11. Everly
( The present )
Why was he doing this? I had no idea what the hell was on Real's mind. Maybe he really was tripping about seeing me at Rarity’s with Marlon, but hell, I didn’t know he owned the place, and I didn’t know Kelsey and Taleah had been plotting. I didn’t owe Real too many explanations, anyway. I had to remind myself of that—he was not my man. My focus needed to be on keeping my own mind straight, though. If he wanted to play games, he had the right one, because I was an expert. I straightened my shoulders and ran a hand over my hair as he pulled into the parking lot of a small, bright blue building. A little sign announced it as "Rachel's Breakfast and Bakery." I hadn't heard of it, but it looked like a cute little place.
Reaching to open my door, I stopped when he growled, "I wish the fuck you would."
I smirked at him. "A gentleman, huh?"
I hadn't really done the whole traditional dating thing in the last five years, so I had forgotten how some men insisted on this little ritual. He’d opened the door at my house, and I guess he was going to do it again. I sat there patiently as he rounded the car and opened the door. He took my hand to help me out, then didn't let go of it. Now, that was a little too much. I pulled on my hand, but his only response was to tighten his grip. He wasn't hurting me, but he was strong as hell.
"Real—"
I rolled my eyes at the look he gave me but let him hold my hand. He ushered me into the restaurant, and I immediately fell in love. Huge windows let in plenty of sunlight and highlighted the beautiful maple wood booths, tables, and gleaming, polished floors. It was a homey, happy-looking place and its sweet appearance had me curious about the food. From the way it was packed, whatever they were serving must be good.
The hostess looked at us and smiled, her beautiful face brightening.
"Table for two, Mr. Hamilton?" she asked.
Her tone was teasing, her cocoa eyes warm. Oh... so, she knew him. That sparked all kinds of questions in my head that I tried to shut down with a simple, it's not your business, Ev , but that wasn't working. I managed to keep them to myself, though. We were quickly seated in one of the booths, leather-bound menus pressed into our hands.
"You have recommendations?" I queried.
"It's all good, love. You can't go wrong," he said, so unhelpful.
"Well, what do the girls you usually bring here get, Mr. Hamilton ?"
I was appalled the moment I said that shit, could feel my skin warming with an embarrassed blush. What the fuck, Everly ? It wasn't my business whom he brought here, and I didn't care! So, why the question? And why his smug little knowing smile?
"I'on know cuz?—"
Whatever he'd been about to say was interrupted by the arrival of our server. My mouth almost fell open. She looked like she may have been in her forties, and she was flawless , even in the blue uniform dress and white apron. Her dark hair, with random streaks of gray, was in a tight bun on top of her head, putting her lovely face on display. Her big, long-lashed eyes studied us before a small smile curved her red-lipsticked pout.
"Good morning, Montréal. You want your usual?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, handing her the menu.
"And what about you, gorgeous?" she asked me, her smile widening.
I smiled back, sure this woman was tired of me staring at her, but she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen, and I grew up with some baddies.
"This is Evanie," Real introduced. "Ev, this is?—"
"Rachel," she supplied.
The owner , I realized. Of course, he'd be waited on by the owner.
"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Rachel. Umm... I haven't really had a chance to look. I was just asking Real?—”
"Let her pick something for you. Trust her," he interrupted suddenly.
I glanced at him and nodded. Ms. Rachel looked at me for a minute, tapping her chin.
"Okay, got it," she finally said. "I'll bring you some water and a flight of some of our more exotic juices. Let me know if you need anything else."
I nodded again as I handed her the menu. She disappeared as quickly as she'd arrived. Embarrassed as I remembered the question I'd asked him, I let my gaze sweep around the cozy little spot. I could feel Real's eyes on me, and I did my best to ignore that. Finally, I couldn't take the silence any longer.
"Sooo..." I cleared my throat. "How did you find this place?"
He shrugged. "I know people."
"Like the hostess?"
What the fuck was wrong with me? I didn't care about these things! Once again, Montréal Hamilton was not my man! Still, when he chuckled and said, "I know her real well," I felt an unfamiliar sinking feeling in my chest. But always the actress, I graced him with my trademark half smile and a soft, "Mmm."
I'd studied for this role as hard as any chick trying to make a come-up in Hollywood. I knew better than asking questions like that—men liked mistresses who asked about and listened to them. They wanted undivided, adoring attention and I was good at faking that and a lot of other shit, too. Not that I ever had to fake with Real. Ugh!
"Why did you leave the bed last night?" he asked suddenly.
Oh, God! Where was that water? Stay cool, Everly. I'd just give him a half-ass answer and do my specialty—change the subject.
"I need my own space when I sleep. I like to move and stay cool. Now, what do you have planned for?—"
He shook his head, stopping me.
"You slept good as fuck in my arms, shorty. Don't play on my?—"
He paused as another middle-aged woman in uniform appeared. She was obviously related to Ms. Rachel; her pretty face had some of the same features.
"Word be getting around, ain't it?" Real asked, grinning.
She ignored him at first, serving our waters and flights of multi-colored juices before tucking the tray under her arm.
