Chapter 7 #2
“Fourthly, my significant other is a lot of great things, but she’s nothing she’s been referred to as for the last few days.
Next time she crosses your screen, be sure to remember that she’s a beautiful, well-educated, resourceful, entrepreneurial, witty, adventurous, brave, and confident Black woman who cares little about what the world thinks of her and everything about what she thinks of herself.
“She’s not afraid of her reflection in the mirror. I can’t say the same for Daniels, Herd, or the person who turned a tender moment into a public display of malice and ill intent.”
I had nothing further to say. Neither did I care to answer questions. There were forty seconds left on the clock. I didn’t have those to spare.
I was back in my office, bathing in solitude, by the time the time ran out. Outside of my door, hands came together, sounding off in the silence. I peered out of the glass to find my staff in celebration.
I waved a hand, letting Matte know it was okay for her to come in. She rushed inside.
“Oh shoots.”
She tripped over her feet, landing face first in front of my desk. She’d disappeared. I waited patiently for her to rise again. This was typical of Matte. She was working with two left feet.
“You good?”
Chuckling, she nodded. Simultaneously, she pulled her dress down. She was no longer apologetic for her clumsiness. And, everyone in the office had gotten accustomed to it.
“I’ve never been better, sir.”
“What’s with the celebration?”
“Your speech, Mr. Grayson. It has social media buzzing. Especially the parts where you used profanity. And, the parts about policing women’s bodies. Oh, and, about sex work or escorts not being derogatory terms. And, of course, Royce.”
“Royce? They’ve mentioned her name?”
Matte nodded.
“Um hm. It seems as though they’ve discovered who the mystery woman is.”
“And?”
“Uncovered pictures of you two. Is there anything you haven’t told us?”
I shook my head, “Nah. I told you she was handling it.”
“If this is her way of going about things, then– well– I like it.”
“She’s good at her job.”
“She’s pretty darn impressive.”
I nodded.
“And, pretty.”
I nodded, again.
“I mean– they’re loving her! They’re loving you all. They’ve given you a hashtag already.”
I hated social media. It was such a wild place.
It gave so many powerless people ammunition.
So many people lost their souls in the midst of strangers.
Too many people had a microphone. Everyone wanted to be a main character.
No one wanted to sit the socials out or simply enjoy them for the entertainment they were designed to be.
Everyone wanted in. Everyone wanted a voice.
Everyone wanted a platform. Everyone wanted a network.
Aside from my campaign, I didn’t have a social media presence. I didn’t have a personal page. Neither did I have any of the applications downloaded on my phone. Posting felt too much like providing evidence to the public and authorities in the event they needed to use it against you.
But, as Matte turned her screen around and Royce’s handle was tagged next to the hashtag Rayson, I reconsidered my stance on the platforms.
Maybe one day. I reasoned.
Not for posting. Not for entertaining. Not to become the main character of anyone’s story. But, to become a supporting character in Royce’s story. Her number one fan. The first comment on her posts. The first one to tap the red hearts. The person to hype her. The person to praise her. Openly.
“Click her page.”
@CCRoyce
Six posts.
Her beautiful face was obstructed in them all. Three fully clothed photos were between three vacation photos. Her page said many things without saying anything. It proved many things without proving anything.
I slid down slightly, placing a hand underneath my chin as I stared at the images. Royce was as close to heaven I’d ever reach. I had to have her. If not now, then eventually. Soon. In the next ninety days. I couldn’t fathom waiting longer.
“This is not a hoax for you, huh?”
I didn’t look up from the phone. My eyes were still pinned on the screen, still pinned on her when I responded, “No, Matte. It’s not.”
“You’re starting to like her.”
“This is no start. I’ve felt this way since I met her.”
“That night.”
I nodded.
“That night.”
Matte said nothing more. She waited in silence as I studied every detail of Royce. It wasn’t until I was ready that I returned the cell.
“If you need me, I’ll be in my office.”
“Noted.”
The door closed quietly behind her. As it did so, I picked up my cell. I flipped it from one side to the other in my hand, contemplating my next move.
There was an overwhelming urge to make contact with Royce. Too many hours had passed since I’d seen her face or heard her voice. From the lack of movement on the tracker, I knew she was no longer in Berkeley. She was back home, in Clarke.
That’s exactly where I wanted to be. Right beside her.
I unlocked my cell, deciding that a text would be best.
Thank you.
I kept it simple. There was no need for an explanation. She had her eyes on the prize. She might’ve been in Clarke, but her ears were on Berkeley’s soil.
I didn’t close our thread. I ran a hand around my neck as I waited for gray bubbles to appear. A yawn cut through my concentration, forming tears in my eyes. Sleep hadn’t been easy to come by last night.
I ruffled my sheets with the constant tossing and turning. Insomnia twiddled with my sanity all night. I rose just before sunrise, feeling quite shitty. However, duty called.
There were three communities to visit and a school’s book fair where I purchased every book the children’s hearts desired. I remembered not having the funds to splurge during the yearly school book fair. No kid should suffer that level of heartbreak at such a young age.
You owe me. Her reply was accompanied by a winking emoji.
My account is in great standing. Two point five has been satisfied.
I slid my index and middle finger across my lips, awaiting her response. One minute turned into two. Two minutes turned into three. Ten minutes slipped away from me before I noticed how tightly I was gripping the phone. Eyes still locked on the screen.
My stomach flipped. My head spun. My chest expanded with entitlement. Daniels was accurate when he noted my addiction. A new habit. A good habit. Royce was quickly becoming the source of my obsession.
Blanche’s Steakhouse.
Tonight at 7p.
Send the address. I’ll have a driver at your door by 6:30p.
My fingers were moving at the speed of lightning. I couldn’t deny it any longer. It was Royce who I wanted to end my night with. The victory didn’t feel as victorious without her to celebrate with.
My schedule was clear after three. I could be in Clarke by nightfall and at Blanche’s by seven.
It was one of the many restaurants I’d found in Clarke while tossing and turning last night.
A note in my cell listed the places I found interesting and wanted to visit with Royce.
Traveling to Berkeley wasn’t a requirement.
Clarke was calling me. If that’s where she was, then that’s where I wanted to be.
Sorry, Mr. Mayor. I have dinner plans already.
Cancel them.
I can’t, unfortunately. I’ve canceled on him three times already.
Him?
I felt my eyebrows creep to the center of my forehead as I read the message twice more before responding again.
Royce.
Yes, him. As much as I love playing in pussy, it’s not my preference.
I could feel the heat raging in my body. My blood was no longer flowing with ease. It was boiling.
That’s not a good idea. You’re all over the screens. You could easily be recognized and there goes the campaign.
I’m careful, Ishmael. This is a private dinner. No one will be in the restaurant but the staff, owner, and a waitress. NDAs have been signed. Any more concerns?
Cancel the date, Royce.
My client’s need comes before mine. Always have. It’ll be fine.
Then why the fuck do I feel like I need you and you’re not here? I erased the message as it appeared in my head and decided against replying. She’d made up her mind and so had I.