56. Everly
One indication of how deeply country I remained was my love of local festivals and the carnivals that came with them. Our family reunion fell during Emancipation’s Pecan Festival, and many of us were going this Saturday evening. There was a funnel cake with my name written on it. Even though Real and I were caught up in a sort of awkward truce, I wanted him to come see my town on brightly-lit, quickly spinning display. I walked out of my room and crossed the hall to his. The door was half open.
I peeked in to see Real sprawled across the bed, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of deep sleep. I paused, taking in the sight of him, my uncertainty momentarily softened by the familiar pull of attraction. I bit my lip as my gaze traveled over his fine ass. He wanted to lie here looking all irresistible like this and think I wasn’t gon’ try him? Oh, this was war.
I slid onto the bed, my hands trailing over his skin with a deliberate slowness, my lips brushing against his ear.
Real stirred, a sleepy frown creasing his forehead. “Love, what the hell?” he mumbled, eyes blinking open, confusion giving way to realization.
My smile was all challenge. “Reminding you of what you’re missing,” I murmured.
Real sat up, a fake gasp escaping him as he clutched a lilac throw against his broad chest. “If you don’t get yo’ lil’ fast ass away from me, I’ll scream,” he threatened dramatically.
I fell back on the bed. “Are we really still on this?” I whined. “I told you I’d think about it, Montréal!”
Lifting himself, he hovered over me and pressed a soft kiss against my forehead. “You better think fast, Love,” he said before standing and disappearing from the room.
I pulled a pillow over my face, refusing to let him hear my frustrated scream.
* * *
We didn’t even get two booths in before I was eyeing the big stuffed animals longingly. Real noticed my pause in front of a garishly glowing basketball stand. My gaze landed on a pale orange bear and determination spread through me. I reached for my crossbody bag.
“I wish the hell you would,” Real said.
I shrugged. “You can pay, but I got this.”
He scoffed before turning to talk to the guy running the booth. Twenty-five dollars; fifteen shots; he had to make twelve for the extra-large prizes.
“Watch this,” he told me smugly.
I watched all right—watched him make nine shots and watched the carnival employee hand me a blue elephant.
“Pay him again,” I demanded. “And watch me work.”
Real chuckled but paid up. Thirteen rimless shots later, I squealed as the bear was placed in my arms.
“Here,” I told Real, handingover my prize.
“His name is Sherbet.”
“You give me the nicest shit, shorty,” he said, grinning.
I blinked rapidly. “I try. Your turn. Where to?”
He only had to think for a moment. “How about the Ferris Wheel?”
I nodded, and he handed Sherbet to a scowling Targen, then grabbed my hand. We strolled through the crowd, our shoulders brushing occasionally as we walked. When we reached the Ferris Wheel, Real had a quick word with the operator, slipping the guy a couple of bills. I watched the exchange, my curiosity piqued despite myself.
“What are you plotting?” I asked, a small smile curving my mouth.
“You’ll see,” Real replied with a wink, taking my hand and leading me to the creaky metal seat. We buckled ourselves in, and the operator double-checked.
As the Ferris Wheel began its ascent, the Festival’s lights sparkled below us, a sea of movement and color. The higher we climbed, the quieter it became, the noise of the crowd fading into a distant hum.
I gazed out over Emancipation, my heart soft for this hard-won land of my ancestors. “It’s beautiful from up here,” I whispered.
“Yeah, it is,” Real agreed, though I could feel his eyes on me. “Got me enjoying all this country shit. What the fuck is a Pecan Festival anyway?”
I laughed at his exclamations. “Small town way of acknowledging and celebrating what God provides. Before the oil boom, the first families of Emancipation purchased the rights to the land by harvesting pecans. A random fact about this small town you refuse to leave.”
He sucked his teeth. “You think about our situation?”
I hesitated at the abrupt change of subject, my fingers tracing the metal bar in front of us. “I have.”
Real leaned in, his voice gentle but insistent. “And?”
I sighed. “Maybe I just don’t see how it’ll last. Things like this don’t, a lot of times. And as much as I don’t want to use the past as a reference, it’s the reason why I have to protect myself.”
Real’s expression softened. “You’re scared it’ll fall apart, so you won’t even let it begin, Love.”
I opened my mouth, but I hesitated, a bit of uncertainty flickering inside me. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not? It can be,” he challenged, a teasing note in his voice.
