Chapter 25
T he rehearsal dinner got underway at the historic Oceanside Inn, its wraparound porch draped in white fairy lights. Soft jazz curled through the air.
The guests were lively, smiling between sips of wine, silverware clinking against china as they dined on soul food. A slideshow of childhood photos of Brooklyn and Davion played on loop behind the head table, cycling through toothless grins, birthday hats, and awkward stages while the bride and groom enjoyed the festivities.
Or tried to, anyway.
Mark only had eyes for Sunny. Clad in a lime green halter dress, she sparkled. Shined. And Luke sat next to her, his arm thrown casually yet possessively over the back of her chair. The same chair he’d pulled out for her when they first sat down.
It wasn’t real, but Mark’s jealousy sure was.
His jaw tightened every time that boy touched her.
Orion wasn’t much better, watching from the other side of the table, seething as his eyes tracked her every move. His parents managed to distract him occasionally, but it wasn’t enough.
“Daddy!”
Mark tore his eyes away from Sunny. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Brooklyn said. “Let’s go ahead and do the toasts.”
Mark nodded, wondering why the sound of Brooklyn calling him triggered him so much. The pressure, maybe. Knowing that it was a call-to-action. He’d always been her fixer, a role he relished. But that would be Davion’s place soon enough.
“Toasting is Orion’s department,” Mark said. “He’s the host. He should kick that off.”
Davion didn’t look happy about that, but he did what needed to be done.
A few moments later, Orion was standing, his drink in hand, a smug smile on his face.
“Yeah, I wanna welcome everybody to the rehearsal dinner. I’m the host, ” he emphasized, “so I suppose it’s my duty to give the first toast. On behalf of myself and my wife—“
“ Ex! ” Sunny whisper shouted.
“My bad. Ex-wife. Sorry, baby. I forget sometimes.”
Sunny rolled her eyes as quiet laughter sounded around the dining room.
“Anyway, I want everybody to raise their glasses to the happy couple. My son, Davion, and his lovely bride, Brooklyn. May your union be blessed, highly favored, and last forever.”
“Cheers!”
Sunny was impressed. Orion had managed to not embarrass his son or himself.
“He doesn’t seem so bad,” Luke whispered.
“Right now. Wait til he has a few drinks in him.”
Luke chuckled. “You want me to turn it up a little, or is this good?”
Sunny’s eyes met Mark’s. “No, we’re good for now.”
A few seats down, Tigra and Vince were talking. As far as Sunny knew, that boy was no more than 24 years old, if that. And across from them, her son Amari was flirting with Carmen.
Better her than Jules , she thought.
“I’m gonna run to the ladies room,” she said. “Be right back.”
She wasn’t in there thirty seconds when the door swung open behind her.
“Kez? What are you doing?”
The lock clicked, then he was on her, his lips on her neck.
“You’re driving me crazy, you know that?”
“What if somebody sees?” she whined, pressing into him.
“Every time he touches you, that shit pisses me off.”
Sunny moaned as his fingers found her nipples through the thin fabric of her dress.
“Somebody’s gonna notice.”
He answered that with a kiss—hot, needy, desperate, and unrelenting. In spite of herself, she wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed him to lift her onto the counter.
She managed to stay quiet while he fucked her senseless, but he didn’t. She finally had to choke him just to shut him up.
And he liked it.
Davion’s grandparents gushed over the happy couple. Brooklyn was polite and gracious, as she’d been taught, but her mind was elsewhere.
“Exciting times,” his grandmother was saying. “Oh, where’d your mom run off to? I have something for her.”
Davion’s eyes went to his mother’s place at the table. Brooklyn’s went to her father’s.
“You know what? I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll go find her for you.”
“Um, actually, I think I heard her say she was headed to the ladies room.” Brooklyn stood abruptly. “I need to go myself. I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.”
Brooklyn rushed down the hall, her lips curling in disgust. It wasn’t like her father to be this reckless.
She stopped short when she reached the end of the hallway, dreading walking around the corner. She didn’t want to see—or worse, hear —anything gross.
So she waited.
A few minutes later, the two emerged looking disheveled and happy, stopping abruptly when they rounded the corner.
“Hey!” her father said, far too loud and enthusiastic for the circumstance.
“Surprised?”
He glanced at Sunny. “No. Just—“
“Look, save it. I already know. Davion’s grandmother is looking for you, and by the way, when y’all leave at the same time, it’s hella obvious and embarrassing.”
Sunny smiled, nodded, and brushed past her.
Brooklyn’s sucked her teeth when her father didn’t even have the decency to not stare at Sunny’s ass when she walked away.
“So gross,” she said. “Truly. I wish I didn’t know. I’m nauseous. All those petit fours are about to go to waste.”
Mark laughed. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m not. I don’t care , necessarily, but I kinda…do.”
He sighed. “She was my first love, Brook.”
“Wait…what?”
Mark froze. “She didn’t tell you?”
