Twenty
TWENTY
Noble
P roductive meetings and great workouts always made me feel better. I started my day with both. As expected, my “fresh perspective” was indeed a code word for younger . As one of the youngest members, I’d been tasked with joining the committee for the next event and attracting more potential board members my age. I was up for the challenge. The first person I thought about asking was Ty. It would be a good look for him too.
I spent the afternoon at the agency, getting to know the leadership and staff, and even met a few of the young people they helped.
Brayden, a lanky thirteen-year-old with twists and a slight dusting of facial hair was one of the first young men I met. His large brown eyes didn’t conceal the grief he grappled with from losing his parents in a car accident. A few minutes with him reminded me of the lonely boy I’d once been, solidifying my desire to do as much as I could for this organization and kids like him. I no longer cared if being on this board was a good look or not.
As I left Chosen Alliance that evening, my mind shifted to Holland. She hadn’t come to me the past few nights. When I checked in on her, she was still upset, but kept to herself. I didn’t want to impose, but I needed to make sure she was okay.
In my home office, I checked my emails to see if there were any responses to my recent job interviews. That didn’t take my mind off Holland so I texted her.
Me: Hey
Holland: Hi Noble.
I was glad she responded right away.
I smiled, of course. It had become my immediate reaction when it came to Holland.
Me: Are you okay?
Holland: I’ve had much better days.
Me: How about a great distraction?
Holland: Lol. Like what?
Me: Just say yes or no.
Holland: Your house or mine?
Me: Mine.
Holland: Be right there. Thanks, Noble.
I pumped my fist like a kid conquering the next level in his favorite video game. After shutting down my computer, I strutted out of my home office and headed downstairs to get ready for Holland’s arrival.
I plopped on my leather couch, grabbed the remote, and pointed it at the TV. It still felt odd being home in the middle of the day on a weekday, but I was finally feeling better about my situation. I’d have to give Holland credit for that. She’d become the brightest part of my days. It was time for me to return the favor.
The doorbell rang and I hopped up.
“Hey!” I pushed the door open. She didn’t look like she was feeling any better. “Come on in.”
“Hey, Noble.” Her quiet response made her accent deeper.
“You made any more progress today?” I asked, leading the way to the kitchen. “Something to drink?” I inquired, tossing the words over my shoulder.
“Yeah. Packed up most of my room and then swept and mopped all the empty rooms now that the furniture is gone. The place still needs a paint job. The real estate agent is coming tomorrow. Thanks to you, I’m ahead of schedule.” Holland sucked in a breath and exhaled with a sigh. “What do you have to drink?”
I halted. “That sounds like you may need something stronger than soda.”
“Humph!” Holland released a small chuckle.
I pivoted. “I’ve got you covered.” Heading back to the living room, I pulled open my cellarette. Scanning the shelves, I announced the options. “It’s five p.m. somewhere. How strong do you want to get? I’ve got scotch, wine, rum…”
“A glass of wine would be nice.”
“Red? White?”
Holland twisted her lips and looked up. “Do you have any chocolate?”
“Yep.”
“Then I’ll take red. Got a good Cab in there?”
“Cabernet and Snickers coming up.”
Holland fell over laughing. “What a fancy combination.”
I pulled a bottle and glasses from the cabinet and carried them to the kitchen. Holland climbed onto one of the stools at the island. On the opposite side, I took two Snickers out of the fridge and, just for the heck of it, cut them into bite-size pieces and plated them. I filled our glasses hallway and pushed the combo in front of Holland. “Voila!”
Holland held her glass in the air. I delicately tapped mine against hers, and she laughed. Together, we said, “Cheers.”
“Are you this luxurious with all your lady friends?” Holland raised her brows in mock amazement.
“Oh. It gets better. Back when I got my very first apartment. I had just started dating this girl. My company wasn’t making enough money for me to get paid yet, so I barely had two nickels to rub together, but I knew I had to do something for Valentine’s Day. Dinner at a nice restaurant was not in my nonexistent budget. The only furniture I had besides a bed was a folding table and two chairs. I went to the dollar store and grabbed anything I could find for a floor picnic. Ha! We had place mats, wine glasses filled with beer, and Chinese food. I thought it was pretty cool.” I puffed my chest out.
