Chapter 36
Antonio
“Thank you for waiting.” Kenya slides a nail across my back and sits on the open barstool next to me.
“And miss dinner at the Seasons?” I point to my glass. “You’re paying, right?”
She swats me with her pocketbook, which is the weight of a brick, and tosses her hair. “You wish! Do you ever dine with a woman at an actual table?”
I stroke my beard. “Does McDonald’s count?”
“Stop!” Kenya’s laughter floats down the bar. It’s not packed, but a few heads turn. “Still noncommittal. One of these days, I’m getting you to change your ways.” The split in her dress spreads over one leg as she crosses them.
Eyes up.
“Many have tried.”
Commitment isn’t an issue. I committed my ass to staying in the hotel lobby when Kenya invited me to her room after our interview. There’s no guarantee we’d mess around, but I wasn’t leaving anything to chance.
No tables is a preference. I’m not allergic to them—I have one at home—but with a dinner table comes assumptions.
Food and drinks tend to be a promissory note for more.
Bars are less messy, minus the communal peanuts with medieval diseases.
Complimentary bread on a high-end tablecloth can get taken out of context fast.
Miriam got complimentary bread the other day.
Does she like him that much, to push around another salad on her plate?
I grab my phone off the bar and check my messages. Nothing.
Did you fall asleep on the sofa bed again? Don’t forget to blow out the candles. That’s a fire hazard.
I should call to double-check she’s safe.
Straight to voicemail.
“What are you having?” Kenya motions to the tumbler in front of me.
“Between the sheets,” I rattle off, my mind on whether or not to have the fire department do one of those wellness checks.
“Tempting.”
“Hmm.” What if she’s in her bedroom, knocked out in a bonnet and no bra? The fire department doesn’t kick down doors in nonemergencies, does it?
“Everything okay?”
“What? Yeah.” I reach for my glass and smirk at Kenya’s headshake. Guess it’s hers now. “How’s the new gig?” The bartender nods when I gesture for another drink.
“Good. I’m getting more airtime, and I negotiated better accommodations in my contract.” She waves a hand around the smoke-gray room dressed in candles and shelves of aged scotch. The Seattle Great Wheel towers Elliott Bay from the large window across the dining room.
Candles.
Miriam.
“I know they have good toilet paper.”
“What?” Kenya snickers.
“Nothing,” I say absentmindedly. What was the name of her neighbor with the dog? Maybe her number is public.
The bartender sets a new cocktail in front of me. “Are you two ready to order?”
Kenya’s eyes drift to the menu. “I’ll have the squash soup and tuna tartare. What do you want, Antonio? Tonight is on you.”
“Yo!” I laugh. “I’ll take the shrimp and grits, please.” I eye Kenya. “Since I’m paying.”
She raises my old glass. “To the new season.”
“To you running my pockets.” I lift mine.
“I paid five grand for you tonight. At Marcela’s fundraiser.”
Alcohol shoots through my nose. “What?” I cough.
Kenya’s shoulder lifts. “It was for a good cause. I wanted to send a message.”
“Which is?”
“You invest in what you want.”
There’s no trace of laughter in her voice, no mistaking what she means.
Kenya is a knockout who’s surprisingly down to earth.
We always had a good time when we linked up.
No drama or expectations. I’m flattered.
Maybe under different circumstances, I’d consider the possibility of more than sex.
But I’m wrapped up in a woman I haven’t seen in weeks.
Kenya’s fantasy material, but she’s not Miriam.
“I’m considering moving back to Buffalo,” she says.
“Why now?”
The charms in her bracelet clink when she twists her glass on the counter. “I’m interested in covering the Steel permanently. Some of my best memories are in Buffalo. It makes sense.”
“Here you go.” The bartender sets down our plates, cutting through the silence.
“No one died,” Kenya laughs. “We have a good time together. Maybe we can see where it goes now that we’ll see each other more.”
I sigh. “Don’t move for anyone but yourself.”