Suddenly, the Ferris Wheel jerked to a stop at the very top, the world spread out below us like a living map. I took a deep breath, the warm night air filling my lungs.
“I’ve seen too many people fall for a dream and get left with nothing,” I said softly.
“I’m not a dream. I’m right here, trying to show you I’m serious,” Real said quietly, his gaze steady. “You worried about falling; you think if you fell for me, I wouldn’t be there to catch you?”
If I fell? Ha! That ship had sailed long ago.
“You scared or something?” he pressed.
I shot him a sharp look. “Scared? Of you? Please.”
“Then what? You afraid of being a kept woman?” he asked, his tone light but serious. “I told you I’m definitely trying to keep you.”
I laughed, a genuine sound that eased the tension between us. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“Shiii, I am,” Real shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. “But seriously, Love. I can say I want this. I want you. I want us. And I think you do, too.”
Silence stretched between us, only the soft creaking of the car filling the air. Finally, I turned to him, my heart tentatively hopeful.
“You really think we can make it work?”
“I know we can,” Real said, his voice steady. “We’ve come this far, haven’t we?”
I breathed in four counts and then exhaled slowly. My mind whirled, but I knew there was only one answer I wanted to give.
“Okay,” I said softly, a smile breaking through.
The rest of the ride passed in a blur as happiness, cautious but intoxicating, spilled through me. Real and I climbed out of the seat of the Ferris Wheel. I didn't even fuss as he held my hand, leading me down the few steps to the short grass of Freedom's Field and toward the bright lights of a concession stand. The words he'd just spoken to me made me feel light... happy. He could definitely keep me and I wanted to keep him.
"C'mon and get this funnel cake. I guess you deserve it," he teased.
I popped my lips. "You guess? After that big ol' bear I won you? Give me some credit."
"Lucky shot," he scoffed.
I elbowed him in the side, smirking as he bent over and huffed out a breath.
"All twelve-plus-one of 'em? Such a hater, Montréal."
I pranced in front of him, but swung around when I heard another "oof!" escape him. Real cupped the back of his head as he glared at Targen, who had just walked up with Theory. From the way Targen was holding Real's bear, I knew he'd hit Real with it.
"Fuck wrong with you, nigga?" Real barked.
"Got me out here walking with this big ass, orange sherbet bear while yo' ass over here holding hands and probably stealing words from love songs, weak ass nigga," Targen groused.
"Gimme my bear," I snapped, yanking it out of his grip. "Come on, Sherbet. They don't appreciate what I went through."
“Sorry, Targen,” I said, as I grinned.
Theory kissed her teeth. "Cousin, Targen fronting. That Creamsicle bear with the rainbows on its paws had all the girlies checking him out. You know the attention went to his head," she teased.
Targen scowled down at her.
"Ay, yo, shorty, don't even play with me like that. Make me show you something."
I waited for her to shrink back. She bit her lip and then, in a move that made me so happy for her, she said, "What you gon' show me?"
"Ayyyy!" I crowed, hyping her up as Targen pulled her close and spoke in a low voice.
"I'ma show my appreciation for this ugl'ass bear tonight, too," Real murmured, his warm breath against my ear making me shiver.
"Bout time," I shot back.
"Time for what?" PawPaw's voice boomed from behind us.
I'd been so caught up in my reaction to Real that I hadn't seen my grandparents walk up. I felt my face flame as I tried to hide it behind the bear.
"Get out of her business, Lee Earnest." Granny saved me, swatting at PawPaw as she fussed. "Stay over here and talk to these children while Love and I ride the Tilt-A-Whirl. I come back and see Jeanette anywhere around you, I'm whooping her ass and yours."
Our mouths dropped open, and PawPaw hemmed and hawed as Granny linked her arm through mine.
"Annette, don't nobody want no Jeanette!" he grumbled.
"Granny!" I finally got out.
She pursed her lips, looking unapologetic.
"Got off the carousel with Hy and Lanthe, and she standing by him, tryna drape them sagging titties over his arm and running her mouth. I told her off politely that time. Next time, I'm snatching that crunchy ass wig off her head!" she exclaimed.
"Granny!"
Theory and I both gasped this time, while Real chuckled in the background, Granny kissed her teeth.
"What you young girls say? She tried it! She better not again!"