“What did she say?” Holland grinned behind her glass.
“She thought it was creative . Needless to say, the relationship didn’t last.”
“Aw,” Holland chuckled. “But that was so cute. I would have given you an A for effort.”
“Thanks. I was proud of my struggle picnic,” I said, popping a piece of Snickers in my mouth.
Holland’s laughter faded, and sadness filled her eyes again. Despite her solemn expression, she was still beautiful. I watched her work her jaw around the chocolate and couldn’t help but think about being in bed with her again. I decided to figure out how to keep seeing Holland.
I’d never been to Florence or Charleston but didn’t mind going. It would be even better if she stayed in New York.
“Feeling any better today?” I said, pouring more wine into my glass.
Holland cupped her glass with both hands, like she was holding a mug filled with cocoa instead of a glass of wine. She set her eyes on the countertop and sighed. Then she lifted her head and grunted. “I’m not sure.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Holland took a long sip, nearly finishing her crimson elixir. “I’m finding out way more about my past than I imagined, and it’s not all good.”
I rounded the island and sat closer to her on one of the stools. “Families are never perfect.”
“My mother was here over the weekend.”
“Oh. All the way from South Carolina? That’s cool.”
“Is it?” Holland gnawed on her bottom lip.
“Oh?” I sat up straight, giving her my full attention.
Holland dragged in a breath. “I’m discovering things about her that I never knew. I feel blindsided and betrayed.” Holland blinked rapidly and took a long sip of her wine. She carefully placed the glass back on the countertop and a single tear slid down her beautiful face. She wiped it away and cleared her throat. “Sorry.”
“No apology necessary. If it helps any, I have a pretty difficult relationship with my dad too.”
“Yeah?” Her eyes held pity, and her voice was soft.
Taking a breath, I contemplated whether or not I should share the darkest part of my past. Somehow, I knew I could.
“During my sophomore year in high school, he left us. Cheated on my mom. When she refused to take him back, he started drinking. He’d been a decent father up until that point, but the drinking changed everything. He stopped coming around and when he did, he’d be drunk and would stand in front of the house, yelling for me and my mother to come out. He moved in with the woman he’d cheated with and didn’t help us financially. My mother was fighting cancer while dealing with my dad’s infidelity, but never told us. By my senior year in high school, he had left and she could no longer hide her sickness. She spent the next few years in and out of treatment and was gone by the time I started grad school. I was alone and Dad got worse.”
Holland’s gasp was barely audible. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” Gently, she placed her soft hand over mine and a warm flame inched up my arm, feeling more comforting than sensual.
My father abandoned me twice. First with his infidelity. Second, when he wasn’t there for me after losing Mom. I used to be mad at Tanya, but realized it wasn’t entirely her fault. She was the one keeping me updated about Dad all these years. His drinking had been a thorn in their marriage since day one.
No one knew my story besides Ty and Tim. Now Holland did. I wanted her to know everything about me. And I wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone when it came to family trauma and what it felt like to be alone.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of cancer did she have?”
“She died of breast cancer and a broken heart. She only told us when she knew she could no longer beat it. The shock of finding out just when we were about to lose her was the hardest thing I ever lived through.”
A familiar tightening balled in my belly. I exhaled slow and steady, the way my old therapist told me to.
Mom’s death deepened the fault line between me and my dad, permanently setting our relationship on shaky ground. Despite marrying Tanya, he numbed his sorrows with alcohol. I numbed mine by filling every moment with work and college studies, leaving minimal time to dwell on the feeling that I’d lost both parents. Leftover anger warmed my chest. My jaw was set so tightly it hurt. I reminded myself to breathe again.
I looked into Holland’s eyes, moist and soft with pity. She drew her mouth downward into a frown. There was something familiar about the way sadness darkened her eyes before she cast them to the floor. “Sorry to hear that,” she said. Holland knew this pain personally.
“I found pictures of my mom.” After a few silent moments, she added, “Learning so much made me curious about my dad. I’d love to find some information about him too.”
What was worse? Being strangers with the dad you knew all your life, or never knowing your father at all?
