Chapter 11 #2
I lean toward the front desk, abandoning my nausea for the sake of being nosy.
“What happened?”
“One of the staff exposed a guest’s private details to reporters,” the employee says. “They’re terminating him immediately. High-profile guest. Very sensitive situation.”
High-profile?
My gut drops. I remember now—last night with the reporters.
Jabari.
Tuh. Of course.
How I could manage to get wet for a guy who uses his fame to get people fired is beyond me.
“Right,” I mutter. “Cool. Thanks.”
I grab my bag tighter and head straight for the doors before anything else can happen to me because clearly, today is not my day.
“Where the hell were you?”
Zaza’s voice hits me before I can even get the key in the door.
She’s standing in the hallway with her bonnet on, her robe half-tied.
I sigh. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Don’t good morning me,” she snaps, stepping aside so I can come in. “It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. Where were you, madam?”
I step inside, drop my bag on the chair, and take a breath.
The entire bus ride home, I’d tried to come up with something— anything —that sounded reasonable.
I had nothing.
Every lie I rehearsed sounded stupid.
Slept at Tasha’s?
Too obvious and doesn’t explain why I turned off my location.
Got drunk and crashed on someone’s couch?
Even worse.
Was abducted by aliens and returned in time for tea?
Honestly? Maybe that’s the most believable.
But nothing leaves my mouth.
So I stall.
“I just… overslept.”
Her eyebrow climbs to God.
“In another borough?”
“Yes…” I drag, walking away from more questions.
She follows me into the kitchen like a detective shadowing a suspect.
“Well. Mum is furious,” she continues. “You missed church. Again.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Great.”
“Oh, it gets better,” she says, leaning on the counter. “She’s even madder at Jabari.”
My stomach dips.
“Why?”
“Because he didn’t go either,” she says. “And apparently, he was supposed to be there to ‘give testimony about perseverance in sports’ or something. Instead—” she gestures vaguely “disappeared.”
I keep my face very, very still.
“I mean, part of me is happy he’s finally catching some heat. But the other part feels bad and is worried. We haven’t talked since you two had your screaming match, and I think he’s still upset with us.”
“Hm,” I open the freezer and grab some water. “He’s a big bloodclaat man, if he feels a way about what I said, he’ll say something.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it.
“Besides, who cares if he stops coming around?” I take a mouthful, swish it around, then spit it into the sink. “I need a break from seeing his face anyway.”
My phone buzzes again.
Then again.
Za narrows her eyes.
Buzz.
I swallow.
Buzz.
She stares harder. “Who is blowing up your phone?”
I cave and glance down:
Jankro Jabari: hey.
Jankro Jabari: did you get home okay?
Jankro Jabari: can we talk?
Jankro Jabari: i don’t like the way you left.
Jankro Jabari: Francine. talk to me.
Me: look here big man, first of all, stop ring off my rassclaat phone.
Me: second, i said stop talking to me.
Me: third, ur sister is looking for you so answer her and u better not tell her anything or me and u gon end up inna war, seen? last night was a mistake and can neva happen again, alright? have a bless day.
I turn the screen face-down.
Za watches me.
I can feel heat crawl up my neck.
I inhale. Then exhale.
Then say the only thing I can:
“I need coffee.”
I yank the fridge open this time. Empty of anything I actually want. I check the top shelf. No coffee creamer.
Of course.
Za clears her throat behind me.
“Yeah… about that,” she says. “Jabari finished the last bit.”
I slam the fridge shut. “Ugh! I hate that parasite! Why is he always in my things?”
Za snorts. “Come on. Breathe. It’s just creamer. I’ll buy you a new one.”
“It’s my creamer,” I mutter, pacing. “He eats my food, drinks my coffee, ruins my life—”
“Okay, alright,” she says gently, reaching out and tugging me back toward the table. “Sit down before you combust.”
I drop into the chair, arms folded.
She sits beside me, bumping my shoulder lightly.
“He’s trying, you know,” she says softly. “He’s rough around the edges. But he’s still my brother.”
“I know,” I grumble.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t be annoyed,” she adds, smiling. “Just… don’t lose your mind over dairy substitutes.”
“But it’s my—”
“I know it’s yours,” She cuts in. “God, you are such an only child.”
I huff out a reluctant laugh.
Za’s always like this.
Soft. Forgiving. Patient in a way I don’t think I’ve ever been.
“Listen,” she continues. “I know that him being in our lives is an inconvenience. But it’ll get better. I swear. Just ease up a bit. And I swear I’ll talk to him too whenever he decides to answer the phone. But for now, just let the beef go.”
I sigh.
If only she knew how far I took ‘letting the beef go’ last night. Maybe one day I’ll tell her.
When I’m brave enough.
Someday.
But, for now, she’s happy. So I’ll just keep it that way.
“Fine,” I raise my hands in surrender. “I’ll let it go. And if it makes you feel better, I’ll even apologize for cussing him out.”
She raises her eyebrows.
Yeah, bet you didn’t see that one coming.
It’s easy to make a promise when you’ve already ensured the chances of it happening are zero to none, not after what I said in that text.
He may never want to see me again.
“Well, that’s very mature of you, Francine,” She snaps her fingers. “But don’t think I forgot. Where were you? With one of the roster boys playing make-up?”
My brain screeches.
Fuck! Why didn’t I think of that?
I slap on a grin.
“You got me! Haha.”
She lifts a brow. “Which one?”
“Huh?”
“Roster boys,” she clarifies. “Which one are you seeing again?”
I wave my hand. “Confidential.”
She laughs and rolls her eyes.
“Fine,” she says. “Keep your secrets. But if you end up crying over this mystery man, I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so.’”
“I’m not gonna cry,” I mutter, more to myself than her.
“Uh-huh. Anyway,” she stretches, smirking. “You free today?”
I blink. “Why?”
“Because it’s Saturday, the sun’s out, and I need retail therapy. And you clearly need a refresh after whatever sinful thing you did last night that made you miss church.”
“I do need new lipstick,” I confess instantly.
“Good,” she says, grinning. “Let’s go shopping.”
Two hours later, we’re in the city, and Zaza’s already knee-deep in bags. I trail beside her, pretending to care about shoes while my mind keeps looping back to last night.
Nope.
I shake it off and stare very hard at a pair of sunglasses instead.
“So,” Zaza says, trying on a hat in the mirror, “how was it?”
I groan. “Are we really doing this?”
“Obviously,” she says, fluffing her curls. “You’ve been humming since you got dressed. You’re lucky I didn’t make you take a pregnancy test.”
I snort. “You know I’m on birth control. And whatever else my mum decides to cook up for me.”
“Right,” she drags. “But did you remember to take it?”
“I fucking took both just to be sure.”
Her eyes widen. “Both?”
“Both.”
She puts the hat back slowly. “Alright. So you’re not pregnant. But all of that? You must really want nothing to do with that man.”
Before I can respond, her phone buzzes.
She checks the screen, and her face shifts.
“Hello?” she answers, wandering a step away from me.
Now I’m suspicious because, since when did she step away to answer phones? I pretend to keep browsing, but obviously I’m listening.
“Yeah… mm-hmm… No, I told her I would… Yeah— okay. Okay, alright.”
She hangs up and turns back.
“Heyyyy,” she says lightly. “Remember when you said you’d talk to Jabari and apologize?”
My stomach tightens.
“Yeah…”
“Well,” she says, adjusting her bag strap, “he’s on his way here.”
The sunglasses nearly slip out of my hand.
“He’s what?”
She smiles, all innocent. “Figured it’d be easier if you two just handled it in person.”
I blink.
Then laugh.
God must be punishing me for missing church.