Chapter 5
Chapter Five
“Get dressed. We’re going out,” Liv demands as she bounds down the stairs, startling me out of the book I’m reading. Damn . I was just getting to the good stuff.
“What about Esme?”
My roommates and I spent the entire day cleaning our house for tomorrow’s graduation party. And while I’ve been relaxing on the couch in my pajamas, engrossed in a romance book on my e-reader, Esme went out to get her nails done.
“She’s on her way home.”
“Where are we going?” I’d rather stay home and work through this book, but I keep my thoughts to myself. Liv has been on my neck for missing the party tomorrow. Esme is more understanding, though. Had Victor surprised her with a weekend at the Brathwaite, she would’ve ditched our asses in a heartbeat.
Liv perches gracefully atop the arm of our dove-gray sofa, gliding her hand through the silky strands of her new weave, styled in a half-up, half-down do that cascades like a chocolate waterfall down her shoulders. Her warm-brown skin glows in her signature color—white. “To Harry’s for some wings and cheap booze.”
“Oh, I’m definitely in,” I reply eagerly, already imagining sinking my teeth into their famous wings. “But first, I need to change.”
“Cool. This will give us a chance to talk to Esme,” she says, an air of determination in her tone.
That catches my attention. I sit up, staring at her intently, my senses heightened. “About what? What’s wrong with Esme?”
Liv directs her gaze upward, irritation flashing across her features. A wave of relief washes over me as it becomes clear that nothing catastrophic has happened. “It’s Victor,” she explains tersely. “I don’t trust him.”
My guard immediately goes up again. It’s been six days since I encountered Victor and Isabella on the street, and I haven’t seen him since. “Did something happen?”
“I think he’s playing her,” she replies with conviction.
“You think he’s cheating?” A wave of disappointment and anger crashes into me. How could he do that to her? “Do you have proof?”
“No. And I’m not talking about cheating—but who the hell knows? I think he’s playing games, for sure.”
“But how?”
“I think she’s more into him than he is into her.”
“Okay, that sucks. But it doesn’t mean he’s playing games, as long as they’re honest about their feelings for one another. I think they’re really into each other. I know you hear them at night too.”
“Great sex doesn’t mean a great relationship, Sky. We can’t all be so lucky, Mrs. Soon-to-be-Davenport.”
Not that soon , but I get her point.
A coy smile grows on my lips. “I don’t kiss and tell. You know that.”
“Which is so unfair. You know I haven’t had sex in, like, a billion years.” Liv went on a sex cleanse eighteen months ago after her cheating ex-boyfriend dumped her for his pregnant side piece.
“Do you miss it?” I know better than to ask her if she misses her ex. I already know the answer to that. He’s dead to her, as he rightly should be.
“What? Sex?”
“Yeah.” I can’t imagine going eighteen months without it now that I’ve had it.
“Hell yes. But I’m holding out for someone special. Ian has set the bar, girl. You guys are relationship goals. With your light-skinned Ken and Barbie-looking asses.”
“Whatever.” Laughing, I roll my eyes.
“I’m serious, though. I love y’all.”
Liv’s impression of Ian and me as the perfect couple is based on the image I present to her—an image I present to most people. Whenever Ian and I have problems, there are only three people I feel comfortable confiding in. Ms. Sharon, because she’s been like a second mom to me. My friend Novalee, because she’s a great listener and the kind of wife and mother I hope to be one day. And Esme, because she knows me better than anyone. But even they don’t know everything.
I keep my family at a distance from my relationship problems. The worst thing that could happen is they end up hating Ian over an argument or situation that I’ve long since forgiven him for. Winning Niko over to Team Ian was the easiest because they belong to the same Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity. Yasmine and my dad followed suit shortly after.
“Did Esme say anything to you about problems in her relationship?” I redirect our conversation to Esme and Victor, feeling out of the loop that I even have to ask. Esme has always confided in me about her relationships. But now, it seems like she’s keeping secrets from me. My chest tightens at the thought that she may not trust me anymore. When did Esme stop sharing her secrets and problems? Since she’s been with Victor, my subconscious answers. Other than their amazing sex life, I’m in the dark.
“You know Esme. She will say everything is fine in her relationship, even if it isn’t.”
You have us confused. “She’s never kept something like that from me. We tell each other everything.”
Liv winces. “Yeah, but this is different.”