“Are you still single?”
In one ear and out the other. “Technically, yes. I’m not trying to be mean, but I would’ve pursued something with you years ago if I felt it. Don’t let me be a factor in your decision.”
Kenya blinks at her plate. She’s got an iron grip on her fork, like she might use it to draw blood. “Let me worry about me,” she says through a whisper.
“I’ll pay back what you spent at Marcela’s fundraiser.”
Marcela!
I knock over my fork and knife to get to my phone.
“Are you okay?”
“Yup. Shit.” My phone scolds me for entering the wrong password twice. “Just checking something—aha!”
If Miriam isn’t answering her phone, maybe she’s with her sister. That would rule out the potential of a house fire.
My fingers run a mile a minute to pull up Marcela’s social media. What pops up on her personal page has me swearing under my breath.
The video is dark, but strobe lights capture Miriam in the club clear as day, She’s in a black dress that hugs her ass and heels that require a special license to operate. She fidgets with her hands and gets a slap on the ass from her sister when she tries to sit down.
Two other women surround her, making a half circle. Cheers ensue, and the smooth hips I’ve kissed flare to life with Mariah Carey’s “It’s Like That.” I grin at Miriam’s dimples tipped to the ceiling, along with her hands threading through the air.
Her joy is contagious, a high that requires a daily hit and protection at all costs.
“Get it, sis!” Marcela screams from the other side of the camera. “You might bag another engineer.”
I beg your fucking pardon.
“Are you okay?” Kenya’s brows knit. “You have a vein the size of a hose poking out your forehead.”
My throat tightens, and my lungs constrict. “I’m fine,” I growl.
There’s no way Miriam found love in the two weeks we haven’t seen each other. She’s not dating. That’s need-to-know information for your best friend, along with hand signals when you’re over a party or what music to play at your funeral.
She wouldn’t. Not with Dickhead or anyone else.
Hopefully she’s still on the market.
I’ll be damned. Bread was right.
“Ready to go?” I pull out my wallet.
“You barely ate.” Kenya frowns at my plate.
“Right.”
My phone is burning through my pocket, trying to keep Miriam out of sight. But she’s still on my mind.
“Am I your one phone call?”
“No.”
The line goes dead.
“No he didn’t,” I whisper-shout. Kendrick is knocked out in his bed. Shins is in mine, hugging his pillow.
I brought my sad ass back here after dinner, which ended in a hug and Kenya’s disappointment. I’m not the kind of man to fuck while thinking about someone else. It’s not fair to the woman I’m with, and it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t have the one I want.
I call again.
“You better be dying,” Julian yawns.
“So much for our friendship. I doubt Matt Damon talks to Ben Affleck this way,” I protest.
“He would if he called past midnight.”
“Julie, who is that?”
“Antonio being an idiot,” he tells Ella.
“Hey!” My tone hardens.
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because I’m trying to be respectful,” I say. “Kendrick and Shins are asleep.”
“Yet you called my phone to wake me up.”
“I’m in a bad place and need advice.”
“Put it on speaker,” Ella says.
There’s a muffled conversation. Julian lets out an exaggerated sigh.
“What? It better not be some bullshit, like someone’s handcuffed to your bed again.”
Ella gasps. “That happened?”
“Afraid so,” I admit. “She put herself in a headstand and refused to leave.”
“Oop!” Ella giggles.
“Get to the point, Antonio.”
“Geez, so testy.” I take a deep breath. “When did you know it was the right time to pursue Ella?”
“Aww,” Ella coos. “Is this about Miriam?”
“Yeah.” I grip the back of my neck.
“I believe he asked me the question, while you’re climbing over me to get to the phone,” Julian grumbles.
“Then answer,” she challenges.
“It caught me off guard how quickly I cared about her. Her well-being, and the kids,” Julian confesses.
“I didn’t think I was in a place where I was ready to settle down.
Even in London, she had my heart. It got harder to stay away and deny what I felt.
