Chapter 11
Stassi stood off to the side. Somehow, seeing Demi holding Lauren’s hand, doting over her so tenderly, made Stassi feel like she was complicit in a conspiracy against Charlie.
She couldn’t say that they were doing anything wrong.
Their pain, this day, just felt like theirs.
Like it was one they would mark on their calendars like a wedding anniversary—this death date was reserved for them.
They presented like family, and she didn’t blame them for that, but it was awkward.
She was straddling a fence, and it didn’t feel good.
Her eyes landed on Day, and her stomach sank when she saw Kiara Da’vi discreetly wrap her pinky finger around his.
He gave her a hug and then whispered something in her ear before the popular singer moved along.
The body language was telling, and Stassi couldn’t unsee it.
He’s definitely fucking that bitch, Stassi thought.
This wasn’t the time and place to address it.
In fact, she wasn’t sure she had any cause to address it.
He wasn’t her man, but Stassi made a mental note.
Day was too famous and too used to his routine of rotating women.
She didn’t have time or the desire to play games.
She could feel herself becoming disinterested, just off the assumption that he was involved elsewhere.
The last thing she needed was to have her business blasted all over the blogs again.
Kiara was a young artist. She lived for internet clout.
Stassi preferred to keep her happenings private, especially anything concerning Day.
He was too high profile, and too many women lusted after him.
As soon as she posted any indication that he could possibly be on her roster, the hens would come pecking.
There was nothing that could humble a bitch more than posting a nigga on social media.
She had a feeling that if the world ever got wind of whatever it was they called themselves doing, that hoes would come out the woodwork to burst her bubble.
For that reason alone, Stassi kept her distance.
There were too many relevant faces at this funeral, and she was determined to retain a level of privacy.
When the service was over, Lauren approached. Stassi was taken completely by surprise when Lauren hugged her tightly.
“Thank you so much. I will never be able to repay you for the kindness you’ve shown me this week. You didn’t owe me this. You did a beautiful job for my baby,” Lauren said. She was still so emotional that her nose ran. Lauren sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.
“You don’t need to thank me. I’m glad it met your expectations,” Stassi replied.
“You’re welcome to come back to the house for the repass. The least I can do is feed you,” Lauren offered.
“I’m sorry, I really do have somewhere I need to be, but I’ve made sure everything at your house is prepared. The caterer, the housekeeper…all that. You and your family won’t have to worry about anything for a few days.”
“We should get back,” Demi said.
Stassi’s eyes searched the crowd for Day only to find him climbing into the back of an SUV behind Kiara.
She scoffed. One minute, he was begging on stage for her time, the next, he was entertaining someone else. One thing was for certain, she wasn’t chasing him, and she wasn’t going to compete for his time. She believed in letting a nigga choose. She would react accordingly.
She sighed and made her way back to her car.
Demi and Lauren were so well respected that there were over a thousand people in attendance.
The number of cars coming in and out of the church was ridiculous, and the one-road cemetery was even worse.
She climbed into her car and dialed Charlie’s number.
The phone rang through her blue tooth as she pulled into the line of traffic.
She saw the fire truck and one police car ahead.
“Thank God Nyair pulled some strings to help with this traffic.”
When she saw him, their eyes connected instantly, and she hit her brakes abruptly. She wasn’t quite sure why or how the smile formed on her face, but the one he returned made her giddy. He walked over to the car, and she rolled down her window.
“Grayson, right?”
“She remembers,” he said as he motioned for the cars behind her to go around.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“The stations work in the community with the local churches when high-profile funerals take place. Police presence, first responders. It’s a lot of people out here.
Traffic and roads are bad. Plus, I guess this group is known for a level of violence.
Rappers or something, so having a presence stops one funeral from turning into two,” Grayson explained.
“They aren’t violent. Just Black men making money,” she said.
“Were you close to the little boy they buried today?” he asked. “My condolences on your loss.”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t. I used to work for his mom. Just felt appropriate to pay my respects. It hits differently when it’s a kid, you know?”
