Chapter 12
Raya
Whoever cooked these ribs was doing the Lord’s work. I’m not even trying to be polite when I tear into the spicy, tender meat. Sauce is flying everywhere. Grease running down my fingers.
I’m so happy right now.
Every now and then, I’ll catch Ace’s eye. He’s sitting across the room with his idiot friends. God, men are so dumb.
All I had to do was mention a blow job and there they went, one-by-one, falling under my spell like dominoes.
Whatever, though. It worked. My man is smiling again, and I’m chilling with these ribs, trying hard to ignore the annoying ass little boy that keeps running through the room like an overexcited puppy. Whose kid is that? Fucking heathen.
“So then he asked me what my body count was.”
I pause mid-bite, my ears perking up.
Two women beside me lean closer together, lowering their voices conspiratorially. The brown-skinned one with the locs rolls her eyes. “What’d you tell him?”
I turn my nose up, because I have a feeling I know what’s coming. I’m preemptively disgusted, but I set my ribs down and roll a napkin around in my hands as I lean in to listen anyway.
The light-skinned one shrugs, tucking her black bob behind her ear. “I mean, I told him. I don’t have anything to hide. I’m not ashamed.”
“It’s not about shame,” I blurt before I can stop myself. “Sorry. I couldn’t help overhearing.”
They exchange a look that says yes you could, bitch, and I guess I don’t blame them.
“I’m Raya,” I say, putting some brightness into my voice. “I came with Ace.”
“Oh!” The light one perks up. “I’m Tiffany and that’s Katrina. I came with Bron.”
My eyes shift over to the guys. They’re still deep in conversation, which is completely meaningless, I’m sure.
“So Bron asked you that?”
Tiffany nods. “We’ve been talking for a few weeks. I like him.”
“And you told him the truth?”
They laugh. Loudly.
“I mean…yes? I’m always honest when I’m trying to build a relationship.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I warn. “Never tell men the truth. They can’t be trusted with the truth.”
I can tell by the way their faces fall that I’m losing them.
“Look…you can be honest about some things. But that? That ain’t his business. You should be offended that he even dared to ask you that.”
“Men ask that all the time,” Katrina says.
“Then they aren’t scared enough of losing you,” I say. “Especially in the beginning. He needs to be on his fucking toes. He needs to be walking on eggshells trying to keep from fucking things up with you.”
Tiffany leans a little closer. “I’m listening.”
“If it doesn’t work out with Bron, next time, with the next guy, lie,” I say. “Then ask him what’s in his bank account.”
“I like her,” Katrina says with a giggle.
I shrug as an odd feeling washes over me. It’s foreign, the whole feeling liked thing. Girls have never really liked me. They tolerated me, or amused themselves by picking on me, but liking me?
My TikTok followers like me, I suppose, but only because I entertain them. They don’t count. They aren’t real people. But actual humans that are sitting in close proximity to me?
Interesting.
I focus on Tiffany again. “Be strict with Bron.”
She blinks. “Strict how?”
“Don’t let him get away with anything. Don’t let him think he’s the prize. Make him work for everything.” I lean in closer. “Don’t ever give men anything for free. They’ll accept it, because they like easy, but they’ll never respect it. Make them earn everything.”
Tiffany raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you married?”
“Yes,” I say simply. “And my husband loves it.”
Her eyes shift in the direction of our men, while mine go back to my plate. My ribs are getting cold.
It’s quiet on the way home, with only the hum of the engine in our ears. Streetlights blur past like shooting stars.
Ace reaches across the console and grabs my hand. “Thank you. For what you did.”
“What did I do?”
“Making up with my friends.” He raises my hand and brings it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I appreciate you.”
“Anything for you,” I say, and I mean it.
He’s quiet for a moment, then says, “Did you see Jovan’s nephew running around?”
Of course I saw that little bastard. I can still hear his shrill laugh and the pitter patter of his little hooves as he darted underfoot. Highly irritating.
“It got me thinking,” Ace continues. “I’ve been thinking about it, really.”
I turn to look at him, dreading what’s next.
“A baby,” he finishes, his eyes on the road ahead. “We’ve never really talked about it.”
My fingers curl slightly against his.
“I know you have the whole thing with your mom,” he says. “But ever since I saw how you were looking out for that little girl, I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That you’d make a good mother. That you’d be better at it than yours was.”
I almost laugh, then my chest tightens.
“Have you given any thought to it?”
“Of course,” I lie. “But I think I just wanna enjoy my husband for a while before we start talking about a family.”
There’s a long, silent pause.
“How long is a while?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I lie again. Because I absolutely do know. I never wanna have a kid. I’m not pushing out a fucking crotch goblin that will make me fat and tired and irritated. It’s enough keeping myself alive. I don’t need another human to look after.
He sighs, disappointed with that answer.
I almost feel bad, but that’s the thing men don’t understand.
We do all of the fucking work. We take all of the fucking risk.
White women ate with my body, my choice.
