Chapter 6
Kairo~
While my father and his governing body had done a lot to rid our region of crime and poverty, Las Vegas had been left alone when the states had been divvied up, Sterling Acres having acquired California, Nevada, Utah, and Arizona.
So, Sin City still existed in all its glory, and I couldn’t lie and say that I wasn’t a fan of visiting the city from time to time.
Granted, things had changed quite a bit from the old days, and while you could still gamble, party, and take in a show, prostitution had been regulated from the free-for-all that it’d been to a profession that was still looked down upon, but was no longer the reckless indulgence that it used to be.
Plus, Las Vegas was the one city in all of Sterling Acres that brought in the most taxes and economical revenue, and so my father had been wise enough not to cut his nose off to spite his face.
“Should we even be here?” I asked Winston as he signaled the bartender for another round. “I mean, we’re supposed to go fishing in the morning.”
“Dude, we’re twenty-five, not sixty-five,” he retorted. “We’ll be home by midnight, which gives us both a good six hours of sleep.”
“I’m pretty sure that the recommended amount is eight,” I drawled out.
Winston just grinned. “If you’re sixty-five, it is. Besides, no one is telling you to get shitfaced drunk or anything like that. This is just a night out.”
“Said no one ever while in Las Vegas,” I snorted.
Just then, Winston spotted an empty table. “Look, that couple just left. Let’s go snag the table before anyone else does.”
Before I could agree or disagree, Winston was heading across the bar to commandeer the empty table, and I didn’t blame him.
While the bar was convenient as far as drinks went, if we weren’t here to get drunk, then a semi-private table would serve us better.
So, grabbing my glass of whiskey, I followed him, taking the seat across from him, giving Winston a clear view of the room.
Ever since I could remember, he’d always had a problem having his back to any open spaces, and since it didn’t matter to me, I always accommodated him.
“So, do you want to tell me what’s been bothering you all evening?” he asked, which shouldn’t have surprised me. Not only was Winston my best friend and could read me like a book, but it was hard to have personal conversations at a busy bar.
“My mother asked me who I was taking to the Silver Linings Gala next month,” I answered, not bothering to pretend like I wasn’t annoyed.
Winston winced. “Ouch.”
“Yeah, and I’m not about to start dating someone just to alleviate her worries that I might be gay,” I told him.
“Well, considering who your father is, it’s a valid concern,” he replied evenly. “It wouldn’t do for any of Alvin Booker’s sons to be gay.”
I shot him a look. ‘There’s nothing wrong with being gay.”
“That depends on who you ask,” he countered.
“It’s a debatable topic that no one will ever win, along with religion, race, and politics.
” He shrugged like none of those subjects were life changing.
“Besides, your father has done a lot to undo a lot of stereotypes that have plagued our people, and so he needs you, Leyden, and Dallas to help support his preachings.”
“Be that as it may, that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not about to knock up some woman just to give them the perfect Christmas card every year,” I replied. “Besides, I’m only twenty-five. What’s the damn rush?”
Winston shrugged again. “She could just be bored and need grandchildren to occupy her time. You know what they say about idle hands, and I can see her being all up in your lives if one of you doesn’t give her a grandchild soon.”
“And while I don’t disagree, that someone should be Dallas,” I stated. “Not only is he the oldest, but he’s the only one of us that has a steady girlfriend.”
“One that he’s not serious about,” Winston pointed out. “And even if he was, it just proves that this isn’t about having a girlfriend; it’s about not being gay.”
“God, it sounds so awful when you say it that way,” I sighed. “Which is crazy because I know that my mother isn’t homophobic.” Winston shook his head, earning a glare from me. “What? What’s that for? What is that?”
“The extremity of that word,” he answered, and I wasn’t sure what he was talking about.
“What do you mean?”
“The definition of phobia is the extreme fear or dislike of something, and most of the time, that doesn’t apply,” he went on.
“In my opinion, people confuse phobic reactions with prejudice views. The definition of prejudice is the unfair or unreasonable opinion of something without enough thought or knowledge of the subject. See the difference?”
“Not really,” I admitted.
“I might not care for relish on my hot dogs, but that doesn’t mean that I hate relish,” he remarked, simplifying his point. “So, your mother can prefer that you not be gay without hating gay people. I mean, did she hate on UCLA when you chose going there over UNLV?”
I scowled a bit as I took another drink of my whiskey. “I don’t think it’s the same thing,” I told him as I set my glass on the table. “We’re talking about people, not condiments or colleges, Winston.”
He just grinned. “The concept is the same.”
“I think a lot of people would argue with you about that,” I replied.
“Which is why I said that it was a debatable topic,” he pointed out. “Look, I’m not your mother’s brain, so I shouldn’t be putting words in her mouth. I just think that parents can’t help but always have an ulterior motive, whether good or bad in nature.”
“Do your parents?”
“Of course,” he answered easily. “I made the mistake of mentioning Nadine last week, and my mother about shit herself.” He shook his head as he sighed. “She was about to start making wedding arrangements.”
Nadine Barker was a manager at the First Union Bank, and her specialty was money market accounts, and that’s how Winston had met her.
While he didn’t bank there, he’d heard of their great portfolio options, and so he’d made an appointment with her, and while it was still early, it was going well for him so far.
“How did you calm her down?” I asked, semi-seriously.
“I told her that if Nadine and I didn’t work out because of her meddling, then I’d make sure to set boundaries the next time, practically barring her from my personal life altogether,” he answered, seemingly unbothered by it all.
“What did she say to that?”
He grinned. “What do you think? She snatched me up by my ear, then dared me to threaten her again.”
That made me laugh because I could picture it. If there was one thing that Black mothers didn’t do, it was let their children disrespect them. They were either smothering you to death with love and affection, or else they were handling business, and Winston’s mother was a queen if I’d ever met one.
“And then?” I chuckled.
“She sat me down, and then we had a serious conversation about how she might still be my momma, but that I was a grown man now, and she needed to respect that in the same way that she demanded respect from me,” he answered. “All-in-all, I got my point across, and she didn’t kick my ass.”
I laughed. “She should have kicked your ass on gp. I mean, you’re bound to deserve it sooner or later.”
After a few seconds of sipping on our drinks, he said, “You know, Nadine has this friend-”
“Oh, no,” I rushed out, stopping him. “I’m not doing the blind date thing.”
He laughed good-naturedly. “Why not?”
“Because blind dates are the worst, and you know it,” I replied. “They’ve got to be the most awkward thing in creation.”
“Then how else are you going to get Momma Booker off your back?” he questioned, a huge grin still on his face.
“Maybe I’ll just remind her that there’s nothing wrong with being gay,” I retorted.
“Well, since I am a teacher, I’ll be more than happy to come along and explain it to her,” he offered, half-serious.
“Thanks, but maybe she just needs a quick reminder that a parent’s job is to love their child just as they are,” I remarked.
“Amen,” he preached, seriously this time. “A-fucking-men.”
Yeah, it was time for another drink.