Chapter 24 #2
Isis groaned, burying her face in a velvet throw pillow.
“Oh, it had presence. I’m talkin’ trombone in a sold-out symphony hall—deep, dramatic, rich in tone, and absolutely uninvited.
There was no denying it. I was stuck bent over, couture in the air, and cheeks on display…
just me and my personal scandal.” She peeked up, mortified.
“That man looked at me and said, ‘Damn… did something come out behind that?’ I swear my spirit tried to exit stage left. I was ready to gather my crystals, my dignity, and disappear into the night like a disgraced socialite.”
Adrian was still clowning. “So what happened after that? Don’t tell me you left.”
“Nope! At least not right then.”
Chesteria squinted. “Wait… you stayed?”
“Yup. Because guess what? That man had the audacity to respond… by farting back!” Isis clutched her invisible pearls like her spirit had been violated.
“Like… eww! Mine was a moment of human vulnerability. His? That was a calculated bassline.” She shook her head, appalled.
“And it wasn’t even discreet. No, he hit me with one of those ridiculous, deep-bellied ‘BBbrRRRTT!’s like we were performing some sort of gastrointestinal duet.
Then he had the nerve to say, ‘Now we’re even.
” Even? Sir, this isn’t a jazz battle! This is my reputation! I was wearing Chanel No. 5 and shame!”
Chesteria chuckled. “So did y’all still have sex… even after y’all orchestrated a fart symphony?!”
Isis shrugged, shamelessly. “Uh… yeah, girl! I didn’t steam my cat, bedazzle my titties, and shave my legs in the opposite direction just to go home empty-handed!
Do you know how many layers of setting spray I used?
How long I sat on that cold marble floor in heels, practicing my 'walk like you got secrets' pose? I damn near dislocated a hip stretching for that slow bend-over moment. So yes, ma’am, something had to come outta all that effort… besides air.”
Chesteria tugged the blanket over her lap and side-eyed the group. “Alright, my turn. Bryce, you already know about this one.”
“You talkin’ about the Zoom, right?”
Chesteria tried to hide her face behind the blanket. “Yes!”
Grinning, I gave a knowing nod.
“Isis and Adrian don’t judge,” she practically begged.
Adrian raised a brow. “Now you know damn well that is gonna happen.”
“Right! Ready to judge and laugh!” Isis added. “Come on with it!”
Chesteria groaned. “Ugh, I hate y’all! Okay, so it was peak COVID, right?
I’m teaching a virtual college course—Intro to Human Behavior and Trauma Processing—real serious stuff.
But since we were on a quick break between lectures, I figured I’ll knock out a few midterms while I had the time.
I had trap music blasting in my AirPods…
like, full-on, bass-thumping, ‘pop that’ type ignorance—therapeutic!
Anyway, I was already three cups of coffee deep.
So I’m in my zone, vibing, twerking in my chair a little.
I get up to stretch, thinking my camera’s off.
Y’all…” she shook her head, “…I was in that lil box at the top, Milly Rockin’ on every Zoom block. ”
The room erupted in laughter.
“No, for real! I’m talkin’ full Meg knees, two-hand coordination, a little pelvic action—the whole nine.”
Adrian wheezed. “Not you throwing it back during office hours!”
“She even yelled at her cat mid-twerk,” I egged on.
Chesteria playfully tossed a pillow at me. “Now you know Oreo is a sensitive topic.”
I held a hand to my chest, mock solemn. “My bad. I forgot. Rest in peace, Oreo.”
I was there for Chesteria when her cat died.
I held her hand, bought flowers, even nodded along while she cried, talkin’ bout, “he was like a child to me.” But if we keepin’ it a buck?
I was happy as hell—shit, relieved—when he died.
That cat had it out for me from day one.
I ain’t never liked cats, anyway, so the feelings were mutual.
But Oreo? That lil’ demon would post up in the hallway like he ran security.
It used to look me in the eye and knock my keys off the table like, “You still here?” Me and him stayed in a silent beef, like two bitter uncles who lent each other money in ‘98 and never spoke again. He’d hiss, and I’d hiss back.
The whole house sounded like a busted radiator.
Chesteria always tried to defend him by saying, “he’s just territorial.
” Nah. He was a devil in white fur, and I was this close to baptizing his lil’ ass in holy water.
The day of his ‘funeral, Chesteria set up this sweet lil’ corner in the living room with candles, his collar in a shadow box, and a photo like he was a damn war hero.
I lit one of them candles and whispered, “Rest easy, opp.”
