Chapter 4
She was quiet for a moment. Then she let out a breath.
"I was engaged," she said finally. "About two years ago. Nigerian doctor. Yale undergrad. Harvard Med. His father is a judge, his mother's a professor. Exactly what my daddy wanted. What I said I wanted."
"But? I can hear the 'but.'"
She shrugged. "He was perfect. On paper. Good job. Good family. Pretty teeth. No golds. Good manners. He brought my mother flowers when we visited. Called my father 'sir.' Never raised his voice. Never got angry. Never felt any-fucking-thing."
"He was boring," she said. "Not just boring—safe. Like he'd been manufactured in a lab to be the perfect Nigerian husband. He didn't have a single edge."
I frowned. "Ma, what the fuck do you want then? I was too much, he was too little? You Goldilocks?"
She rolled her eyes. "That's not what I said."
"Nah, that's exactly what you said." I pointed at her. "You left me because you couldn't stomach what I was, then went and found yourself some squeaky-clean doctor and couldn't stomach his ass either. Wishy-washy ass."
"Chinedu—"
"And now you're a criminal defense attorney." I laughed, but there wasn't shit funny about it. "That's the part that really gets me."
Her expression tightened.
"You ain't like criminals when you were fucking me."
"I didn't leave you because you were a criminal."
"The fuck you didn't."
She raised her voice. "I left because your entire family operates a fucking international criminal enterprise."
"And now somebody gets caught operating one, they call you," I rebutted.
"That's my job."
"Right." I nodded slowly. "So the difference is they pay you six hundred dollars an hour to tolerate them."
"Six-fifty."
I stared at her.
She fought a smile.
"See? This is the shit I'm talking about."
"Being a defense attorney doesn't mean I approve of everything my clients do."
"But you stand next to them."
"Yes," she scoffed.
"You fight for them."
"That's literally my fucking job, Chinedu."
I gave her a long look. "Funny. I remember asking you to stand next to me, to fight for us."
That wiped the smile off her face.
For a second, neither of us said anything.
I looked away first. Seven years, and apparently there was still some shit I hadn't worked through.
"I need a drink for the rest of this conversation." She pulled on my hand. "And you're paying."
I laughed, letting her drag me to my feet. "You got a hundred dollars in your bra from me already."
"That's for my services." She started walking toward the street. "This is for my pain and suffering. Two different things."
I followed her, shaking my head.
The liquor store was a small, cramped spot on the corner of Fulton and something, with faded signs and a buzzer at the door. The fluorescents inside cast everything in that sickly yellow glow that made everyone look like they needed sleep.
Ayo pulled open the door, and a little bell jingled above us.
She immediately went to the liquor shelf, grabbing a bottle of Hennessy from the shelf.
"Get the good one," I said. "The XO."
She looked at the price tag and whistled. "You got richer. Taking money from your daddy now?"
"No. I own an IT firm."
She nodded. "So we’re both living the dream."
"Yes." I walked past her, grabbing a bottle of Macallan 18 for myself.
Ayo grabbed the bottle from my hand and placed both on the counter in front of the clerk.
"He's paying," she said, pointing at me.
"I know," the clerk laughed. "You got the look of a woman who knows her worth."
She smiled, and for a second, she looked like the girl I remembered.
I paid the clerk and we walked back out into the cool night air.
"You're quiet," she said as we walked.
"I'm thinking."
"About?"
I was thinking about Indigo back in that warehouse, but I said, "About your ex-fiancé," before opening my bottle and taking a swig.
"He left me," she said.
That caught my attention. "He left you? I thought you said he was boring to you. How'd you end up alone?"
"You don't have to sound so pleased about me being alone."
I chuckled.
"I cheated on him."
The words hung in the air between us.
"With who?"
"Doesn't matter." She shook her head. "What matters is I did it. In our bed. While he was at the hospital working a double shift. I had the man in my house, in my bed, on my sheets. And I didn't even feel guilty about it. Not until after. Not until I saw his face when he found out."
She took a drink from her bottle.
"He didn't yell. Didn't call me a bitch. Didn't break anything. He just looked at me. The heartbreak... the disappointment." She swallowed. "I think I would've preferred if he'd called me every name in the book."
I stared at her.
"I tried to apologize, begged to start over, told him all the shit people say after they do something they can't undo."
"What'd he say?"
"He told me, 'Belated love ain't worth shit.'"
I whistled low. "Doctor got bars."
"Shut the fuck up."
"I'm just saying."
"I begged him, Chinedu. It was so embarrassing."
Something ugly and bitter moved through my chest. "So now you know."
She looked at me. "Know what?"
"What it feels like to be standing there asking somebody you love not to leave while they've already decided they're gone."
Her face changed.
I took another drink, thinking my comment might have been petty. Actually, it was definitely petty.
Ayo nodded slowly. "Yeah. I know how it feels."
She sounded sad about it. Somehow that took all the satisfaction out of it.
"Are you done with the cheating?"
She laughed softly. "I don't have anyone to cheat on now. I'm alone. That's the whole point."
"That's not what I asked."
She met my eyes.
"Yes," she said finally. "I'm done. It was a wake-up call.
Losing him... realizing I'd become the kind of person my mother would be ashamed of.
" She paused. "He's about to get married, by the way.
Got over me in six months." She laughed bitterly.
"Him moving on hurt the fuck out of my feelings, and I’m the one who cheated. "
"That’s what your wishy-washy ass gets."
"You sound bitter," she rebutted.
"I am," I chuckled.
My phone rang. It was Diamond. I noticed it was after midnight, which meant we’d been walking and talking for about three hours. I pulled it out of my pocket and hit speaker.
"Where the fuck y'all at?"
"Off Fulton, walking."
"Have a seat. Drop me your location, Imma come pick y'all up. There’s a kickback at this one place. They got jerk wings and jollof."
"Bet." I hung up and texted her the location.
We sat down on some random brownstone steps.
"Does Diamond know? About the warehouse?" she asked.
"No. You're the first person I've told."
"What are you going to do now?"
"She told me to fuck off. I’m gonna fuck off. I got pride."
"I think you should tell her. It might give you some closure."
I grunted. "Maybe."