The Prettiest Outlaw

Chapter 2

I used to love Christmas time. It was actually my favorite time of the year up until three years ago. Three years ago, my daddy died unexpectedly of a massive heart attack. On top of that, my favorite sister got married and started a family. And as if those two things weren’t enough, my mother took up with a new man whose passion was jet-setting all over the world and taking my mother with him. Three years ago, she sold the family home, talking about, “ Too many unpleasant memories there, Juli, too many unpleasant memories .” And she moved in with her new friend, Marcellus Devonshire.

Marcellus was a nice man—kind, fun loving and generous, but things were too different. The dynamics were too different, and I could not find my footing. There were just too many changes for me to process or handle. The only thing I could manage to do was to slowly retreat inside of myself.

During the Christmas season, all I wanted were the familiar comforts of family togetherness. I wanted to bake cookies with my sisters, decorate the oversized Christmas tree at my parents’ house, and wrap presents for my nieces and nephews, but everything was different. I no longer had parents. Now, I only had one parent.

My sisters were both married and didn’t have time to bake cookies with just the three of us. Now, they were baking cookies with their children and making memories that didn’t include me. Since Jianna and her husband, Dolton, couldn’t stop getting pregnant, I didn’t just have Jia’s boys as nephews anymore. Now, I had two nephews from Jia and a nephew, two nieces, and another niece or nephew on the way from Jianna.

Everything was different.

I disembarked the plane at Midway Airport. I was back from my week-long vacation on the Caribbean island of Iredia. This was my second year spending the holiday season in Iredia because I couldn’t take all of the Christmas that the United States liked to shove down my throat. At the resort on Iredia, I wasn’t faced with one decorated tree, one carol, or one present. It was all beach… all the time, and I had the tan to show for it.

My phone rang as I made my way from baggage claim to the parking garage. I answered quickly after recognizing the number as my best friend, Ravyn Moreland.

“What up, mami?” I asked her with forced giddiness I had to pull up from my toes.

“Have you landed? Are you back on American soil? Because I’m really looking forward to this gala tonight. I paid for a small sponsorship. They’re putting some of my brochures in the swag bags. I should get at least a little bit of business from this event,” she said.

I smiled in spite of myself. “Yep. I’m headed to my truck now. That was smart. Brittanie always has a good turn out, and her swag bags are the talk of the city.”

Brittanie Hill was kind of my sister-in-law. I wasn’t exactly sure how it worked. Her husband, Dominic, and Jianna’s husband, Dolton, were brothers. Technically, she was my sister’s sister-in-law. I wasn’t sure what that made her to me… probably nothing. Still, when I spoke of Brittanie, I referred to her as my sister-in-law. Maybe it was a cultural thing. Black people had the tendency to adopt each other as familial relations based on a myriad of circumstances. I was pretty sure that was a hold over from the times of enslavement.

Ravyn owned a matchmaking business that catered to Chicago’s well-heeled singles. She worked so hard behind the scenes to keep her business growing and relevant that she never really went out, and going to one of the city’s largest New Year’s Eve events was a big deal for her.

I had absolutely no interest in hanging out anywhere except in my own bed on New Year’s Eve. I had no interest in celebrating or partying. The only thing I had interest in was getting through the last of the holiday season, because truth be told, it was bringing me down. I didn’t feel like I was in a depression, but I definitely felt like I was… blue. I was sad. I was lonely.

I was looking forward to the second of January more than I was looking forward to anything else in life.

* * *

Brittanie’s New Year’s Eve fundraiser was for her Mismanaged Angels Foundation . The foundation worked to raise money for college scholarships and funding in general for young adults aging out of the foster care system. The event was an upscale affair and always drew a diverse and interesting crowd. I planned to put my best foot forward regardless of what I was feeling or experiencing on the inside.

After a shower, I moisturized. My hair was already done. My stylist had been able to fit me in, and fashioned my hair into an upswept “French roll” like style. I gave my face a very light, glam beat.

