24. Real
For some reason, this girl was reluctant to spend my money in this damn shop, knowing she loved all this old shit. She actually squealed high-pitched as hell when she found an immaculate, autographed copy of some book called Adam and Eva .
“It’s by Sandra Kitt!” she explained excitedly.
I raised an eyebrow. “Umm… okay.”
She made an exaggerated eye roll. “Real! It’s like the first romance book with Black characters published by a serial line.”
“Oh, so you like romance in books, just not in real l?—”
“When did you get so petty?” she snapped, honey eyes blazing up at me.
After that, I didn’t have to encourage her to spend anymore. Rare recordings from Otis Redding and Nina Simone had Oscar’s grin as wide as his face when we checked out. He felt really smug, given the Harlem Renaissance-era literature he’d taken her into a special room to see. He didn’t sell those, but he loved her enthusiasm, especially when she squeezed him in a delighted hug.
“You hungry?” I asked her when we were once again strapped into our seats.
It didn't matter; we were definitely going to this little café I had spent my precious time finding and researching.
“Mm-hmm,” she said, sounding distracted. I side-eyed her.
“What’s wrong with you?”
For a moment, she glanced down at her lap, a sigh floating from between her plush lips. Suddenly, she looked up and her face wore the bland smile she used as a mask.
“Didn’t realize how hungry I was, I guess. I hope you picked somewhere good!”
She was lying and I hated that shit. I wanted her open with me. I wanted to know what was going on in that busy, complicated mind. I had never met anyone with guards as high as this girl’s. I wanted to challenge her, but that wasn’t what today was about. After another quick glance, I just drove.
The café sat between towering oaks, its outdoor patio marked by colorful umbrellas and potted plants. The place hummed with a laid-back energy, the air scented with the rich aroma of coffee and an array of food.
We settled into a corner table. Shorty put her game face on, becoming the woman that I knew who was easy and interesting to talk to. Our conversation flowed smoothly over lunch, punctuated by her laughter at my stories. But just as the server cleared our plates, I felt a tightness in my throat, and my skin itched like crazy.
“Fuck,” I mumbled.
Ev’s eyes flew to me. “Real? Are you okay?”
“The vinaigrette. Wasn’t thinking. Raspberries in the dressing,” I managed, my voice strained. “Sometimes, I have a little reaction.”
“Oh, God. Epi-pen?”
Coughing, I shook my head. She sprang into action, flagging down a server and asking for something as she dug in her bag. A minute later, she pressed two pills into my hand and grabbed a glass of water from the returning waiter. She wanted to call an ambulance, but I flat out refused. This shit never got that bad. It was more of an annoyance than anything,
“You’re going to the hospital. I’ll lose my license if something happens to you.”
Her license; of course, that’s what she was worried about. Within minutes, she had me back in the car, her hand steady on the wheel as she drove me to the closest emergency room. She might be the nurse, but I was the one who could’ve told her how this would unfold. After an hour of observation in the busy hospital and the positive effects of the diphenhydramine she’d given me, the ER doctor let me go with a warning to take my allergies more seriously. The meds had me on my ass, though, and I still felt a little off, so Ev took me back to her house.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had allergies?” she chided gently, helping me to her couch.
“Didn’t plan on having a reaction at lunch. And I barely have time to tell you anything, Ms. Take my dick and put me out right after,” I joked weakly, my eyes feeling heavy.
I broke her sleepover rule again. And she let me do it more than once, as that reaction—stronger than usual—plus the cold I had felt coming, kicked my ass. Over the next couple of days, Ev transformed her kitchen into my personal clinic. She made me drink nasty ass herbal teas, massaged my forehead, rubbed my back, and fussed over me as I rested. Late at night, she climbed into bed with me, letting me wrap her body in mine in a way she rarely had before. Shorty was subconsciously admitting everything she’d been fighting.
On the third night, I felt good enough to ask her to go to the store with me to grab more stuff for my stay. The whole time we shopped, she showed me different products and their healing properties. She talked about that until we were headed back to her house. Once there was a break in her excitement, I questioned her motives.