There was peace in pursuing her. Our timing wasn’t perfect, but it felt right. ”
“Aww,” Ella and I say in unison.
Bro kept his cards close to his chest, but the way he moved said it all. He cut off being outside to be with her.
Ring a bell?
“What’s got you acting like I’m that lady with the couch?” Smack. “Ow! He called me, sweetheart. Obviously something happened,” he says. “No more self-defense classes with Erica. I know you’re giving Levi hell.”
“She went on a date. A second date, with Dickhead,” I mutter. I fill them in on Doe and her almost-boss. She’s never hinted about liking him. Did I miss the clues?
“Something ain’t right with him,” I say. “Dude looks like Ghost from Power.”
“He can’t be trusted. What?” Ella sucks her teeth. “What role has he played where he’s not causing trauma? Being Mary Jane.”
“For Colored Girls.” I shudder.
“I’m not staying on the phone going over that man’s résumé,” Julian snaps. “The point, Antonio.”
“The point is, I don’t know what to do! I like her. Hell, I love her.”
“Aww,” Ella says.
“I just…” I sigh. “This is all new to me. I’ve tried to ignore what I feel, but I can’t stop thinking about her. I told myself we’re better off as friends, but that doesn’t feel right. We’ve been…intimate. Not that, but yeah.”
“Bro.” There’s a smile in Julian’s tone. Smack. “I can’t be happy for my friend now? He’s loved this woman since middle school and is finally admitting it.”
“Have you told her how you feel?”
“No, El.” I blow out a breath. “The last two times we were around each other, we didn’t exactly talk. I don’t know how to get her to see me differently.”
“Show her,” Julian says.
“I do! She’s the only woman I talk to on the phone willingly. I took her shopping for house supplies. I painted. I rented a VIP suite in a Vegas club so she could come out and not get overstimulated. I made friendship bracelets.”
“Now that’s cute,” Ella swoons.
“I don’t know what else to do, and I don’t want to lose her.”
There it is, what I’ve been so afraid to admit out loud. I’m so far out of my element with Miriam, it scares the shit out of me.
“Tell her how you feel, but show her that the non-platonic side of you can be loyal and love her how she needs to be loved. Reassure her that taking your friendship to that level doesn’t come with your track record in the streets. El wasn’t around to see how I used to get down.”
“Thank God!” she huffs.
Julian snickers. “Miriam needs to know it’s safe to love you outside of the boundaries of your friendship. Your actions need to follow your words. That means no sides.”
“Bro, I haven’t been with another woman since she moved up here. The carpal tunnel in my—”
“Too much!” Julian and Ella say.
I drag a hand over my face. “You know what I mean. I’m serious.”
Julian’s tone lightens. “Sounds like it. You’ve been pining for her for almost two decades now.
If you want her, go for it. Just give her the space to process.
You’re on her time now, and you have to respect whatever decision she makes.
Ella tried to go on a date once. I shut that shit down. ” Smack. “Ow!”
“You did no such thing,” Ella snickers. “The date was awful, but Julie ordered me tacos all the way from London to make up for it.”
“I’d do it again, sweetheart.”
Not again.
“I’ll let you two go. Thanks for talking this through with me.”
“We’re always here for you.” Ella squeals, “Julie, stop!”
“I’ll hit you later.” Julian’s voice trails off, but not before he says to Ella, “Don’t roll over. I’m up now.”
The line goes dead.
I sit in the armchair across from my bed and scroll through pictures of me and Miriam. There aren’t many because of the years of long distance, but we’re making up for lost time.
My thumb hovers over the one from three years ago, of us in the emergency room.
I pulled her in for a selfie. My smile is a grimace thanks to the tampon up my broken nose.
Miriam looks off, like she’s frustrated with the smile that’s tempting her lips to curl.
Even with her Set It Off braids and her wig stuck on my watch, she was the most beautiful woman in the room.
If you want her, go for it.
“See you soon, Doe.”