Once that was done, I slid into the flowy pink floral cocktail dress with the deep plunge in the front and the deep split on the side. By the time I wiggled my feet into the fifteen hundred dollar, white Freedom Journey sandals and grabbed my tiny, beaded, white evening bag, the car that Ravyn and I ordered was outside waiting for me. I quickly spritzed myself with my favorite Brown Girl Jane scent and headed out of the door.

I could tell that Ravyn had already started to pregame the minute I slid into the backseat of the Mercedes Benz S Class. Her eyes were glassy, but it was the flute filled to the top with champagne in her hand that was the dead giveaway.

“Let’s toast,” she told me a second after the driver had shut the car door behind me.

She handed me a glass then unsteadily filled it with liquid.

“What are we toasting to, Rae?” I reached out to stop her hand from pouring. There were two things I didn’t need, and both of them were champagne on my dress.

She struggled to get the bottle back into its holder. When she finally did, she let out a gleeful giggle then turned her attention to me.

“We’re toasting to the new year.”

I held up my half-filled glass with a nod.

“May the new year,” she began, “be better than the one we’re leaving in the rearview at midnight.”

We clinked glasses.

“Yes, sir.” I took a dainty sip, while Ravyn practically chugged hers.

I couldn’t have agreed more with my homegirl’s toast. The last few years had sucked ass as far as I was concerned. The only positive thing to come out of this year had been me finally discovering my passion. I smiled on the inside as my thoughts went to my new passion.

Ravyn topped off her glass.

I side eyed her. “What’s going on, Rae? Why are you going so hard on that champagne?”

She sighed, setting the glass in one of the drink holders. “I'm discouraged, boo. It’s at the point where I feel like… if things don’t work out with somebody this year, I’mma give up on finding me a black king and go get me one of these white men out here. You know the ones on social media that are being leveled up by black women?”

“Aww, boo,” I crooned.

I was both sympathetic and empathetic to her plight. It wasn’t like I had dudes beating down my door trying to wine, dine, or woo me. I mean, I had dudes who would line up to fuck, but they weren’t interested in comforting me or speaking positivity over my life. Those were two things I needed a lot more than I needed dick. I was no longer one of the girls who used sex as a coping mechanism. I was no longer into fucking the bad thoughts away. I could cope with my problems. I just wanted somebody to hold me and talk sweetly to me while I did it.

Besides, it seemed to me like a lot of men expected women to wine, dine, and woo them. I was raised by Gianni Outlaw. I didn’t have the “woo a nigga” gene. I had the “fuck that nigga” gene.

Any guy that came for me was going to have to be an old school dude, like a I don’t wear capri pants, carry a purse, polish my nails, or sit back while my woman comes out of her wallet dude, a dude who was cut from a cloth that they didn’t seem to make men from anymore.

“You can’t go through the profiles of the men who come to you for matchmaking services and just match yourself to them?” It seemed so logical to me.

“That’s a little unethical, boo.” Her giggle was followed by a small burp.

“Who cares? Show up at his door, and tell him that his date canceled at the last minute, and since you have a customer satisfaction guarantee, you need to make sure he gets the date he was promised.”

Her eyes lit up. “Be fucking for real.”

“I am for real.”

“Anyway.” She waved me off with a dismissive flick of her hand. “How was Iredia? Did you spend your week hopping off and on Iredian dick?”

I knew she expected me to laugh, so I gave a phony chuckle. The truth was I hadn’t slept with any men in Iredia. I’d spent the week with Julianna—talking to her, loving on her, pampering her, putting her first, and having sex with her.Since losing my father, the things that used to do it for me were no longer doing it.

Dropping stacks at boutiques, curating my roster of dick on demand, hopping on and off dicks, clubbing and partying, drinking to excess, those things were no longer the essence of me. They didn’t honor my father’s legacy or what he put into me. Those things wouldn’t make him proud or cause him to smile. And more than that, they didn’t bring me peace. One thing my father’s death had taught me was to make my place where peace could be found.