“I’m very fortunate to not know what that feels like,” he answered grimly.
“You don’t have kids?” she asked.
“I do. Proud dad to a 16-year-old son,” Grayson said.
“Oh!” Stassi said in surprise. He looked damn good. She hadn’t expected him to have a full-blown teenager.
“I was a high school senior. Slipped up. Became a dad early. He’s the best thing that could have happened to me, though,” Grayson replied. His pride shone brightly as he spoke about his child.
The driver behind Stassi blew his horn, leaning on it impatiently.
“Okay, damn!” Stassi shouted as she peeked in her rearview mirror.
“Aye, my man, relax on the horn. Go around!” Grayson shouted sternly. “I guess this isn’t the time or place for life stories.” He chuckled, and Stassi smiled.
“I’m sorry. I’m distracting you. I’ll let you get back to it,” she said.
He leaned down into her window so that they were eye to eye. “Can I take you out, Stassi?”
It was so random and sporadic that Stassi’s mouth fell open and nothing came out.
She had just accepted a car from Day. She knew it didn’t mean they were together. Clearly, they weren’t. He had left the funeral with someone else, but she didn’t want to be messy. She needed a little clarity from Day before she answered this question.
The next car honked at her.
“Okay, okay,” she said. She pulled out her phone and handed it to him. “Put your number in.”
“Is that a yes?” Grayson asked.
“It’s an ‘I’ma let the fine firefighter call me so I can get to know him.’”
He entered his phone number and pressed send so that he had hers as well. He tapped the side of her car and she put it in drive.
“Don’t wait too long to call. Girls hate waiting to see if a man is really interested.”
She pulled away, and within seconds, her phone rang.
She answered with a smile. “Can’t call too soon either, sir. You don’t want to look thirsty.”
“I’m a grown-ass man. When a woman crosses my mind, I call. Actually, I prefer to pull up, but I ain’t been invited yet. I ain’t worried about looking thirsty. I am very interested, though, Stassi.”
“Never knew I was so captivating,” she joked.
“Somehow, I think you know better,” he replied with a laugh. “I got to get back to work, but I’ma hit you up later.”
“Enjoy your day, Grayson.”
“Today was the hardest day of my life,” Lauren said as she sat across from Demi at the dining room table.
Everyone was gone. Just like every other funeral, after the official burial, the others went back to their lives.
Their regularly scheduled programs continued while the people closest to the deceased were left to endure.
“I’m just glad it’s over,” Demi stated. “All those fucking people. My skin is crawling.” Demi had shaken so many hands and received so many hugs that he felt like he was infected.
His OCD was working in overdrive, and his mind was exhausted.
“Feels like I been running uphill all week. A nigga can’t even catch his breath. I’m mentally exhausted.”
“I know,” Lauren whispered.
“What happens now, Lo?” Demi asked.
He sat tilted back in the chair; legs open wide, handsome, and solemn as folded hands rested on his abdomen. Stress was his most consistent accessory these days.
“You’re looking to me for answers?” she scoffed. “I don’t know, Demi. How am I supposed to know what comes next? So much of my identity was tied to being a wife and mom, then, out of nowhere, I am neither of those things anymore. What am I going to do?”
“You’re going to live, Lo. We’re going to live. I don’t know how, but we have to.”
“That’s easy for you to say, Demi. You have something to live for. You have a life and a home, and you have a child. I have nothing.”
“You’ve got me,” Demi answered swiftly.
“Oh, Demi,” she whispered in exasperation.
She shook her head, eyes watering. “You’re so dependable.
You’re so present. So accommodating. You’ve wiped my tears this past week.
You’ve held me. You’ve wiped the snot from my nose.
You’ve ignored every single instinct that makes you want to disconnect.
You were warm with me. You coddled me. If you could have been that way when we were married, we would still be married. ”
“I thought I was a good husband, Lo. I gave what I thought you needed.”