Epilogue
One Month Later
Las Vegas, Nevada
RICH
Senior says I’m domesticated now.
He says he was the same way with Faye when they were younger, and I think I know what he means.
I get excited for all the boring shit that happens when you’re in love—like going to bed and waking up with Slim, watching her put on makeup, and staring at her wander through racks of clothes in stores I’ve never even wanted to step foot in before.
Now I can’t sleep unless her skin is touching mine.
I know that foundation goes before concealer.
I know what time Saks closes by heart, and I know the difference between a clutch and a shoulder bag.
I grab hold of the edge of our bed to shove my feet in the loafers Slim brought home for me yesterday while our building sways and my stomach fumbles.
“Up first at ten—looks like there’s trouble for newly elected District D councilman, Melo Barnes.
Several members of the Bayou Crest community are accusing the councilman of heinous crimes, such as drug trafficking, assault, and some even say extortion.
More after the break,” the newscaster drones from my phone that’s perched on top of our dresser.
Howling wind echoes through our apartment and makes my eyes dart toward the floor to ceiling windows in our bedroom.
Blue skies stretch across the city, and white clouds float above Nevada’s mountains.
Smitty said they looked like somebody painted them when I texted him a picture while we stopped for gas as soon as we made it to Vegas, because we ain’t actually get on a plane and fly anywhere.
We loaded up my truck with all the shit that mattered to us and drove all twenty-one hours to Nevada because Slim is obsessed with the little things, like making sure I saw the Rio Grande, and making sure we made love at least once in the backseat of my truck when the sun rose over the mountains in Tucson.
She picked out a high-rise condo near the Strip because she said I deserved to wake up and see the city every morning, but Vegas’ skyline ain’t nothing like Houston’s, and the air ain’t the same either.
Sometimes I open up the windows to taste it on days like this, where the wind shakes our condo and makes my stomach flip-flop.
Slim says I’ll get used to the building’s swaying eventually.
“That’s how it’s designed,” she muttered one stormy night between yawns after waking up to me sitting with my back against the headboard. “It’s absorbing the wind. It’s keeping the building from falling over.”
Afterward, she climbed on top of me and held me like she said she wanted to do during that one and only time we broke up.
This fancy condo she likes ain’t our forever home.
It’s just where God told me we needed to land in the meantime.
He ain’t talk to me in the way I always imagined Him talking when Faye would take us to church, though.
Instead, His goodness came through the day after I delivered Melo’s money.
It happened in the Whole Foods parking lot where Chico opened his car door from the parking spot next to ours at the same time Slim opened the passenger door to my truck.
Then, God’s mercy came in the first words that came out of Chico’s mouth when his eyes trailed from my hand on Lovie’s thigh to my face.
“Faye said she been wanting to talk to me in private about you maybe going up to Vegas to work with my buddy, Roberto,” he said.
“I planned to call him and vouch for you because I owe your daddy. He paid a debt or two for me down at Lucky’s back in the day.
I just wanted to check in with you before I did it.
I been tryna call Faye to get your number to connect with you, but I ain’t been able to get in touch with her since her and Kenny, you know… ”
Me and Slim had nodded at the same time in response. I tried to think of something to say, but I couldn’t. The whole neighborhood knew what that “you know” meant.
Kenny and Faye’s breakup was ugly. She showed back up on Joliet the same way she showed up all those years ago—with a duffel bag over her shoulder and tears in her eyes.
“I chose,” she whispered as soon as I opened the door. “Now what, Rich?”
Now her address is 2308 Joliet Street again, and her name is on the deed where it always belonged.
The familiar clink, clink, clink of Slim’s heels makes me look away from the window.
“Uh-huh. Well, we won’t be able to fly in until the fifteenth. Can you schedule his neurologist appointment for that Monday?” Her soft murmurs get closer to our bedroom as I put on my other loafer.
She lets out a giggle that only comes out when Senior calls her “sweet pea.” “Yeah…I’ll let him know. Uh-huh. I love y’all too. You guys enjoy church. Pray for us—”
The clinking of her heels gets louder, cutting between her words and the sounds from my phone until she’s gliding right in front of me with her hand on her hip.
