Six
Bri
I’m pretty sure Liem isn’t capable of murder, but I’ve been wrong once or twice before.
Is it smart to stay with him? Yes and no. If I go home like I’d planned, I will have to stay with Keisha. Her invitation was more of a mandate.
As my oldest friend, there is no excuse I can make to turn down her offer unless I keep living in David’s house or I find my own place. One option is not ideal, and one, for right now, is not possible. Rocks and hard places. Then Liem gave me a soft place to land.
Staying with a man I met a few days ago would sound outlandish under any other circumstances, but I couldn’t ask for a better opportunity.
Within the month, I’ll find a full-time position back home with better pay and benefits.
While I’m here, I can do gig work through the apps like I did back home.
Without having to worry about rent, I’ll put whatever money I make toward a deposit on an apartment.
Admittedly, it is a bonus that I’ll do all of that within arm’s reach of one of the most attractive male specimens I’ve seen in my life.
Why Liem decided to do me this large of a favor, I couldn’t tell you. I’ve given him emotional support through our breakup drama, but I would do the same for any of my friends. He, however temporarily, is my friend.
If he rides for me, I’ll ride him—ride for him.
Liem found a few places in budget that we’re looking at later this morning.
He’s letting me choose the place to make me feel more comfortable, less trapped.
I pick, he pays, like a sugar daddy in training.
Though he doesn’t seem interested in me, who knows what will happen in a week or two?
Maybe he’ll spontaneously forget about the love of his life and ask me to pay up with my body.
Liem has been in my bed twice already. It’s only a matter of time before the line of pillows gets crossed, and I can’t say the thought disappoints me. For now, I’ll focus on getting myself together, not getting together with him.
My phone buzzes, pulling me away from my thoughts before the text drags me right back in.
Junie: Kelly didn’t know.
Before I knew the full scope of David’s betrayal, I sent in Junie, my other best friend, to do reconnaissance on Kellen.
What he knew, when, if Keisha was covering for him after the fact—verifying whether I would be entering enemy territory once I arrived.
The information she gained from the two of them during dinner last night proves that he didn’t know about the other woman, or their offspring.
It seems I’m the only one who knows that extra detail.
I’m happy to leave it that way for a while longer.
Me: Are you sure?
Junie: Yep. Completely clueless. Remind me why Keke married him?
Junie has a level of independence I’ve always admired. From the first day of college through today, she has stayed steadfast in her career ambitions, climbing the ladder in record time, never letting a single penis trip her up. My idol.
Me: Big dick?
Junie: Guarantee I have a bigger one in my drawer.
I love her.
Junie: You should call her, though. She’s really worried about you.
When I tell Keisha I’m not going back yet, she won’t be happy. And when I tell her I’m staying with someone I met a handful of days ago, she’ll be even less happy.
With someone like Keisha, it’s better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. What is she going to do? Fly here and drag me back to California?
Who am I kidding? She would.
I video call her, and Keisha answers on the second ring. “Did you find a flight?” she asks with no greeting.
“What happened to, ‘Hi, how are you?’ ”
Junie leans into frame and waves. “Hi, baby!”
Now that is a greeting. “Hi, babe. I’m glad you’re there.”
She winks, understanding my subliminal message. “I’ll find someone to take care of David soon, don’t worry.” She slides offscreen as if she hadn’t casually admitted to plotting a murder.
“When are you coming home?” Keisha asks again.
Nerves set in, not because I’m afraid to tell her but because I’m afraid she’ll try to talk me out of it. Because she will try to talk me out of it. “I’m going to stay here for a little while longer.”
As expected, her face screws up like she’s looking at an idiot. “Why?”
“I need to take some time to get my finances together and find an apartment. Then I’ll come back.”
“You can do that here,” Keisha begins her counterargument, as expected. “Stay with me and Kelly.”
But I don’t want to be there. “This weekend has really fucked with my head, and I want to move forward on my terms. So, I need some time. You have to get that.”
Keisha’s pause tells me I’ve made a good point, but she doesn’t let that stop her from looking for the next hole in my argument. “How much time?”
