Chapter Eight #3
She waves me off with a charming smile. “Oh, please. Deb or Debbie is just fine, baby.” She exchanges pleasantries with Jalen and then we head toward baggage claim.
I trail behind the group, watching the interactions between Janelle and her parents.
Her mom constantly frets over her, asking how she’s holding up and wanting details on how the trip’s been so far.
She doesn’t outright ask if things are awkward with her and Arnold but her continuous looks over her shoulder at Arnold make it obvious.
Her dad seems to notice the hunch in Janelle’s shoulders and pulls her under his arm, testing a bunch of new dad jokes on her, which gets her laughing.
“I don’t know about y’all but I’m starving, and I know y’all wouldn’t wanna see an old man wither away so let’s get a move on.”
“Charles, you act like you didn’t eat a full meal right before we got on the plane and about four bags of pretzels on the plane.”
“I don’t know nothing ’bout that. What I know is I need some food and I need it now.” He pats his stomach for dramatic effect.
“Well, that’s perfect. Arnold and I wanted to take you to lunch before heading to the hotel, anyway.”
Charles stops in his tracks. “Just you and Arnold? You’re not coming, Nugget?” he asks Janelle.
Amerie practically jumps in her dad’s arms, blocking his view of Janelle. “Well, Daddy, it’s just that Arnold and I wanted to treat you and Mommy to a nice lunch before the wedding festivities kick off.”
“Now, Bug, you can still do that with your sister in tow. How you gonna invite us to lunch and not invite your sister? And Rome and Jalen. Y’all must be hungry, too.” The respect I have for Charles Cross instantly goes up a few notches.
“Daddy, don’t worry about it. I’ve got stuff to do anyway so I can’t come.” It kills me to watch her bow down to Amerie’s every whim. If anyone else had pulled half the shit Amerie has, Janelle would’ve destroyed them, so this power Amerie seems to hold over her is unnerving.
“Charles, don’t make a big deal out of it. Janelle doesn’t need this on her plate,” Deb admonishes.
“For fuck’s sake,” Janelle mumbles under her breath.
We hurriedly say goodbye and get the hell out of there. When we get to the car Janelle reaches for the backseat handle.
“Janelle, what the hell are you doing?”
“Getting in the car,” she quips, confusion framing her features.
“I see that. Why are you getting in the back?”
She rolls her eyes. “Because your brother is here now so there’s no reason for me to be up front.”
I place my hand on top of the one she has resting on the door handle and lower my voice so only she can hear me. “Unless I’m laying you down and driving you to the brink of insanity with my dick you should never see the backseat of my car. Get your ass to the front.”
She shivers under my touch, crossing one ankle in front of the other. “Why are you like this?”
“Ask Rochelle Martin.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, your mama ain’t here so…” She waves her free hand as if that will make me let her go.
I press my body closer into hers. She gasps when she feels my length against her side. “You want me to call her? Put your pretty ass on FaceTime so she can tell you the kind of man she raised?”
“You are not ’ bout to call your mama on me.”
“You keep thinking I’m not ’ bout that action, J. I’ve proved you wrong before and I’ma keep doing so.”
She licks her bottom lip but straightens when I blatantly let my eyes follow the action. “Damn. Yep, you win this round.”
“Let’s not talk about rounds, J. One week was plenty, ain’t that what you said?”
“Aaaand with that.” She pushes against my chest and I let her go, following her to the passenger side so I can open her door for her.
I hear Jalen’s low rumble of laughter as he lets himself into the backseat.
An hour into our drive back, Janelle and Jalen have been going back and forth with questions to get to know each other better. I can’t lie and say it doesn’t make my heart happy to see my brother and my…and Janelle getting along so well.
“So, is Kam ready for a week without you?”
“He’s with our parents so he’s not even gonna notice I’m gone. Our mom will probably buy him ten video games and our dad will probably let him stay up all hours of the night to watch scary movies.”
“And Mom’s gonna yell at him to send Kam to bed but she’s always the first one to fall asleep; she ain’t gonna do shit about it,” I add in.
“Exactly that.”
“He’s got the grandparents working against each other; he’s a genius. He’s into scary movies?”
“He loves ’ em. He probably shouldn’t be watching them since he’s only eleven, but my dad got him started early.”
“See, now that we can talk about. I leave the horror games to Evie but horror movies? Sign me up.”
“Oh yeah? What’s your favorite?”
“ Nightmare on Elm Street first. Halloween sits at a close second.”
“Kam would approve. Michael Myers is his guy.”
“I knew I liked him.”
We get back to the hotel and Janelle tells us she’s going to go rest while Amerie is gone but promises to see us at the tequila tasting later tonight.
“So that’s my future sister-in-law, huh? I like her,” Jalen spews the moment she’s out of sight.
“The fuck are you talking about?”
“Shorty got you wide open, my guy. You can’t deny that.”