There was no peace for me in the presence of a man that I only desired as a means of sexual satisfaction. I would only find peace in the presence of a man who gave me soul satisfaction…spirit satisfaction. Anything else, I didn’t have the energy for.

Another thing I had found was that my slow transformation away from Julianna, the party girl, was mine alone. Nobody else could tell that I was different. They didn’t see the change. They treated me like I was the same person I’d always been, and I didn’t know how to stop them from doing that. I didn’t know how to get them to stop inviting me out when they could invite the friend who would appreciate the invitation and not just tolerate it.

I took another small sip of champagne before sitting my glass in a drink holder. “To be honest, I spent the entire week laying on the beach. I didn’t entertain anybody, except my therapist when she called for our scheduled app?—”

“Oh my gosh!” Her exclamation reverberated through the car. I had lost her attention to her phone. “Attendees are already posting pictures of the gala. Xavier Mayhew, the wide receiver from the Portland Pioneers is there. So is Nasir Payne, the music producer. And is that Christian Upton? Brittanie has all the heavy hitters at this event. I really need to leave here with a man tonight.”

“Well, I hope not with any of the men you mentioned because they’re all married.”

She sighed. “Nah. I don’t want anybody’s husband. I want my own man.”

“Fingers crossed.” I did my best to remain supportive and upbeat, even though I really wanted to be at home, snuggled under my blanket on the sofa.

The car pulled to a stop in front of the venue. For roughly four hours, I would need to put on a fake personality and an even faker smile.

* * *

The Mismanaged Angels Fundraiser and Gala was held just north of Downtown Chicago at the Manor Montimiere. It was a gorgeous restyled and reimagined mansion that had once belonged to one of Chicago’s early railroad barons. From what I understood, Dominic Hill became interested in the place at the behest of his wife.

Apparently, Brittanie had coveted the beautiful residence since she was a child, and after finding out that the only way black people had ever garnered entrance to the esteemed estate had been through the back doors and in servitude, her fascination with the place faltered.

Over the years, the mansion changed ownership over and over. At one point, the owners had sectioned off the large home and parceled it out into awkward apartments. When it went on the market for a rock-bottom price, Dominic scooped it up and presented it to Brittanie as a wedding gift. The story was romantic as hell, and the newly renovated manor rose up from the busy Gold Coast neighborhood of Chicago like a fairy castle.

Ravyn was grinning from ear to ear the moment we left the cozy confines of the Mercedes Benz. I wrapped my arms around myself as we hustled toward the door of the venue because the winter temperature was frigid as hell.

Once inside, Ravyn and I dropped our coats off at the coat check and made our way inside the ballroom. I couldn’t deny that the room was lovely. I had attended Brittanie’s fundraiser for the last couple of years. Each year, she went with a different theme, but each year, the room was equally amazing.

This year, she called the theme Forgotten Flora—A Secret Garden . The large ball room had been transformed into an intimate garden setting. Greenery, potted plants, and trees, both large and small, sprouted up. Fairy lights and LED balloons came down from the ceiling, giving the room an ethereal feel. The aromas from the floral arrangements wafted through the air, giving off a heady scent. The round tables were draped with creamy, ivory-colored tablecloths and decorated with gorgeous place settings.

I let out a sigh. I did a 360 degree turn to take in the room. “This is gorgeous.”

“I know. Everywhere my eyes land, I see something beautiful.” Ravyn pointed off to the side of the ballroom. “Should we grab a drink before we find our table?”

“Yes.”

While the soft sounds of nineties R & B serenaded us, Ravyn and I made our way to the bar.

After Ravyn ordered her prerequisite Honey Bee, the bartender turned her attention to me. I leaned into her space.

“Hey. I want to look like I’m having a drink without having a drink.”