“Family.” I laughed to myself, still surprised about revealing some of my most painful memories to a woman I had known for less than a month.
Silence entered the conversation again, but it didn’t feel awkward or sully the atmosphere with anxiety. With her hand over mine, it was comforting.
I didn’t want to push Holland if she didn’t feel like talking. Her head hung low. I watched her shove the chocolate around on the plate, wishing I could somehow erase the things that caused her pain.
“Yeah. Family,” she said after a long while—her words drenched in sarcasm and melancholy.
I felt that deep in my soul and let it marinate.
When enough discomfort had passed, I said, “You’ve been working nonstop since you’ve been here, only stopping to shop and go to the gala.” I got off the stool and stepped closer to her. “It’s time for a reprieve. That’s why I called. Let me take you out. It’s not a date. It’s two people needing a break, getting out, and leaving the parts of life that suck behind for just a while.”
Holland’s eyes roamed as she pondered my suggestion. “I could use a break.” Her small smile knocked on the door of my heart.
“Let’s go,” I said, grabbing her hand and leading her to the car before she changed her mind.
Inside, I selected a playlist on my phone with a smooth vibe. Holland exhaled. Her shoulders lowered and she sat back. Both of us bobbed to the beat floating from the speakers.
“This is Isaiah Falls, right?”
I nodded. “He’s got a chill vibe.”
“Yeah. I like his music.”
“Who else do you like?” I wanted to know everything about her.
“Besides old school?” She tilted her head, tapping her chin as she thought. “I like Lucky Daye, Muni Long, Drake, and of course, Beyoncé. Throw in a little bit of Taylor Swift, here and there.”
“You’re a Swiftie?” I asked, struggling to keep my eyes on the road instead of her.
Holland giggled and it sounded better than the music.
“Not exactly. Nor am I part of the BeyHive, but I like some of their songs. Growing up in the church, I also listen to a lot of gospel. Love me some Tasha Cobbs and Koryn Hawthorne.”
“Okay. Those are all good. I have to admit, I haven’t been to church much since my mother passed.”
“Hmm. I may have to drag you with me one Sunday.”
“I’m cool with that,” I agreed, unable to mask the smile that eased across my face. The idea of any kind of plans with Holland kept me hopeful. I knew she was here temporarily, but the more time I spent with her, the more I wanted her to stay.
“What about you?” she asked, breaking through my thoughts of her.
“Well, you already know I love old school too. Some of the artists you named are cool. I’ll add Frank Ocean and Chase Shakur to your list, and I like vibing to jazz.”
“We have an amazing jazz restaurant back home. You’d love it. The music is great, and the food?” Holland groaned and rolled her eyes toward the roof. “It’s delicious.”
“But is it better than mine?” I winked.
“I can’t lie. You’ve got skills in the kitchen.”
“Outside the kitchen too.” I smirked, knowing she would blush.
As anticipated, redness blossomed across Holland’s pretty face. She closed her eyes and shook her head.
“You’re bad.” Holland swatted my arm.
“Oh so bad, baby!”
Holland threw her head back and laughed. The sound riffed through the air like smooth jazz. I held the wheel with both hands to keep from crashing. The sexy lines of her neck begged for me to kiss her there. Her sound, scent, and gestures could be bottled and sold.
“Hrs & Hrs” by Muni Long came on and Holland cranked up the volume. “I love this song!” She crooned into her fist like she was holding a microphone.
To my delight and surprise, she had a beautiful voice—a songbird. As if I needed another reason to fall for her. Holland sang the entire song and I wished it would never end.
I’d had my pick of women over the years. All of them were extremely attractive. But none of them gripped me the way Holland had. It wasn’t just the sway of her hips, the natural sexy fullness of her breasts, her pretty face, or the full head of wild hair that I enjoyed running my fingers through. There was a depth to her. An inner beauty that resonated from her—a warmth that I wanted to sink into. When Holland looked at me, I felt like I was the only person in her world—like I was soaking in her attention. I never knew I longed for such a thing.
We continued on the musical tip, singing, laughing, and swapping favorites as routine traffic on the Belt Parkway gave me time to enjoy her. Holland passed her imaginary microphone for duets with artists like Drake. I hadn’t had fun like this with a woman in years. I pointed out landmarks and the lines separating the boroughs.