"You doing anything with yourself besides talking noise? Surprised a woman as beautiful and classy as this putting up with yo' nonsense," she fussed at Real.
"I ain't gone keep coming here giving y'all my hard-earned money and getting mistreated!" he complained even as his smile grew bigger.
She sucked her teeth at him, then turned toward me. Her face instantly smoothed, and she smiled.
"My name is Ramona and I'll be helping take care of you. You want a mimosa?"
"You ain't offer me a mimosa," Real objected.
"This lady needs a little alcohol to put up with you. Matter of fact, baby, I got some tequila and shot glasses if you--"
Real scoffed, shaking his head at the sassy woman.
"It ain't even noon, Mona!"
"It is somewhere. Now, stop interrupting me. I also got some nice whiskey. Unfortunately, I don't have?—"
"A license to sell liquor?" he muttered.
"I don't need a license to do the Lord's work, Montréal Hamilton."
I couldn't hold my laughter in anymore. They kept squabbling and I laughed until tears filled my eyes. Real mugged me.
"Her old ass ain't that funny."
But he smiled as he grumbled.
"Boy, I almost called you a hater, but I know that ain't in your blood," Ramona said, looking at him affectionately before she focused on me again.
"My sister told me your name was Evanie. That's pretty. Kinda unique. Now, what you do, Ms. Evanie?"
I felt guilty about the name, but I had my reasons.
"I'm a labor and delivery nurse," I said.
"Oh! I'm a nurse, too! Retired, but I worked a long time with neurology patients."
"Bet Ev's bedside manner way better than yours," Real said, winking at me.
"Real!" I could feel my face flaming.
Ms. Ramona waved him off. "He act like he ain't got no home training, but I know his mama. Anyway, let me know if you want a real drink. I'ma go back here and check on y'all's food."
I was still smiling as she walked off after mushing Real's shoulder.
"Seems like she's cool as hell," I said with one last laugh.
"She—well, both of 'em—real cool people," he agreed.
I was tense as I waited for him to bring up our previous conversation, but I guess he decided to give me a break. We talked about his coming work week until Ms. Rachel and Ms. Ramona returned with our plates. Real had a steak, eggs, and breakfast potatoes. It looked like it came straight off the pages of Bon Appetit . My own food looked good as hell, too.
"I heard the South in your voice. I had to get you my biscuits and gravy," Ms. Rachel explained.
She'd also given me eggs, grits, and sausage. They slid an array of jellies and syrups on the table before retreating to the kitchen. I didn't think it was possible, but the food tasted even better than it looked.
"Oh, my God," I breathed after my first bite.
I was about halfway done when Real spoke again.
"I'm glad you like it. All these months and this is only like the second time I've seen you eat a whole meal."
My eyes tangled with his and I tried to shrug nonchalantly.
"More than twice, Montréal. Plus, you usually come over after I've eaten," I said.
His eyes pierced mine.
"Is that what it is?" he asked.
I felt like he could see right through me, like he knew what I'd discovered. Some people didn't like to see women like me eat. Others were obsessed with it. Either way, I didn't like their gazes or commentary.
"What else could it be?" I murmured.
"So, if I said I'd come earlier sometimes so we could eat together..."
He waited. I lifted my napkin and dabbed at my lips, hoping he would get the hint. He said nothing. I sighed.
"Real, we don't?—"
"Finish your food, shorty," he cut me off, his irritation evident.
The booth was suddenly quiet. I picked up my fork, but my appetite was basically gone. Ms. Rachel and Ms. Ramona came back as we completed our meal, wanting my opinion.
“Delicious,” I told them. “I’ll definitely be back.”
They smiled at each other, then at me, before Ms. Rachel murmured, “Oh, I’m sure.”
I wondered about that but didn’t comment. Instead, I followed Real’s lead and slid out of the booth. He surprised me by grabbing my hand again, but I didn’t comment on that, either. Ms. Ramona lifted a bag with some carryout plates and handed it to him.
“Tell his ol’ grouchy ass his tab getting high, too,” she fussed.
Real grinned. “You know how he willing to pay you,” he said.
She sucked her teeth. “I ain’t got time for them worms.”
“Mona, you so?—”
His response was interrupted when a bright voice called out, “Sorry I’m late!”
I watched as a young, Ms. Rachel clone walked toward us, followed by the hostess. Wherever these women got their genes, I needed to visit. The new arrival dropped kisses on the other women’s cheeks.
“Kinny, you always late,” Real said.
“Don’t do me like that, brother,” she mumbled as she threw her arms around him.
Brother? Real’s eyes were on my face as I struggled to keep it composed. No, this jackass didn’t!
“You ain’t gone introduce us?” “Kinny” asked, her brown eyes surveying me curiously. “Rude ass.”
“I ain’t rude. She met the important ones,” he shot back, before giving in. “Ev, you met my mama, Rachel, and my crazy ass aunt, Ramona. These are my nosy sisters, Kinshasa and Chennai.”
The sisters greeted me warmly, but the curiosity in their eyes was clear. They wanted to know whom their big brother was hanging out with. I didn’t like being caught out like this, but poise was everything.