“Only a couple of weeks. We’re going to look at places later today.”
“Who is ‘we’?” The question I’ve been dreading.
I wasn’t even close to getting away with it. “Me and my new friend.”
“And your new friend is . . . ?”
“. . . His name is Liem.”
“Ambrielle Nina Washington . . .” Keisha full-government-names me, exactly like my momma used to do. “What in the hell do you believe you are doing?” Now she’s channeling her mother, accent and all. I’m in trouble.
“You’re really going to middle-name me over—”
“You’re going to move in with a man?” Junie slides in again to pile on.
I shoot her a look that screams Whose side are you on? “I’m not moving in with him. We’re staying in the same place. Temporarily.”
“He is a man!”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what men do?” Keisha asks.
“They murder people?” I guess the obvious.
“They murder people.”
I appreciate their concern, but they haven’t met Liem, and they don’t know the extent to which David has hurt me. I don’t want to rehash it right now. “He’s a sweetheart.”
“He. Is. A. Man.”
“A nice one. And a handsome one.”
“Some people said Ted Bundy was handsome too. You know, before he murdered them,” Junie pops back in.
“Even if he isn’t a murderer, men are not easy to live with,” Keisha insists, clearly talking about her husband. “The amount of dirty socks around this house . . . Tell me how I have a pile of them on my bedroom floor when the hamper is right there.”
“Besides murder and inability to do laundry, is he aware of your situation?” Junie swirls her finger in the direction of my stomach. “Men do not understand the woes of women. Especially woes as bad as yours.”
I’ve gotten considerably better since my surgery. My friends are still traumatized by the rough time I had during college. “The pain is much more manageable now. He won’t even notice. Not that it matters, since I’m only staying a couple of weeks.”
“Still a bad idea,” Keisha says. “You should come home.”
As if on cue, the door opens behind me and the suspected future murderer walks in. For the first time since we met, he isn’t in a hoodie. The one he wore to the gym hangs in his hand, leaving him in only a fitted T-shirt clinging to his body. A body I had no idea looked like that.
Already entranced by a face as killer as his, now that he’s glistening with sweat, veins pronounced from his exercise, I see I may have made a huge mistake.
The man is foine.
His eyes meet mine, and a smile appears on his face. “Hey,” I greet him, trying desperately not to purr.
He pulls out his earbud, and his smile widens. “Hey!” His innocence always offsets my misplaced horniness, and for that, I am thankful.
“Is that him?” Junie asks.
I mute myself to talk to Liem. “Do you want to talk to my friends? They’re worried you’re going to murder me.”
“You were too,” he says with a laugh. “My kind do have a proclivity for murder. It’s a statistically sound suspicion.”
“Okay, but don’t say that to them.”
He sits next to me and leans into frame. “Hi, I’m Liem.”
Cheek to cheek to get a better view, Junie and Keisha’s eyes widen and their lips pucker when they see him. They exchange a glance beneath raised brows, about to embarrass me.
“Now we see why you want to move in,” Junie says.
“Mm-hmm,” Keisha agrees with her conniving smile.
Ignoring them, I turn to Liem. “This is Keisha and Junie.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” he says. It’s not the truth—or if it is, it won’t be for long.
“Nice to meet you, handsome,” Keisha says.
Stop it! I scream silently with my face.
Liem is what I’d picture Keisha and Junie’s baby would look like—a Nigerian-Singaporean work of art. They have opposite physical features from skin tone to hair texture to body shape to height, but are both offensively beautiful, with the same loud, meddlesome personality.
“How’d you two meet?” Junie teases. I love them, but I am so tired of them.
Liem and I look at each other at the same time, our noses within familiar territory when we do. I turn away quickly. “He was in the restaurant during my breakup.”
“No way,” Junie says.
“I was. And I was getting broken up with by my girl—ex—too.”
“He got dumped right next to me.”
“We’re trauma twins,” he says.
“Breakup buddies.” I can’t fight his infectious smile, as much as I don’t want Keisha and Junie to read into it. Again, we are a little too close. How can he smell so good after a workout?
“You’re cute together,” Junie coos.
“Stop it,” I snip.