“Queens looks different than Brooklyn,” she said, noticing the changing landscapes.
Minutes later, I pulled up in front of the St. Albans Greatest mural on Linden Boulevard in St. Albans.
“This is amazing!” Holland said, hopping out the second I finished parking. “Can we take pictures?” She handed me her phone before I had a chance to answer.
With big toothy smiles, Holland posed in front of Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, James Brown, and others. I snapped picture after picture, like she was a supermodel in a magazine photoshoot, enticed by the way she maneuvered in front of the images.
“Come take some with me.” She waved me over, taking the phone. “Smile!” she said, snapping selfies.
She took a few with the two of us smiling and holding up two fingers, then made a silly face. Teasing, I raised a brow at her silliness. She snapped those too then poked me with her elbow.
“Come on,” she chided. “You have to make a face too.”
“No, I don’t.” I waved her off.
“Mr. CEO too cool for funny face pics?”
I twisted my lips at her. She challenged me with those pretty eyes.
“It will be just between you and me, I promise.” Holland pouted and dammit, I obliged.
“Just one!”
I crossed my eyes and stuck out my tongue. Cackling, Holland tilted her head, scrunched her nose like she smelled something foul, and then snapped a bunch of shots.
“That’s it. I’m done.” I stepped aside.
Holland opened her photos, swiped through the pictures and bent over laughing.
“Let me see.” She turned the phone to me and swiped. I had to admit the pictures were pretty funny. Not many women could have gotten me to do that. I was learning that for Holland, I’d do almost anything.
“Ever heard of A Tribe Called Quest?”
“Of course. I’m an old-school-music lover.”
We rode down Linden Boulevard to 192nd Street to see the A Tribe Called Quest mural painted on the side of the cleaners. Together, we sang the chorus of “Can I Kick It?” while taking selfies next to the artists’ faces on the wall.
The light returned to Holland’s sad eyes. The frown she’d been sporting was now a smile that showcased her pearly white teeth.
Back in the car, I cruised through my old neighborhood, showing her the places I frequented growing up. Told her how close-knit our blue-collar community used to be, and how doctors, teachers, bus drivers, and those who struggled to make ends meet like my family all blended together seamlessly.
I swung a left off Linden Boulevard, maneuvered through the side streets, and slowed as I passed the skinny duplex we lived in before betrayal and heartbreak slithered in like a snake in the night and desecrated our happy home. My father lived there now, having moved in with his new wife when I decided not to return to Queens after I had graduated. It no longer felt like home.
I slowed as I passed, seeing his pickup was in the driveway. Tanya’s car was parked behind his.
“Who lived here?”
“I did.” I didn’t bother saying that Dad was there now. It wasn’t the time to go into those details.
Holland studied the home. “Cool.”
We made one more stop before heading back. A few blocks away, I pulled in front of a bodega with a few teens with their pants hanging below their waists decorating the storefront.
“Come inside with me,” I said before getting out and rounding the car. I opened her door and reached for her smooth, soft hand, and then led her inside the store.
“What! Look-at-whah-the-cat-drug-in,” Oscar practically yelled in a thick Puerto Rican accent, smashing all of his words together. Growing up, the neighborhood kids called him Papi.
Coming down off his stool behind the counter, Papi limped toward me with wide open arms. Age slowed his gait, tinted his hair gray, and creased the lines around his lips and eyes.
“What’s up, Papi?”
His long arms swallowed me in a fatherly embrace.
“Long time, Noble. Long time.” Papi looked over at Holland and grinned. “And who’s this pretty lady?”
“My friend ,” I said, stressing the word friend . “Holland.”
Smiling, Holland held out her hand, “Nice to meet—”
Before she could finish, Papi pulled her in for a hug. “A friend of my boy Noble is a friend of mine,” he said with a wide grin. “He be nice to you? If not, I beat him up.” Papi held up his fists then wrapped his strong arm around my neck to fake-choke me.
“He’s been really nice,” she said with a smile. “I’ll let you know if he needs some straightening out.”