I’m afraid to ask, but I scrounge up my courage and ask, “How so?”
She huffs. “You know that I know, right?”
I swallow hard, pushing my glasses up my nose nervously. “Know what?”
“That you once had a thing for Victor.”
A pit forms in my stomach. I told Esme that in confidence. Why would she tell Liv? And why bring it up now? Unless…
“Does Esme think I still have feelings for him?” I blurt out, unable to keep the panic out of my voice.
“No,” Liv responds, her voice resolute and unwavering. “God, no.”
Relieved but also confused by the whole situation, I let out a shaky breath. “Then why did she even bring it up?”
“I don’t know. It was just one of the things she mentioned in passing. It wasn’t that deep. Honestly, I was shocked when Esme told me you used to like him because you’re you, and he’s…him.” She lets out a small laugh. “But I get it. He’s sexy as fuck.”
The urge to agree with Liv is strong, but I resist. “He’s always been…popular.”
“ Popular. ” She scoffs. “He’s a fuckboy masquerading as boyfriend material. Those are the most dangerous kinds.”
Memories flood back from just a few weeks ago when Ian called him Skylar’s “fuck toy” and earlier this week Isabella referred to him as a “manwhore.”
“Maybe he’s changed,” I offer, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“For Esme’s sake, I hope so,” Liv says with a hint of doubt in her voice. “But I don’t know, girl. If anyone can break our girl’s heart, it’s Victor.”
“Yeah,” I agree, my thoughts lingering on the possibility.
Esme takes a long, unimpressed look at me, her gaze lingering on my mint-green cami dress that hugs my waist and flares out at the hip. She pauses at the ruched bust. “You’ve got the curves and the boobs to pull it off,” she comments with an air of detachment. “But it wouldn’t hurt if it was a tad bit shorter.”
I bristle at her suggestion. “You know that’s not my style.”
Seeming unfazed by my irritation, she shrugs indifferently. “I’m only trying to help you out.”
I didn’t ask for her fashion advice, and I’m not in the mood for it tonight. I’m still annoyed that she told Liv about my old crush on Victor. Everyone knows that Liv can’t hold water. What if it gets back to Ian? It’s unlikely, but still a possibility.
“I think I’m good. Thanks, though.”
With that tense back-and-forth hanging in the air, we gather our belongings and step out into the evening. The city lights flicker like distant stars against the backdrop of a dusky sky as we navigate our way through the familiar streets. The scent of rain still lingers from a brief afternoon shower; it mingles with the aroma of street food wafting from downtown eateries.
When we finally make it to Harry’s, we’re disappointed to find our regular table already taken. Other tables are vacant, but for old time’s sake, we decide to wait until our favorite spot is free again.
Liv sighs heavily. “I’m going to miss this,” she murmurs, her voice heavy with nostalgia.
Esme scoots into the chair next to mine. “Then don’t go to LA this fall. It’s too soon.”
Liv takes the seat across from us. “You don’t just turn down USC.”
“No, you don’t,” I say. “But we’re going to miss you.” I look at Esme sitting next to me, then across at Liv. These two ladies mean the world to me despite our occasional bickering. “We’ve had some good times.”
Liv grins. “Yeah, we have.”
Esme props her elbow on the table and rests her hand on her cheek. “The best,” she says with a sigh.
The college parties, the step shows, the road trips, eating greasy food late at night at Harry’s—we’ve had a time. But Ian’s right. This moment in our lives won’t last forever. Soon, we’ll have careers that will require much more adulting than we’re currently used to. There is a great deal of uncertainty that lies ahead. Especially since I’ll still be here when Esme leaves for LA and moves in with Liv.
Will we remain as close as we are now? Or will I lose them? Our sisterhood means the world to me, and I want to protect it at all costs.
A waitress comes to our table to take our orders, and after she delivers our drinks, Liv fills us in on her new living arrangements. “I’ll upgrade to a two-bedroom when you join me next summer,” she tells Esme.
Esme stirs her drink with its straw, stalling. “Yeah, cool.”
“You are joining me, right?”
“She will,” I answer for her. Esme’s wanted to be an actress since we were kids, taking part in every community play she could get her hands on before majoring in theater arts in college. She’s an incredible actress, singer, and dancer. And no one can deny her beauty and stage presence.
Avoiding eye contact, Esme takes a sip of her espresso martini. “It all depends.”
Liv cocks her head to the side, her curiosity piqued. “On what, exactly?”
