath and blow it out before answering. “I heard something about it, yeah.”
“They’ve asked Cliff to say a few words.”