Papi roared. “Oh! I like this one.” His belly shook when he laughed. “We got your drink over here.” Papi pointed to one of the refrigerators filled with Push Beverages. I didn’t have the emotional capacity yet to explain to him that I wasn’t with the company anymore. “The young ones love it,” he continued. “They know it’s yours.” Papi looked at Holland. “Noble used to work here. Sure did,” he added, as if she’d questioned the validity of his statement. “Stocked shelves, ran the register. Never had to run him out for stealing like those other knuckleheads,” he said with a deep nod.
“Oh, he was a good one, huh?” Holland said, looking at me with a sideways smile.
“It’s great to see you, Papi. We need to head back to Brooklyn though,” I said, cutting the visit short before Papi launched into stories about me being popular with the girls in the neighborhood.
He’d taken an interest in keeping me off the streets like the other knuckleheads, as he called them. Said he saw something in me. Knew I was going to make it big.
“Leaving so soon?” Papi frowned. “Don’t take so long to visit next time.”
“I won’t,” I said, guiding Holland out by the small of her back.
“Nice meeting you,” Holland said, waving.
“Let me know if you need me to punch him out. Ha!” Papi’s laugh bellowed, reaching the aged ceiling.
We said our final goodbyes as he walked us to the car parked in front of the store.
“Ready to head back?”
“Sure. This was great,” Holland said. “I feel like I’m getting to see the real New York. My cousin Amy would be proud.”
Traffic on the Belt Parkway was predictably heavy on the way back to Brooklyn, giving me more time with Holland. Inspired by our mini music session while visiting the A Tribe Called Quest mural, Holland became the self-proclaimed car DJ, sending us down old-school memory lane.
“You know this one?” Holland played “The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly),” by Missy Elliott.
“Ha! Of course. Let that one play.” I tapped the rhythm into the steering wheel.
Holland sang every word, chair dancing and snapping her fingers. She closed her eyes when hitting the higher notes, and shimmied to the beat. I enjoyed the show and Holland’s rich, soulful voice. The raspy quality was sexy. She had the kind of voice that got inside of you and made you feel things.
“You’ve got quite a voice there.”
Holland stopped singing, and blushed. “Thanks.”
“Oh, don’t get shy on me now.”
“Not shy, dude. The song is over,” she chuckled.
“Then sing something else for me.”
Holland looked at me incredulously. “Like what?”
“Hold on. Let me think.” I wanted to challenge her. “Mm. How about ‘Hello’ by Adele.”
“That’s one of my favorite songs. It’s so beautiful and incredibly sad.”
“So. Let’s hear it.”
Holland turned her body toward me. “You really want me to sing?”
“Yep.”
She huffed. “All right. I sang in the choir back home at my church.” She cleared her throat and then moaned the first few chords. Even her moans were soulful and perfect. Holland closed her eyes and sang the first verse, increasing the intensity. She belted out the chorus, her voice powerful and deep.
“Holy shit!” My words surprised me. I moved my head to the beat she snapped with her fingers. I wanted to close my eyes and feel every note, but I was driving. She gave me another thing to like about her.
Holland kept her eyes closed seconds after she finished her last harrowing note. She brought every emotion in the lyrics to life, reminding me of what heartbreak felt like. I took a deep breath.
“Whoa! That was…” I couldn’t think of an adjective that would do her justice. I settled on “Incredible.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“If you were my girl, you’d have to sing to me all the time. Like, ‘Breakfast is ready, baby,’” I said in my worst possible voice, which was basically my true singing voice.
Holland laughed, slapping my arm playfully. “You’re so silly.”
“I’m so serious. Amazing. Just amazing. I guess singing runs in your blood.”
“I guess it does.” I wanted to kiss her right on her flushed cheek.
“You hungry? I know this amazing Italian restaurant over in Sheepshead Bay. New York has the best Italian restaurants.”
“I wish I could. I have something I should handle this evening.”
“Oh.” Damn. I wasn’t ready for our time together to end.
“Noble?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for this.” Her voice was calm. Serious. “It was just what I needed. You make New York feel cozy and not so big and scary.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I needed it too. I’ll be around for the rest of the night if you need anything.”
I dreaded pulling up in front of our houses. Holland kissed my cheek, thanked me again, and headed inside her house. I missed her immediately.