She gave me a wink before turning her back on me. I watched her grab a few things and add them to the shaker. She poured them into a glass, and topped everything off with ginger ale.

“Here you go.”

I took a sip and widened my eyes. “Oh, that’s good.” I gave her a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

“Are you flirting with the bartender? I thought you gave up chasing cat.” Ravyn made reference to my young adult days when I identified as a lesbian.

I wasn’t embarrassed about that period of my life, but I also didn’t need to be reminded. It was a tough period when I was still trying to find myself.

“I wasn’t flirting.” I was honest. “And I did give that up. I’m strictly dickly, boo. You know that. Let’s find our table.”

It wasn’t hard to find our table, because, as always, Brittanie had seated me with the family. The round table had seats for ten people, and since there were only two seats left, it seemed like Ravyn and I were the last to arrive. Ravyn took the empty seat next to my eldest sister, Jia, while I went around the table giving hugs to my family members. Once I had greeted and hugged everyone, I took the last empty seat, the one between Ravyn and Nico, the half-brother of Dominic, Dolton, and Dorien.

“Hey, Nico,” I told him as I dropped into my chair.

He gave me an almost smile. I mean, the right side of his mouth lifted slightly.

“What’s good, Julianna?” His eyes canvassed the entire area around us.

That move reminded me of my father. He was the type who definitely kept his head on a swivel and constantly canvassed the area, keeping an eye out for the possibility of a situation.

“You met my sister before, right? Dominique?”

I wanted to be irritated by the fact that Briscoe Hill had insisted on naming all of his children with names so similar, but when I thought of my own father with his, Jia, Jianna, Julianna madness, I didn’t really have room to judge anybody else. Maybe that was just something they did in their circle. Whatever the case, I was glad that Dominique insisted that we call her by her nickname, which was Mique. That was a name that I could remember.

I’d met her before briefly a few times. From what I understood, the Hill brothers that I’d grown up with had only recently discovered that Dominique existed, so bringing her into the fold and building relationships was taking time.

I nodded before leaning around Nico. “Hey, girl.”

I gave her a smile because she always looked so damn mean. She was a beautiful girl, just as all of Briscoe’s children were attractive, but she wasn’t going to let you catch her without a frown or a scowl on her face.

“Hey.” She gave me an “almost” smile that was practically identical to Nico’s.

I didn’t have time for the angst of Hill family members. I had my own angst to deal with. I sat back in my chair and pretended to listen to the conversations going on around me.

“I’m going to refill my drink and mingle,” Ravyn whispered close to my ear before standing from the table.

I decided to go to the restroom so I wouldn’t have to get up during the presentations.

The restroom was clean and recently remodeled. I made quick work of using the facilities, washed my hands, dried them, and used the paper towel to open the door. I looked back to toss the paper towel in the trash before clearing the doorway. When I turned back around, both Langston and Dolton were standing in front of me.

“Hey,” I mumbled. I tried to walk around them when Langston caught my arm lightly.

“Aye, Short Cake, come here for a minute.” He called me by the nickname he’d given me when he came into my life all those years ago.

I allowed myself to be dragged along to a less populated area of the lobby by Langston. When we finally came to a stop, I looked up at both men, wondering why my sisters’ husbands were trying to get me alone.

“Listen, mama.” That was Langston. “We’re trying to figure out what you’re on.”

That caused me to twist my face up in confusion. I opened my mouth to respond, but Dolton jumped in before I could speak.

“What he’s trying to say…” He eyed Langston in exasperation. “…is that we’re worried about you.”

“Right.” Langston jumped back into the conversation. “We know you’re a grown woman and shit. We know you have your own life, but we can’t help but to wonder where the fuck you been.”

Again, my eyebrows slammed together in a frown. Langston had been my brother-in-law forever. He married Jia when I was still in elementary. He always had one foot in the streets and had the reputation to prove it. He had been handling me the exact same way since I was little, and it never bothered me. Actually, I loved Langston and looked at him in almost the same way that I would look at a biological brother. But for some reason, in that moment, his words were like sandpaper rubbing against an open wound.