“Ev,” I said softly. “Why you do all of this? Most days, you act like you don’t want me in yo’ space too long, yet you’ve given me top tier, twenty-four hour care over the last few days. You that worried about that license?”
She paused, then stuck out her tongue at me. “I’m not that cold, Real. I was that worried about you —I’ve seen reactions go much worse. Anyway, you a cute guinea pig, letting me practice the type of medicine I like. I love blending what I learned from books with what the ancestors taught us. Your allergy and the cold let me dust off my country girl skills.”
I smiled at the unguarded look in her eyes. “I’ve never met anyone like you. You got a rule book a mile long; a pussy made out of unicorn tears and fairy dust; those southern girl manners; and you want more out of life than being a show piece. You carrying all of that inside a fine ass package, then talking about giving back to your community. You sexy as fuck, girl.”
Red tinged her lightly freckled cheeks as she bit back a smile. She excused herself to shower, and I did the same in one of the guest bathrooms. The routine we had established over the last couple of nights had me meeting her in her room and bowing my head as she said the nightly prayers. After that, we climbed into bed, and I extended the same offer I had each night.
“Run it with me, love.”
We talked long into the night, Ev sharing more about her dreams of opening a chain of clinics. “I want to help erase the distrust Black people have for the medical establishment. I don’t want healthcare to be an afterthought for us.”
I listened, respecting her passion. “You’ll do it. I know everything you dream of will come true.”
“What about you? Why real estate?”
I held back for a moment. I wasn’t ashamed of my past; I just didn’t love revisiting it.
“Growing up, we didn’t have much for a while. My mom, my siblings, and I lived in places that felt more like cages than homes. My father was in jail, doing Fed time, but somehow, he finally managed to send us money. Those hard times made me fascinated with beautiful buildings, with the idea that a place could be more than just four raggedy ass walls.”
A comfortable silence settled between us, and for once, I didn’t have to reach for her. She surprised me by curling into my side.
The next morning, she let me take her to Rachel’s again. Mama and Mona didn’t even try to hide their smiles or their approving nodding and clucking.
“We don’t just cook breakfast. I can cook a soul food dinner that’ll have you slapping ya mama. You’ll have to come find out for yourself,” my auntie invited.
Startled, Ev let her gaze fly to me. I kept my face blank, curious to hear her response.
“I’d really like that,” she replied softly after a moment.
This time, she didn’t fight me about holding her hand as we left. And when I eased into the car after buckling and closing her in, she linked our fingers, resting them on her thigh.
But just as I swore we’d turned a corner, my phone buzzed. I cursed inwardly as I saw the name. Of all the fucking times for Naqeesa to call… I ignored it, but of course, she called right back. I hesitated, then answered, worried about the girls.
“Qees…”
“Whoever she is will have to wait, Real. I need you.”
Ev was quiet, but I could tell she was listening, her expression shifting as she heard Naqeesa’s statement. I knew how it had to sound. Naqeesa’s tone was too familiar with her demands. And although the situation wasn’t what Ev probably assumed, when she called, I was obligated to go.
When I hung up, the air was thick with unspoken tension. “Ev, I?—”
She held up a hand. “Take me home, Real.”
The drive was silent, that call hanging between us. As we reached her house, she turned to me, her expression firm.
“I need space, Real. This… all of this…. it’s too much right now.”
I nodded and tried to swallow the urge to protest. I failed miserably.
“You gonna let a phone call ruin all that we’ve built over the last few days? You not even allowing me to explain or rectify it.”
She kissed her teeth as she quickly shook her head.
“No explanation or rectification necessary. It’s not like we’re in a relationship!”
Her words were as cold as the icy smile on her face. She climbed out as soon as I stopped, not even allowing me to open the door for her.
“Ev—”
“You better go. She needs you, remember?” she said coolly.
I watched her walk away, the distance between us growing with each step. Fine. She could have a little time. But even as she disappeared into the house, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t right. Not by a long shot.