Or maybe black women ate with that, and they stole it and vomited it up.
Either way, the statement goes hard. I get to decide, and the answer is a resounding fucking no.
But I say, “One day,” because you have to dangle the carrot. “I promise.”
He nods, and I can tell by his pinched expression that the conversation isn’t over. He just put a mental bookmark on it.
“Speaking of…you done obsessing over that little girl and her family?”
I squeeze his hand. “Yep. We did what needed to be done.”
And I put a mental bookmark on that.
At home, while Ace is in the shower, I hop on live to do a beat.
I’m feeling triumphant this evening, so I do a bold look—burgundy lip, dramatic wing, heavy contour.
The second the ring light clicks on, everything feels familiar and comforting.
My voice slips into its practiced cadence. The chat starts rolling.
“Went to a birthday party today,” I say softly as I dot powder under my eyes. “One of my husband’s friends.”
Swernjpj21 - I still get a charge when you say ‘my husband’
Adef90sw - me tooooo
Loijweor - when do we get to see this alleged husband
I chuckle at that. “Anyway, I met a couple of girls. They were actually nice to me.”
I contour my left side, then my right. “I never wanted to be the kind of silly bitch who says she doesn’t have female friends, but honestly, I don’t. Not because I don’t want them, just…never really had the chance, I guess.”
As I’m lining my lips, the office door bursts open and there’s my alleged husband, shirtless and smelling like soap.
“Oh, my bad. I ain’t know you were recording,” he says as he backs out. “I’m going to bed.”
But it’s too late. He’s already been seen.
kitty66- omg is that your husband
1lemur - aaaaaaaaaace!
K;opkmer - make him say hi to us
ZZ7mq3wer - damn bitch he fine af
Qwerk4 - ok now I understand the crashouts
“Wait,” I say, laughing softly. “It’s okay. You can come in. The chat likes you.”
He approaches slowly, a smile spreading across his face. “What are they saying?”
“Well, somebody earlier called you my alleged husband. I guess they thought I made you up.”
He ducks his head to get into frame, his eyes moving awkwardly as he tries to figure out where to look. “Nah, I’m real.” He smiles sheepishly. “Sorry I’m half-naked. Just got out the shower.”
“I’m sure they don’t mind,” I say, and sure enough, the chat explodes with compliments.
He takes my hand, pulls me to my feet, then takes my seat in front of the ring light. I frown down at him, but relax when he pulls me onto his lap.
He kisses my cheek, and it’s extremely tender. I can’t help but lean into his touch, closing my eyes when his strong arms encircle my waist.
“Can I make a confession to your followers real quick?”
I open my eyes and frown at him again. “As long as you don’t embarrass me.”
“Why would I ever embarrass you?” he says with a grin. “Nah. I was just gonna say, well, for one, I appreciate the way y’all support my wife. I don’t know shit about makeup. Or TikTok. But I can see why y’all wanna watch her.” He brings his eyes to mine. “Obviously.”
I can’t help but smile.
“Nah, but I was gonna say…I watch sometimes, too. One time, before we got married, we weren’t really vibing like that.
She was mad at me or something. Point being…
I missed her. And I went on her page just so I could see her face.
And then I just started doing it sometimes when I’m at work or when she’s at school.
Like I said, I don’t know shit about makeup, but I know how it feels when the woman you love is out of your reach and you just have to get a look at her. Just to remind yourself she’s yours.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and let my head rest against his.
“This woman is the best thing that ever happened to me,” he says. “That’s all. Just had to get that out.”
The chat goes wild.
But as for me? It’s the opposite. I feel calm. I feel warm. I feel relaxed. I feel like I wanna give this man everything, because he gives me what I’ve always craved but could never seem to find.
He really loves me.
And he sits with me, looking on proudly as I finish my look.
“What do you think?” I ask him, even though I don’t care. Not in a bad way. I care what my man thinks in general, but not about makeup. I’m simply playing along.
“I think…” he trails off, staring into my eyes. “I think you look just as beautiful right now as you do when you wake up in the morning.”
See what I mean?
That’s a fucking lie, but it’s okay. It’s a lie I like.
So after I end the live, I exit out of TikTok and go to my knees in front of Ace. Never in a million years would I have ever thought I'd be an eater, but that's what this man does to me.
"Are you still on live?" He asks through gritted teeth.
"Of course not. But I kinda wanna record this. Can I?"
His grinch-grin makes an appearance. "Long as you don't send it to anybody."
I shoot him a look.
Then, I press record, and I film myself sucking my husband's dick. I put on quite a show tonight, but he deserves.
After, he helps me put my stuff away and breaks down my ring light.
He’s a good man, Savannah.
Watching him, I feel a surge of something…pride maybe. I’m capable of loving someone else. Truly, genuinely loving them. I’ve doubted that for so long, sometimes believing it, sometimes talking myself out of it. But now I know it for fact.
And when you love someone, you do what you can to make them happy, even when it’s uncomfortable.