31. Spill
spill
Deirdre
“ Y ou said you had some tea for me. Spill it,” Skye sings from across the table, giggling over her mimosa, never ceasing to make me smile.
She stuns in an orange off-shoulder maxi dress as her brown skin twinkles with shimmer beneath the sun.
Some people may shine, but Skye glows , lugging that heavy light and kindly sharing it with us.
I know it's only been a few weeks, but I missed her.
Living in Austin has felt as if I’m on an island all by myself, until Scar. Thankfully, Houston isn’t far, and I least get to see Skye from time to time.
My long-distance relationships with the girls weigh on me at times, but we make an effort to meet up whenever we can.
I gulp down my mimosa to prepare for this conversation.
Whew. Here goes.
“So, you remember that guy I told you about?” I start, dragging my eyes to meet hers.
“Scar? The secret admirer?” She gasps.
“I—uh sort of met him not too long ago,” I opt to share instead of confirming.
My eyes dart around the patio in search of him and come up empty. But I know that doesn’t mean he isn’t close by.
“Excuse me? Why am I just now hearing this?” Her head jerks back in surprise, her earrings swaying with the motion.
“Well, I wasn’t exactly sure how to bring it up. You know that book you recommended with the thirst trap stalker?” I say in a hushed voice.
“Yeah. Did you like it? And why are you whispering?” she asks with her brows drawn, taking a sip of her mimosa.
“I loved it, but I’m being stalked. Right now.” It’s the first time I’ve ever said it aloud to anyone else. And I feel like I’m talking about the fucking Boogeyman and not the man I think about every time I come.
“What?” she splutters, choking on her drink. She coughs into her elbow and holds up a finger with her free hand, signaling me to wait as she gets herself together. “I understand I cannot drink for this conversation. Go on,” she urges.
”I’m certain that he has my phone tapped and can hear everything I say,” I inform her while taking a bite of my French toast.
She raises a brow. “Are you serious? Dee.”
I nod as I swallow, my hair tickling my back with the aggressiveness of the motion, and her eyes widen. When the shock wears off, she’ll want an explanation, which I’ll give.
Then again, Skye is the “no judgment friend.” The one you call if you need to hide a body. She’ll pull up with an array of shovels, no questions asked. The one you can confess your sins to, and she’ll root for the chaos.
“So, is he your secret admirer? Or do you have two potential stalkers at the same time?”
“Thankfully, I got a two-in-one special,” I say with a wince.
She blinks at me. “You are electric sliding too fast, and I can’t keep up. Give it to me at turtle speed. Now,” she orders, leveling me with a stare.
“Okay. It’s the same guy, and I’ve seen him around my house.”
“Fuck. Is this connected to your family?” she asks, throwing her hand over her mouth.
“That’s the thing, he kinda is. But he’s supposed to be looking out for me.”
“Like a bodyguard?”
“Uh–-kind of. I guess.” Except he’s also seen my pussy and came on my bed.
“What’s he look like? Show me a picture right now,” she whisper-shouts.
The only picture I have of him comes to mind, causing me to squeeze my thighs together.
“Sooo…I don’t have one? I’ve never seen his full face because he wears a mask.”
I brace myself, because now that I’m saying this out loud, it’s even more ridiculous than it sounded in my head.
She scoffs. ”You’re fucking with me right now. My Deirdre doesn’t live life on the edge. You need an itinerary for every adventure.”
She isn’t wrong.
“I know, but this fell into my lap unexpectedly,” I add, taking another bite of my food.
“Have you? Fallen into his lap by chance?” she asks with a smirk.
The waiter approaches the table wearing an awkward smile as he refills the mimosa pitcher. “How is everything?”
There’s no way he didn’t hear that.
But us women are notorious for having the most outrageous conversations in public.
“Amazing,” we rush to answer, our voices overlapping each other.
“Great. Need a refill on that water? ” he asks Skye, eyes dropping to her empty glass.
“Yes, please. Thank you so much,” she answers.
When he leaves, I blurt my response, knowing he’ll be returning soon.
“Not exactly, but I may have let him talk me through it…and use a toy on me at work.”
Her jaw drops. “You nasty girl. I am impressed. Does Alora know?”
Uhh. About that.
We’re interrupted once again by the waiter returning with a frosty pitcher to refill Skye’s water. We wait for his exit to continue.
“Not yet. She has so much going on right now, and I don’t want her to worry.”
Alora isn’t judgmental in the slightest. I attribute that to her being raised by a lawyer and a therapist. She’s the “airtight alibi” friend. The “use her whiteness to keep you out of trouble” friend.
They’re both ride or die in their own ways.
“So, you want me to worry instead?” She giggles. “Well, we have to tell her eventually. Shit. I’ll do it with you,” she cackles over her words.
“Thank you. This isn’t an easy thing to share. Given how strange it is,” I add, trying not to feel shame over my questionable choices.
“Wait. What about the guy you met at the club? Have you talked to him?”
I nod. “Xavier. We’re going out next weekend,” I say hesitantly, knowing Scar may be listening.
“How will, uh, what’s his name, feel about this?” she whispers, taking to glancing around as well, as if she knows what he looks like.
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” I reply before sipping more of my drink.
My phone chimes expectedly, and I flip it over, anticipating a text for confirmation that he’s listening right now. Sure enough, he is.
2 Unread Messages From Scar
Scar
You’re telling people about us?
I told Mami about you.
I tried to give you some privacy, until I heard my name…and his.
Jealous, are we?
Scar
No. You can do better is all.
Enjoy your time with Skye. Tell her I said hello, since I’m no longer a secret.
I smile as I read his messages, tilting the phone toward Skye for proof that we indeed have an audience.
“Hi, Scar.” She snorts and waves at the screen. “Girl. You really weren’t lying. I’m gonna need time to process this, but I wish you had a damn picture. I gotta know what he looks like,” she laments.
“You and me both,” I tell her with a sigh.