“On how things go with me and my man.”
Liv and I share a look. It’s time for me to speak up. “You aren’t considering staying here in Houston for a guy, are you?”
Esme shrugs, a hint of defiance in her eyes.
“This is exactly what we worried about,” Liv adds, her expression a mix of displeasure and lack of surprise.
“We?” Esme pushes her ombre brown tresses out of her face, but a few strands of her naturally curly bob stubbornly spring back into her eyes. “Skylar would stay in Houston for Ian. So what’s the difference?”
“I love Houston.”
“And Ian put a ring on it,” Liv says.
Esme rolls her eyes. “Well, maybe Victor will do the same one day.”
Liv slumps back in her chair. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why can’t I be?”
“Because it’s Victor,” Liv retorts, without missing a beat. “That boy doesn’t have a marriage bone in his body.”
I reach for anything that can turn this situation around, trying to find a positive perspective. I have my doubts, though. “Has he indicated wanting to move things in that direction?”
“Not at all,” Liv answers for her.
Esme falls quiet, taking a long sip of her drink while she eyes Liv. She doesn’t want to talk about it —in front of me. I shouldn’t be jealous that she’s confided in Liv instead of me. Our twosome became a threesome years ago. And Esme and I may have history, but Liv was the missing puzzle piece to our sisterhood. Ironically, I still feel left out, even though Liv isn’t in my inner circle of confidants.
Esme stirs the ice in her drink. A hint of uncertainty lingers in her eyes, betraying her struggle to express herself. “Do you leave stuff over at Ian’s after staying the night? Like a toothbrush, tampons, or whatever.”
“All the time. Why?”
Liv folds her arms over her chest, waiting patiently for Esme to spill the tea she likely already knows. “A couple of days ago, when Victor spent the night, he brought a box of all my things.”
I grimace, my lips pulling tight over my teeth. “He did?”
“Yeah. And he was all like, ‘Here you go. You left all of this at my place,’ all chill and shit. And I was like, ‘Oh, thanks,’ but girl, he had me all the way fucked up.”
A bitter chuckle escapes from Liv’s lips. “Is it his millions that make you want to give up on your dreams, or is it his big dick?”
Esme glares at her. “I have no fucking shame in admitting that, yeah, the money is nice. Real fucking nice. He has the type of money that can retire us for the rest of our lives. I’m talking about generational wealth. I’d be a fool not to consider the benefits of staying for as long as possible, maybe even giving him a baby.”
I choke on my drink. “What?”
“Can you imagine the type of child support I’d get?”
Liv stares at Esme in disbelief. “Oh, Lord. You have gone plum crazy.”
“I’m being smart. And who knows, maybe I can convince him to come to LA with me. We could live on the beach in Malibu or some shit like that.” She picks up her glass, about to take a drink. “And yes, his dick game is magic.”
Liv and I share another look. Holy shit. Holyfuckingshit. I feel all sorts of conflicting emotions right now. Some of which confuse the hell out of me. Others of which I won’t dare to label because if I do—even to myself—it’ll change everything. “So…” I clear my throat. “You want to trap him with a baby?”
“Who said anything about trapping him?” Esme’s voice pierces the air like a knife. “I’m his woman. He might be mad at first, but he’d get over it. I mean, look at me. My snatch back would be perfection, like Yasmine’s.”
“Now you’re talking about having babies over becoming a serious actress?” Liv states emotionlessly.
Esme sighs. “Try to keep up, Liv. I’m not sure what I’m going to do. Having a baby would be a last resort.”
I shake my head. “That’s wrong, Esme. You can’t just?—”
“You’re my friend, remember? You’re supposed to have my back. Unless you’re still obsessed with him.”
A surge of heat rushes to my face. “I was not obsessed with him.”
“You a damn lie.” Her words are like venom, laced with spite and malice. “But he didn’t want you. Remember that.”
A scowl forms on my face, my lips twisting into a deep frown as her words hit their mark. “What are you going to do, E? Poke holes in the condom? Use a turkey baster? That sounds like some classless shit you’d do.” She’s told me that they still use condoms every time at Victor’s insistence.
“Oh shit,” Liv says in an almost whisper but higher pitched than usual.
“Bitch, fuck you.”
“Fuck you too,” I fire back. I don’t think Esme would stoop that low in trying to have his baby. I only said it because she’s pissing me the hell off.