Dolton, who was a pediatric surgeon by trade and had spent years developing his bedside manner, read the room. He saw through the frown on my face and pulled me into a tight hug.

“What?” Langston questioned. “What the fuck did I say?”

“You’re cool,” Dolton assured him, continuing to hold me close.

Langston huffed out a sigh. “All I was trying to say was that we miss your little short ass.” He patted my shoulder roughly. “On Thanksgiving, you cut out early. Then on Christmas, you were a no show. That kind of shit worries Jia and me. We feel like you’re pulling away from the family when all we want to do is close ranks. We can’t close ranks with you on the outside, Short Cake.” He sighed again. “Gianni left the responsibility of keeping his girls safe on Dolton and me. I can’t keep you safe when I don’t know where you’re at… or where your head’s at?”

“My head is all over the place,” I admitted. “I’m still hurting. I miss my daddy every single day. There is not one day that I can get through without thinking of him, wanting him, and missing him. It’s hard, Langston. I spend most of my time trying to keep my head above water. Jia and Jianna have you and Dolton. Do you know who I have?”

Langston’s face was soft. Well, as soft as it could be. “You have us. You have your sisters, your brothers, your nephews and nieces… ”

“Not in the same way.” I took a deep breath and removed myself from Dolton’s embrace, even though it was so comforting. “Sometimes being around you guys makes me feel lonelier.”

My voice was just above a whisper. I had never said that out loud. “For three long years, I’ve kept that fact to myself and just thugged it out. But I’m tired, Langston. I’m tired of faking and fronting. Seeing you all be happy makes my heart sing. I love that my sisters have found love, but it does remind me that I haven’t.”

“Who the fuck knew you were looking for love?”

There went Langston being Langston again.

“Shit, I thought you was out here sticking and moving, not trying to be tied down by no bitches or no niggas.”

“I get it.” Dolton’s expression was thoughtful. “I definitely remember feeling… some kind of way when Dominic and Dorien had wives and I was still single. I mean, I didn’t really want a wife, but them being so happily coupled up did make it glaringly obvious to me that I didn’t have what they had. They would be going to the crib to be with their families, and I would be going to the crib to be with the silence.”

I wrapped my arms around Dolton’s middle and hugged him because he had actually put into words my exact feelings. He patted my back gently while the three of us stood there in silence.

“What can I do, Short Cake? I would turn the fucking world upside down for the Outlaw girls. You standing here in front of me with this look on your face and these tears in your eyes. My wife moping around the fucking house because she don’t know what’s going on with her baby sister. What can I do? How can we fix this?”

Before I could respond, Langston spoke again.

“You want me to… arrange something for you? Like how Gianni did Jia and me? How he tried to do Jianna?”

A bark of laughter erupted from Dolton. “An arranged marriage? You don’t really want an arranged marriage, do you, Juli?”

“Shit. You ain’t gotta marry the nigga. Maybe y’all can just arrange companionship.”

Since I could tell that Langston was sincere, I didn’t act up behind his question.

“Nah, I’m good on arranged companionship . I definitely don’t want that.”

“You wanna get married, Short Cake? You want a committed relationship?”

“I just want to not be lonely every minute of the day,” I whispered into the wind.

“Tell me what you want me to do. I’ll start vetting niggas tomorrow.” Langston had that determined look on his face.

“Look, as her brother-in-law, I’ve gotta speak up.” Dolton turned to me. “If you’re even considering this, we need to start with a whole new group of candidates. Because the motherfuckers that Gianni had lined up for Jianna… absolutely fucking not.”

“Short Cake?”

“I don’t know, Langston.” The conversation had managed to zap the little bit of energy I was trying to save for the fundraiser. “Let me think about it.”

If this night was indicative of how the year was going to go, I already knew that I could throw the whole damn thing in the garbage.

* * *