“If you don’t plan to murder her, do you plan to . . . get physical with her?”
“Keisha Reneé Joseph,” I scold her.
“I promise I will not hurt her in any way,” Liem says, either not entertaining Keisha’s joke or not picking up on it. “I’ll have her send you the address, my company’s contact info, and a copy of my ID if you want.”
“Yes, please.”
He seems happy to complete the last of Keisha’s prosecutorial due diligence.
“Well, you two have fun,” she says as she signs off.
“Goodbye, handsome,” Junie sings, tapping the screen to end the call before I can scold her again.
With a heavy sigh, I bury my face in my hands. “Sorry. They can be so embarrassing.”
“It’s cool,” he says with a relaxed grin. “I wish I had friends like that. I wish I had friends at all.”
Natalie’s words repeat in my head. He has someone important in his life. Surely. If not . . .
“You have me,” I remind him. “I can be messy and get all up in your business and embarrass you if you want.”
A smile blooms on his face like a hopeful flower. It seems he does want someone in his business. “Yes, I’d like that.”
“Go shower so we can leave,” I say as an excuse to get out of his orbit. He does as I say.
My phone pings again.
Keisha: Girl, he is so fine. You better get it!!!
Junie: Keke said you should hop on that dick expeditiously and I AGREE!
Funny how they both stopped worrying about my murder the minute they saw him. Though, to be fair, I did the same.
~
Four hours later, we’ve picked a place and are moved in.
A cute apartment used as a vacation rental, it has two cozy bedrooms, one half bath, one three-quarter bath with a glass shower, and great views of the street three floors below.
The kitchen is small but has an island. I’ll be able to sit in the living room and watch TV while waiting on the timer.
It’s two blocks from a dog park and one block from a bougie fitness club foolish enough to give a free month to new clients. It checks all our boxes.
The streets outside are walkable and busy but lack the loudness that surrounded the hotel. Brooklyn might as well be a different city. Is it a different city?
“I will. Love you,” Liem says as he leaves his room. He looks down at his phone, flinching when he sees me as if he forgot I was here.
“Was that your mommy?” I ask teasingly.
“Yeah. She’s overseas taking care of my grandma right now, so she calls at odd hours.”
“Is your grandma okay?”
“She’s fine. She’s just ninety, you know?”
“Okay, good. Did you tell her you’re moving in with a stranger?” I ask. His lips part to offer an explanation to match the intimidation on his face. I save him the trouble. “I’m kidding. It’s sweet you talk to your mom so often.”
He brushes off my compliment with another shy laugh. He’s such a puppy. Or a kitten. An accidental sex kitten.
“I was coming to tell you that my room feels way better now. Thank you,” he says.
I couldn’t help myself. The bed was in the stupidest location. Moving it to the other wall opened the circulation and gave him space to let the desk work the way he needed. Easy stuff.
“I’m glad.” For the first time, an awkward moment settles between us. I haven’t moved in with a stranger before, not even the dorms in college. Keisha was my roomie from day one. “What are we supposed to do now?”
“I can make dinner for us. Break in the kitchen,” he offers. A man who cooks? “I’m good, I promise. I grew up in a restaurant.”
“You did?”
He nods. “My parents’. It’s like soul food–Vietnamese fusion.”
“For real?”
“Yeah. They have more in common than you’d think. They serve, like, oxtail pho, chili crisp mac and cheese, coconut milk grits with short ribs . . .”
“What? Make that!”
“Which one?”
“All of it!”
He laughs. “It’ll take more than one night.”
“You have two weeks. Better start now, huh?”
He studies me for a second, his cute smile remaining. “Two weeks. Right.”
My face feels warm. It’s difficult not to feel some kind of way when someone with a face card like Liem’s looks at you. But he doesn’t look at me like that.
The thirst, the hunger, those sly lines of men who are more concerned with seeing you naked than seeing you. Liem is the opposite. I bet he couldn’t hit on me if he tried.
He is a man of multitudes—tempting multitudes—but that’s not why we’re here.
“I can’t wait to get a taste,” I say.
We’ll pretend I was talking about the food.