Chapter Four
Four
“Hello, love.” Zhan’s voice came to me from across the Atlantic. It was five a.m.
“Hey, baby,” my voice cracked back. “How’s the weather?” I asked as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes.
“Fabulous for London.” Zhan snickered. “Will you be sleeping with the Merriwether when you get here?”
“What?” I said and sat straight up in the bed. What did he say? How did he know about Merriwether? Oh God, my secret is out. I panicked as I tried to get a lie together in my mind.
“Well, you asked how the weather was and not me.” He laughed.
My heart slowed a bit. Oh, weather , not Merriwether.
I dropped back down to the bed. “How are you, honey?”
“Anxious for you to get your fine black ass back over here.”
“I’m anxious to get there too.”
“What time is your flight?”
“Eight o’clock this evening.”
“Are you all packed?”
“Almost.”
“Well, okay. I’ll send a car to pick you up.”
“Thanks, sweetie.”
“Anything for my man.”
“You are too good for me.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Have a safe flight.”
Click.
Well, that was a wonderful way to start off my morning. After a shower and a strong cup of coffee, I donned a loose pair of water blue linen pants and a matching shirt.
It was a glorious day. The birds were singing, young mothers were pushing baby strollers up and down the sidewalks, there was not a cloud in the sky, and all was well with the world until I stepped out and onto the stoop of my Brooklyn brownstone and looked down to see a woman looking back at me.
“Noah?”
I smiled. “Yes,” I said, trying to figure out where I knew this woman from. She looked vaguely familiar. I didn’t think for a moment that it was any of the women I’d had trysts with; I never ever brought them back to my place.
“So this is where you live,” she said, leaning back on one leg, folding her arms across her chest, and looking me up and down.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?”
She rolled her eyes and did something strange with her lips. “You should know me, nigga—you fucked me a month ago, promised that you’d call, and never did. So now I’m going to have to kill you!”
I let out a high-pitched bitch scream. Who knew my life would end like this?
“Noah, are you okay?”
The woman was up on the stoop now, her eyes swimming with concern. I took a step away from her and looked down at her hands to see if her fingers were curled around a sharp utensil.
“Uh, what?”
“Well, I told you that we met at the Donna Karan show during fashion week last year, and you just went gray.”
I blinked at her.
“Gosh, what kind of impression did I leave on you?” She sounded wounded.
I looked wildly around and then back at her. Surely I was going crazy.
“I’m—I’m sorry. I haven’t been feeling well lately,” I said and wiped at the perspiration on my forehead. “Yes, yes, what’s your name again?”
“Swain Jenkins,” she said and cautiously presented her hand. I took it and shook it; it was a weak handshake, the kind I’ve received from the hoity-toity set, who didn’t want to shake your hand to begin with.
“Yes, yes, Swain. Nice to see you again,” I said, still shaken.
“Same here,” she said, looking at me strangely before she started back down the steps.
Me, I just turned around and rushed back into the house.