“Y’all. People are staring,” Liv says, her eyes darting around us.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, embarrassed by my behavior.
“Me too,” Esme grumbles, her tone slightly softer now.
“What we’re not going to do is turn on each other. You love her, and she loves you, so make up already.”
“I said I was sorry,” Esme says. “But this is life—my life. You think he’s not using me for my head game or the well of wonder I have between my legs?”
“This bitch said the well of wonder,” Liv mutters, quietly chuckling.
“And do you think Ian isn’t using you as his trophy? I’m not saying he doesn’t love you,” she quickly adds. “But come on, Sky, get real. Everybody uses everybody.”
My nostrils flare as indignation surges through me. “I’m not using Ian.”
Her eyes narrow. “You want Ian to fill a void your parents never filled because they were too busy getting high.”
Our table falls silent as we process her words, tension surrounding us. Without a word, I take another gulp of my mojito and throw some cash on the table. “I’ll take an Uber home.”
Esme grabs my arm as I stand. “Sky, wait. Don’t leave.” Because she looks guilty, I sit back down. “I’m sorry. That was a fucked-up thing to say.”
“It’s fine,” I mutter, staring down at my lap to hide the tears threatening to spill over. Part of me knows she may be right. Am I using Ian to fill a void left by my dysfunctional family?
“No, it’s not fine, so don’t say it is.” Esme takes my hand under the table. “I love you, Sky. You’re my best friend in this whole fucked-up world.”
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat at first. “I’m sorry too.”
Esme’s brow knits in confusion. “For what?”
For feeling things for your boyfriend that I shouldn’t. “You’re not classless. We may not always agree, but I’ll always be there for you.”
“Guys,” Liv whines. “I love y’all.” She thumps her chest twice with her fist.
Despite everything, Esme and I share a giggle. “We love you too.”
“Real talk, though,” Esme starts, her tone serious once again. “He still hasn’t introduced me to his parents. And I’m talking about having his baby.”
“Exactly,” Liv agrees, slamming her hand on the table for emphasis. “So we can put all this crazy talk behind us.”
“Do you love him?” I ask, dreading her answer, as if her loving him or not will make me less of a shitty person.
“No,” she says after giving it some thought. “I could. But I need more from him—emotionally. And if I don’t get it, we’ll keep using each other until the wheels fall off this mutherfucka.”
“I heard that,” Liv says.
“If I’m going to love Victor, I want what Sky and Ian have.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “It’s not always roses and sunshine with us.”
“Y’all having problems?” Esme asks.
Liv’s head falls back with a loud sigh. “God, it’s me again. Should I give up now on finding a good man or what?”
“On paper, it’s what I’ve always wanted,” I confess, feeling vulnerable. “But what’s on paper doesn’t always translate to real life. Lately, he’s been different—a little harsh and brutally honest. It didn’t used to be like that.”
“What do you mean harsh and brutally honest ?” Esme asks, concern written on her face.
“Yeah, what Esme said. We’re going to need you to be crystal fucking clear.”
“He’s not the villain in a love story. I know he loves me. But sometimes I wonder if I can make him happy without losing who I am.” I’ve never expressed this, not even to myself, so saying it aloud is ten times harder. “He wants a subservient girl who does whatever he says—no questions asked because he knows everything—and whose life revolves around him and his needs. But it’s not who I want to be. I want to be more independent and more vocal about what I want—want I need for this to work.”
“Tell him how you feel,” Liv stresses. “Because this is not okay.”
“I don’t want to come off as the nagging fiancée. It’s not like I’m perfect, with all my intimacy issues.”
Esme presses her lips together, squinting her eyes in confusion. “Did he tell you that you had intimacy issues?”
“I didn’t grow up in an overly affectionate household. You know that.”
“Fuck that shit. You’re one of the most nurturing people I know,” Esme says.
“Yeah, fuck him,” Liv agrees, sounding like a hype man.
A giggle slips from my lips despite the heavy conversation. “I don’t know what I’d do without y’all.”
Esme rests her head on my shoulder. “Same, girl. Same.”
Liv holds up her fruity vodka cocktail. “Finish your drinks, ladies. The next round is on me. But first, let’s toast.”
Esme grins. “To what?”
I lift my glass. “To friendship?”
“No,” Liv says. “To sisterhood.”
As we raise our glasses and clink them together, we all speak in harmony. “To sisterhood.”