“ No . I saw her sneaking out of the casita the other night. I thought y’all were just…” she trailed off. “First love?”
“Look, I don’t have time to get into it.”
“I’m gonna need you to make time, Daddy. This is—“
“Bride! I need the bride!” Daisy yelled as she rushed toward them. “The grandparents are ready to speak.”
She blew out a breath. “We’re not done.”
Mark reared back, his face balling up as she walked away. It felt like a role-reversal, and he wasn’t comfortable with that. He didn’t have to answer to her—and yet, he felt like he owed her an explanation.
He returned to his seat just as Orion’s father stood up to say his piece. Unfortunately, the man’s toast was interrupted by Samara, who said, “Oh my God!” a lot louder than she intended to.
“Sorry,” she whispered as she passed her phone to Jules, who passed it to Brooklyn. A subtle ripple effect went around the room as the younger guests’ faces began to glow from the light of their phone screens. They were all transfixed by something.
Mark frowned at the rudeness. He’d taught Brooklyn better than that. But he realized Sterling’s eyes were glued to his phone, too. Drew. Vince.
Something was wrong.
“You saw this?” someone whispered from behind Mark.
Micah caught his brother’s eye, his face twisted in confusion.
“…So I wanna wish my grandson and his bride a lifetime of happiness. Cheers!”
The few people still paying attention lifted their glasses. Everyone else’s eyes were on Mark.
He leaned forward. “Brooklyn, what the hell is going on?”
Her wide eyes lifted to meet his. “You need to see this.”
“Right now? You’re being inconsiderate.”
Samara stood, inclining her head to tell Mark to follow her.
Exasperated, he stalked after her, ready to give her a scolding. He’d known her for years; she was like a daughter, and she’d handled some minor PR stuff for the practice.
“What the hell is happening?” he said. “Yall are being—“
“Dr. Bennett, this is serious.”
She shoved her phone in his face.
It looked like Instagram. A pretty black woman wearing a purple bonnet and smoking a black and mild lay sideways on a velvet chaise lounge. The caption for the video read: Juno is live: My BBL almost killed me. Time to tell the truth.
“Who the hell is this?” he demanded. She looked familiar.
“Juno. She’s the number one female rapper in the country right now. Listen.”
Samara pressed play.
“I guess it’s time for this, y’all. I’m a Memphis bitch til I die, so I hate to do this to some hometown boys, but it is what the fuck it is.”
She took a drag and blew smoke into the camera.
“I almost died getting my ass done, y’all. And it wasn’t even no backdoor shit. This junt was a reputable establishment, like legit with licenses and shit. I trusted this nigga, Sterling Harris. Dr. Sterling Harris. I trusted this nigga because his shit got a website, he all up in that muhfuckin’ picture smilin’ and shit. Got the white coat on, dripped out in that doctor shit. But see, when you do some shit, you gotta make sure they supposed to be doin’ that shit. That Harris nigga don’t even do BBLs like that.”
She paused to take another puff.
“This muhfucka did my ass, pushed me out the fuckin’ door the next day, didn’t check on me, and my ass got a fuckin’ blood clot. Not my ass, but you know what I’m sayin’. A clot in my leg. If my mama hadn’t pulled up at that exact right moment, a bitch woulda been dead. For real.
“So look, do not, I repeat, do not go to Greater Memphis Plastic Surgery Team. Flodgin’ ass Dr. Sterling Harris. The office is beautiful, the work is pretty good, but they don’t give a fuck about you afterwards. And that’s real.
“So, now y’all know. A bitch was down for a whole ass week. I’m talmbout a fuckin’ coma, y’all. But like they say,” she said, blowing out a smoke ring , “you can’t keep a good bitch down. I’m still here, muhfuckas. Ain’t goin’ nowhere. Aight, I’m finna play y’all my newest shit. Five minutes.”
Mark handed the phone back to Samara, his mouth hanging open, his heart racing in his chest.
“Fuck,” was all he could manage.
She shook her head. “Do you want my help?”
“Of course.” He paced back and forth, his ire growing. “Give me a minute to process this. And don’t let Brook worry about this. Lie if you have to.”
“I got you.”
As soon as Samara was out of sight, he pulled out his phone. It was a Friday evening. Knox, his attorney, was probably still in the office. Even if he wasn’t, Mark needed him on this shit right now.
No answer.
Pain stabbed through his temples as he thought through the implications. His livelihood. His practice. Maybe even his medical license. All at risk now because Sterling went off the rails.
And the worst part was that he could have stopped it.
Mark stomped back to the dining room, where everyone was pretending to listen to Davion’s grandmother. Brooklyn had tears in her eyes, Dav looked pissed, Sunny looked concerned, and Samara was on her phone, her fingers moving a mile a minute.
But his focus was on Sterling.
As quietly and politely as he could, he approached Sterling, leaning down to say, “We need to talk. Right fuckin’ now, nigga.”
The old Kez was bubbling up, and that wasn’t good.