He doesn’t even know about the past week I’ve spent with her, but he has me pegged. It’s way too early to claim her as my wife, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that I want more with Janelle, and I’m willing to do what it takes to make her see that, too.
Later that night, Arnold’s parents and a few other guests have arrived and Amerie and Arnold have invited everyone to a tequila tasting as a welcome.
They booked a bus to take us to and from the restaurant where the tasting is being held so that everyone can let loose.
It takes everything in me not to pull Janelle into my arms when she meets us in the lobby dressed in a gold satin ruched dress that hugs her curves and strappy heels that wrap around her calves.
I’d rather be tasting her tonight than any brand of tequila.
My mind keeps floating, imagining what it would be like to be with her out loud.
To be able to touch her unabashedly because everyone knows we belong to each other.
I’m going through withdrawals. Desperate to feel her body wrapped around me, the sound of her pleasure playing on a loop in my ear.
When we get to the restaurant, we’re escorted to a large private room decorated in all whites, greens, and golds.
A table in the back is adorned with a feast consisting of all different kinds of tacos, ceviche, nachos, and grilled vegetables.
A woman with tan skin and dark hair stands behind a table surrounded by flight paddles, grinning wide.
“Welcome, everyone. Come on in. I’m Maria and I’ll be your tequila master tonight. Please grab a bite and enjoy. We’ll get started shortly.”
Once everyone has had a few minutes to eat and chat, she jumps right into the tasting, introducing one tequila or mezcal after another and describing the flavors, aromas, and physical traits of each one.
She walks us through the proper way to observe and study tequila before tasting it, giving nuance to the entire experience.
Dani is enthralled by Maria’s presentation skills, most likely plotting how she can steal her away to work for her at Promesa.
Janelle seems to thoroughly enjoy the tasting experience, taking the time to note the flavors she’s able to pick up on and ask questions about what she missed before indulging.
Everything she does, she does with fervor.
She dives into it completely and dedicates her all to it.
If only I could get her to do that with us.
After the official tasting is over, everyone is left to enjoy the drinks and food for a while as the bus won’t be back to get us for another hour.
Janelle and I have avoided each other tonight, keeping to our respective bubbles, but when we bump into each other in the center of the room, I happily burst it.
“Did you learn anything new tonight?” she asks.
“I’ve learned a lot about a lot of things.”
She chuckles. “What does that even mean?”
“Nothing. Just that I’m watching and learning.”
She looks me up and down, assessing me carefully. “Of that I have no doubt, Rome.”
“Nelly, oh my gosh!” A drunken Amerie stumbles over to where Janelle and I stand, a young-looking Black man standing behind her.
“Are you okay, Ri?”
“Me? I’m great.” She lowers her voice to a mock whisper. “I have someone I want you to meet.” She flops her hands in the air behind her, inspiring the mystery guy to step out from behind her.
“Nelly, this is Troy. Troy, this is my sister, Nelly. Or Janelle. Troy is Arnold’s protégé. He’s gonna be a great agent one day.”
She winks at Janelle, who’s standing there looking like a deer in headlights. “Yeah, it’s nice to meet you, Troy.”
“Likewise.” He takes her hand in his and kisses it. I’m not sure if the gagging sound I hear is from her or me.
“Troy doesn’t have a date for the ceremony.”
“Okay…” Janelle drags out the word.
“And neither do you.”
“Well, I’m in the ceremony so I’m not sure why I need a date.”
“For after, silly.” Her words begin to slur a little harder.
“No one in the wedding party has dates. Not uncommon for a destination wedding, sis.”
She puts her fingers over her mouth, signaling Janelle to lower her voice.
“I know. I know. I know. But I just thought you two might hit it off. Maybe you should go somewhere private and talk,” she suggests.
She gestures toward the exit but the movement throws her off balance, so I reach my hand up to steady her.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Janelle starts.
“Oh my gosh, great idea, Nelly. Okay, I’m gonna go mingle since it is my wedding and all. Have fun, you two!” she sings as she scurries away, ignoring all the protests flying out of Janelle’s mouth.
This guy looks no older than twenty-three and that’s being generous. It’s cute that Amerie thinks he’d be a good date for Janelle at the wedding, but it’s not happening. Simple as that.
“I’m so sorry about that. She means well,” Janelle apologizes to Troy. I notice him lick his lips as he takes Janelle in.
“Hey, I mean, she might be on to something. I’m not opposed to having a date for the wedding.” He looks at me as if just remembering I’m standing here. “Do you want to grab another drink?”
Janelle looks to me, eyes wide. Pain flashes across her face and she slides her hands down her sides. “Uh, sure. Let’s just step over here.” She lays her hand on the middle of his back and guides him to an empty cocktail table.
When she turns back to me, she mouths the words “ I ’ m sorry, ” driving the knife in a little deeper.