“It’s cool how you’re all named after cities,” I said the first thing that came to mind, unable to believe he really had me in here meeting his mama. “Creative.”
“All the places I wanted to go when I was young and poor: Cairo, Montréal, Benghazi, Kinshasa, and Chennai. There were more but no more babies,” Ms. Rachel laughed.
“And now you could spend more time in those places if you’d quit micromanaging the restaurants,” Real told her, bumping her with his elbow.
She scoffed. “They’re my new babies. I’ll travel for pleasure more later.”
Handing me a box, she smiled again. “It was so good to meet you, beautiful. I couldn't let you leave without some of my baked goods.”
I thanked her again, hoping my attitude wasn't in my voice. I was so ready to get outside and curse Real’s ass out, something out of character for the sponsored version of me. We finished our goodbyes and made our way out the door. As soon as we were a few feet into the parking lot, I yanked my hand out of his.
“Real, what the hell?” I hissed.
He raised an eyebrow and his lips pulled in tight before he warned, “Watch your tone, shorty. The fuck you tripping about?”
My eyes widened incredulously. “What am I tripping about? You just let me meet most of your immediate family with no warning or anything!”
Instead of responding, he just kept walking until he made it to his car. He opened the door for me and stood there expectantly. I stared at him, mad as fuck, but I could tell he wasn't going to continue this argument here. I slid inside, and he closed my door before walking around. Starting the car, he pulled away from his mother's restaurant. A couple of miles later, he finally spoke.
“You got this list of all the stuff we don't do and what it's not like between us, remember? You not my girl, so why does it matter if you met my family? I was just trying to eat good, maybe bring my ol’ girl some new business.”
Ohhh! So, he was gon’ turn my words on me? He shrugged like it was nothing even as his words stabbed my chest. Wordlessly, I smiled, snapping back to myself. He just didn’t know; he’d given me the ammunition I needed. We rode in silence as I clutched the box his mama gave me. I knew he had food to drop off, but after that, I was going home. Eventually, he pulled in front of a nice little home in one of the northside subdivisions. I was surprised when he came to open my door.
“You’re doing a drop-off. I can—” I started to protest.
“Get out,” he demanded.
His tone told me not to argue. I got out, but I crossed my arms over my chest, in case he tried to grab my hand. Just petty, and his chuckle told me he knew it. We walked through a high fence that extended from the side of the house into a big backyard. An older man sat on the deck at a patio table, reading an actual newspaper. He looked up as we approached and lowered the paper before letting out a low whistle.
“Ooh-wee, you done went and got one of them big, fine ones, huh? Lawd Hammercy, please tell me you bringing her to me,” he gawked.
I shook my head as Real grilled him.
“Oscar, shut up before I push yo’ shit back. Only thing I got for you is breakfast,” he said, stepping up on the deck and setting the bag in front of Oscar.
“Move yo’ disrespectful ass out the way and let me look at this masterpiece.”
Oscar peeked around Real, looking over the top of his glasses at me. He winked, and I couldn’t help smiling at his antics.
“Good morning! I’m Ev. It’s nice to meet you,” I greeted.
“And she from the Souf? That voice like butter. Ain’t nothing like a thick, country gal. Bet yo’ ass be full and warm this winter. Good God Almighty!” Oscar exclaimed, grabbing his chest.
Real reached behind him and Oscar dropped his paper and held up both hands. I knew Real always carried, although I didn’t know why a man who primarily dealt in commercial and high end residential real estate had to.
“Okay, Okay! Yo’ big ass always tryna pull out that gun. Gon’ bring a piece of God’s majesty over here then get mad when a man marvels,” he mumbled.
“Marvel quietly,” Real ordered. “You take your blood pressure medicine?”
“Mona told you to ask? Tell my baby I'm okay. She too pretty to be over there worried.”
Real scoffed. “Mona don't want yo’ old ass. She's scared you gon’ give her worms, have her stomach hurting and shit.”
“I’m gon’ deffly have her stomach hurtin’ but it ain’t gon’ be from no?—”
“Ay, Oscar, for real. I will decorate that patio door with yo’ brain.”
That threat didn’t stop Oscar’s grin or my giggle. He and Real talked shit for a couple more minutes before we left. I eyed Real as we left the neighborhood.
“You know, you really were right,” I admitted.
He side-eyed me. “About what?”
I could hear the suspicion in his tone, but that didn’t stop my little spiel.
“My reaction to meeting your family. It shouldn’t have mattered because we not on the type of shit where I gotta be worried about impressing them or if they like me. Once this runs its course, I’ll probably never see them again. I’ll be honest. Your spending the night and taking me to breakfast probably got me temporarily off track. This is why we have to keep certain lines firmly drawn. I shouldn’t be running errands with you. I think you should take me home.”
Opening my bag, I pulled out my favorite Chanel gloss—the Melted Honey made my lips pop. I was proud of myself and my argument. I won. His ass can’t even respond , I thought smugly, holding back a smile as I swiped the applicator over my lips. Now, shit could get back to normal.