"I know that's right, Granny," Real piped up.
I glared at him. He shrugged, grinning big as hell.
"Alma Annette Miller, quit putting on a show for these children and go on!" PawPaw scolded, smacking her gently on her butt.
"You heard what I said," she popped off before pulling me away.
"Corn dog and lemonade, too," I called out to Real as I obediently followed my grandmother.
As long as we'd been coming to the Pecan Festival's Carnival, Granny had made it a habit to share a ride with each one of us. She and I loved the Tilt-A-Whirl. We chatted about how big the Carnival had gotten as we ambled toward the old school ride. We only made it a few yards when I heard a distinctive voice say, "Youngin'."
My head snapped up. Wordlessly, I looked into the face of Tate Thibadeau. A jumbled mix of feelings swept through me suddenly as I stared at him standing there with a couple of assistants, a camerawoman, and a small entourage. All eyes were on me and the shit pissed me off.
"Don't call me that," I hissed.
The audacity of him!
"Love," Granny said softly. "You okay, baby?"
"Mm-hmm. Just somebody I used to think I knew." I glared up at Tate. "If you and your crew could let us by?—"
He whispered something to an assistant and handed off his tablet before stepping toward me.
"Young—Everly," he corrected himself as I grilled him. "Jesus, you're still so beautiful. Let me talk to you for a minute."
At one point, that request would've thrilled me. Now, I felt nothing but disdain.
"I know you! You running for lieutenant governor, huh?" Granny asked, eyeballing Tate.
That wide politician's grin spread across his face. My stomach churned in disgust.
"Yes, ma'am. We've been trying to get our message out at local events. I'm giving a speech in just a few minutes, but I'd like a moment of Everly's time."
He'd been groomed to look perfect. Crisp lineup. Impeccable complexion. Perfect smile. Clothes that were casual but obviously designer. He was gorgeous…
And I didn't give a damn.
"You have nothing to talk to me about, Mr. Thibadeau," I said, voice tight. "Granny, let's go."
She slid her arm out of mine and grabbed my hand, squeezing it. Tate ignored what I said, stepping closer after he instructed his crew to move back.
"Ev, please.”
I shook my head.
“Get away from me!”
“I fumbled you, Youngin'. I've regretted it ever since. I'm sorry. I'd like to see you," he said softly.
"Hmph! You barely divorced, according to the paper, and you talking 'bout seeing my grandbaby?"
Granny turned up her little nose. I just laughed. This nigga had obviously lost his mind.
"You seeing me now, unfortunately. I have no interest in seeing you further. Talking about you fumbled me. You dropped me and almost broke me. I trusted you and I loved you. That meant nothing to you then, just like you mean nothing to me now. Now, move!" I snapped.
I started to walk around him, my granny on my heels. He grabbed my arm and then my chin, tilting my head so our eyes met. He looked sincere, but I didn't give a fuck. He was too worried about appearances and opinions, a weakness I couldn’t deal with. It took me years to realize that but doing so had made him completely a turn off to me.
"C'mon Youngin' –"
"Whoa, now. I'ma need you to get your hands off her quickly."
Real's voice sounded a second before I felt him behind me. A strong arm encircled my waist, and I leaned into him. Tate frowned. He looked at us for a minute before speaking again.
"I don't see a ring on her finger or yours. I just want?—"
Real grabbed Tate's wrist and squeezed.
"I don't give a fuck what you see. I said move yo' hands and that's what I meant. Stop touching her before these people be recording me beating yo' ass," Real growled.
Wincing, Tate dropped my arm. Real released him, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. It stopped abruptly when Tate said my name again. I glared up at him.
"I'ma see you, Youngin'," he vowed lowly.
I felt Real's body shift and then start to move around me. His solid frame was tense, like he was ready to spring into action.
"Ay—" he started.
I grabbed his hand. I needed no help with this.
"I already explained shit to you. If you come near me again, I'll make a scene so bad, you won't even be able to get elected to the school board, much less the lieutenant governor's seat," I spat.
Tate stiffened, his light complexion going pale. I shook my head. Same ol' Tate. I laughed out loud.
"What's it like to be damn near thirty and living for other people's opinion?" I taunted.
This time he was quiet. But the damage had already been done. My light mood of minutes ago was gone. I apologized to Granny Nette before requesting that Real just take me home.