Quincy
We knocked on Nikki's door for the third time, the sound echoing down the empty hallway with no answer.
We had overslept way past our intended time to wake up.
Niecy had finally fallen asleep after tossing and turning for a while, her body restless against mine, and I was in a coma from the mix of post-sex fatigue and stuffed French toast-it is.
I was certain Nikki was either still in a deep sleep behind that door or had already gotten a head start on joining the event for the day.
"I'm sure we'll see her downstairs. We should go," I suggested, moving toward the elevators.
Niecy hesitated, her eyes lingering on the door, but followed.
I pushed the down button and stood back, looking at my wife who was deep in thought, her brow furrowed and her lower lip caught between her teeth.
"Why didn't you feel comfortable telling her the truth?" I asked, as the elevator dinged its arrival.
"I don't know. I guess I didn't want that to change how she saw me. I should probably just tell her, huh?"
"I would. You don't want her finding out any other way."
A lot of people didn't know what their favorite authors looked like, especially if they weren't on social media like that.
Niecy had maintained an air of mystery about her when it came to her writing career, writing under the pen name D.
Miller. A lot of her readers even assumed she was a man.
But all it took was a Google search for her picture to pop up from one of her many book signings.
"You're right. I'll try to get a private moment and tell her today," she said, stepping onto the elevator.
We made our way across the street, through the crowded lobby, past the congested lines, and found our way to the ballroom holding the keynote speaker event.
We took our seats just as Jahquel J, Wahida Clark, Aubree Pynn, and Ladii Nesha walked onto the stage to a thunderous applause.
I was thankful I wasn't being quizzed on their discussion because my mind wasn't present in that room, not even in the same building.
It was still back in our hotel, giving me a highlight reel of all the erotic things I'd been involved in just a few hours earlier.
It was particularly fond of the heat in Nikki's eyes when she ate my wife's pussy, that fierce concentration, the way her tongue moved with purpose like she was starving and Niecy was the only thing on the menu.
It was intoxicating to witness, the kind of thing that branded itself on your memory.
Holding Niecy as they rubbed their clits together was another flashback my mind wouldn't stop showing me, the slick friction, the sounds they made, the way their bodies moved together.
Another applause erupted through the crowd and I clapped along out of pure conditioning, my hands meeting while my head stayed elsewhere, but I had no idea what I was applauding.
I could tell Niecy was just as distracted by her thoughts as I was, biting her lip raw and taking sips from her Stanley every couple minutes.
I knew when my wife was anxious. She did a terrible job at trying to conceal it, all her emotions written across her face in permanent marker.
I knew she was sitting there playing the conversation over in her head, rehearsing the words, the pauses, the possible reactions, about how she was going to come clean to Nikki about being the author of ‘Blue Like Mourning’.
I admired Niecy's humble spirit and could understand that Nikki knowing who she was could change how she saw her, could put her on a pedestal or behind a glass wall.
However, I had far more years of experience with women than Niecy, and I learned a long time ago to just be fucking honest. Because one, women somehow find out everything anyway, the universe conspiring to reveal secrets at the worst possible moment, and two, a clear conscience is priceless, worth more than any temporary comfort a lie might buy you.
My wife didn't make a habit of lying, so that's when I knew this wasn't just a kinky sex fantasy she wanted to see through.
She cared about what Nikki thought about her and that scared me.
Not because I was jealous, but because I knew how easily a woman could break your heart.
When the keynote event was over, Niecy let me know there were a couple more authors she wanted to visit before we headed back to the hotel to pack up for our evening flight back home.
Making our way through the sea of people trying to lug around totes full of books, I could tell Niecy was keeping her eye out for Nikki, her head swiveling at every flash of a woman with locs.
I couldn't lie, I was too. I was hoping we could at least say a proper goodbye, exchange numbers and make promises about keeping in touch.
But she was nowhere to be found. Luckily, we ran into Raina and Gina as we were making our way back to the hotel, their faces familiar in the sea of strangers.
"There you guys are!"
Niecy and I looked up at the same time to see both Raina and Gina hitting a jog to catch up to us crossing at the green light.
"Where have y'all been all day?" Gina asked, her voice carrying over the street noise.
"We slept in and went to the keynote event. Where's Nikki?" Niecy couldn't help but ask, the question tumbling out before she could stop it, noticing she wasn't with them like we had suspected, like we had hoped.
"Oh, she came to our room this morning and told us she was checking out early and skipping the event today," she said, the words casual, almost careless. "She said she wasn't feeling well."
"Oh," Niecy and I accidentally said in unison.
"Yeah, I think she went a little too hard last night, and I'm sure everything with her boss probably didn't help," Raina added, shrugging like it was nothing, like she hadn't just confirmed our unspoken disappointment.
"Right," Niecy said, the sadness in her voice palpable, a weight settling over her shoulders, pulling her posture down.
The women exchanged numbers and promised to keep in touch, even made plans to start getting things in order for next year's festival.
She was putting on a good act but I was watching my wife's heart break in real time.
It was an energy I'd never seen on her before, this particular flavor of disappointment, and I hated it, hated that I couldn't fix it.
As special as Nikki was and as magical as last night had been, it made me question if it was worth it, if the temporary high was worth this crash.
All I knew was that we were leaving Atlanta ghosted and flying back to Detroit changed in a way that neither of us knew how to navigate.