“You ain’t right. But yup, I told Oreo he better get out of the way before he got stepped on! That’s how I knew I was too deep into the moment. Then suddenly I heard, ‘Um… Professor Hollis, I think you’re unmuted.’”
“So wait… the students saw all that?” Isis asked, laughing.
Chesteria nodded like it physically hurt.
“Oh, they saw it… and heard it. Apparently, my camera and mic were still on. So all they heard was, ‘I don’t dance now, I make money moves’…
and me yelling at my cat. Oh, but that wasn’t the kicker.
One of the students screen recorded it, edited it, added captions, and then uploaded it to Facebook with the title ‘When the teacher said she needed a mental health day’.
From there? It spread like wildfire. It got over four thousand views and even made it to my pastor’s wife! ”
Isis was crying now. “Girl, did they roast you?”
“That’s the crazy part… they loved it! I got emails like, ‘Professor Hollis, we stan your energy!’ and ‘You gave what needed to be gave!’ One girl even said I inspired her to twerk through her depression.
When we were able to return to the campus, one of my colleagues handed me a Starbucks gift card and said, ‘For the next time you feel the beat.’ And one of my students advised me to stay in the gym to keep my knees strong. Embarrassed was an understatement.”
Adrian was doubled over in laughter. “Now that shit was funny as hell. It would’ve have paid for me to been one of your students that day. I would’ve told the class, ‘Turn to Chapter Twerk, Verse Body Roll.’”
Chesteria rolled her eyes, grinning. “Adrian, hush!”
“Nah, for real,” he added, wiping his face. “Is it still up? I gotta see this.”
Chesteria gasped dramatically. “Hell no! The student who uploaded it didn’t do it to be messy or malicious.
She was actually one of my best students.
She made this whole ‘Women in Academia’ appreciation post with screenshots of me mid-twerk and everything.
She even hit me with a caption like, ‘When your professor grades with rhythm and grace. Still, I begged her to take it down… and she did with no problem.”
Isis waved Adrian off. “Girl, don’t listen to him. That’s not embarrassing; that’s iconic! Now you might’ve failed them, but you taught them confidence.”
Chesteria held up a hand. “And pelvic control.” She laughed. “But tell that to my dean, who now refers to me as Professor Pop, Lock, and Drop It. Word of advice… always check if the damn camera red dot is on.”
I smirked. “Still the best damn video I’ve ever seen.”
Chesteria shot me a teasing glare. “Is it really, though?”
I leaned back just slightly, gripping my cup, and let the laugh fade from my face.
I knew exactly what she was hinting at. Chesteria wasn’t referring to no classroom comedy clip.
Nah… she meant a video from one of our wild-ass, reckless, lights-off-but-camera-still-rolling' nights.
The ones we never meant to keep but did anyway.
The ones that lived in the privacy of my “Do Not Open Without a Lawyer” album.
Yeah, I still had them—all of them.
There were nights I replayed them just to watch the way Chesteria moved, how she said my name, how her body looked in the heat of it.
I’d catch myself stroking to her voice, her moans, her damn silhouette, like a man trying to remember what heaven felt like.
So when she asked, "Is it really, though?" I didn’t answer out loud. I smiled like a man who’d seen her body do miracles under candlelight.
I rubbed my face like I already regretted talking. “Aight… I’m up next. So I got my ass beat in fifth grade,” I confessed with a straight face.
Adrian laughed. “Nah, now.” He scooted to the edge of the couch. “Proceed, brother.”
Isis rubbed her hands together. “Oh, this shit finna be good!”
Chesteria looked over, confused. “Really, Bryce?” she asked, disbelief lacing her tone.
Chesteria was probably more shocked that she had never heard that story than the fact that I once got my ass beat.
When me and Chesteria was together we shared damn near everything, from past trauma to that one time I fake-cried at my cousin’s funeral just ‘cause I ain’t wanna be the only dry face in the pews.
Whole time I ain’t even like him. That nigga stole my Game Boy in ‘03.
“Real shit. I thought I was tough back in fifth grade. I thought I was untouchable. I had the flyest girl in class. But this other dude named Derrick used to always try to flirt with her. He was one of them smart-ass kids that corrected the teacher, ate string cheese with two hands, wore Velcro shoes with confidence, and read chapter books at recess. Like bro, go play or something.”
“Oh goodness!” Isis said, leaning in, messy as ever.
“Anyway, one day I saw him making her laugh too hard and I ain’t like that. So I told him, ‘Aye, after school, I’m on yo’ ass.’ I said it all tough, like I had hands or something. Big mistake. Mind y’all, I had never been in a real fight. The only thing I’d ever swung at was a fly.”
Chesteria was already shaking her head.