“Breaking news on this New Year’s Eve—several residents of the Bayou Crest community are voicing their concerns about newly elected District D councilman, Melo—”
She walks up to our dresser, turns my phone off, then turns around with her eyebrow raised.
“I just wanted to know what the weather was like back home,” I mutter.
“Uh-huh.” She crosses her arms, smirking. “I asked Faye for you. She said, it’s sixty-two there…and there’s always the weather app on your phone too.”
Her sparkling minidress hugs her curvier body that I stare at in awe when she gets dressed because one crazy ass part of being domesticated is constantly imagining what it’d be like if I gave in and gave my baby that son she’s always begging me for.
“And the Knights lost again on Sunday. So no need to check the scores tonight at dinner.”
I chuckle, standing up straight and tugging at the bottom of the most expensive white t-shirt I’ve ever worn because Slim shops like a motherfucka, and when she’s not shopping, she’s sewing or imagining something she can sew.
“Am I in trouble?” I ask.
She tilts her head. “No…not when you look like this, you’re not.”
I snort. “What I look like, baby?”
Her nostrils flare, and she walks up to me, dusting off my shoulders and pulling my necklace out of my shirt. Even with heels on, she only comes up to my chin.
She eyes my slacks and loafers and the leather jacket she left for me on the bed.
“I’m not letting my intrusive thoughts win…” her voice trails off while she picks up the jacket. “But you know exactly what you look like right now. Don’t start with me.”
I snicker as she shakes the jacket out and slides it onto my arm with a smile that doesn’t light up her eyes, despite it being New Year’s Eve.
Something’s wrong.
The more domesticated I get, the easier it is for me to see her even more than I did before.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She shakes her head, pulling my other arm through the jacket.
“Tell me.”
She tugs the front of the jacket, shrugging and sighing.
“Tell me…”
“So will my sister-in-law always be standoffish with me?”
I blubber out a laugh that makes her swat my shoulder. “I’m not laughing, Rich. I decorated a whole bedroom for her, and she wants to stay on the Strip? Really?”
“Slim…I told you to give her a minute. She’s been the—”
“Only girl for thirty years besides Faye. Yeah, I get that, but I’m trying, Rich, and I don’t think it’s fair that I’m the one kissing her ass while she pays me dust. I sent her a picture of the bedroom, and do you know what she texted me?”
My heart does that happy stutter that only Slim can make it do while I get lost in the way her brown eyes grow bigger the more frustrated she gets.
“What she text you back, mama?”
“She said, ‘Oh. I already booked a room at Mandalay Bay’. No ‘thank you’ or anything, by the way. Now I have to pretend not to be mad at dinner.”
I laugh harder—not at her and Arnez and their constant beefing, but at the fact that I went so long without experiencing regular ass shit like my lady and my sister bickering.
I reach down and slide my hands under her dress, pushing it up while she keeps going on about Arnez and Mandalay Bay. I pick her up and she wraps her legs around my middle with ease while draping her arms over my shoulders.
“After all we’ve been through, we should really be closer. Yesenia says I need to be patient, but how much more patient can I seriously be?” she rambles while I walk her over to one of the floor to ceiling windows in our bedroom.
I push her back against it, then stoop down and press my lips against hers, swallowing the rest of her words.
“Mmm…” she moans, pulling away. “She has no problem texting me for outfit advice, but anything more than that is too much for her? What about when we have kids, Rich? How am I going to explain to my son that his aunt hates his mama? These things keep me up at night…”
I laugh with my lips hovering over hers.
“It’s not funny.”
“You right…you right. It’s not.” I murmur, digging my nails into her ass. “You want my advice?”
“If it’s generic, I don’t.”
I snort, pecking her lips. “Listen, my smartass baby, I’m trying to tell you how to get on her good side so my son won’t have to hear about his aunt hating his mama.”
Her body melts into mine in the same way it always does when she says I’m acting more like an empathetic human and less like the Tin Man.
“You listening?” I ask.
“Uh-huh.” She nods, holding me tighter.
“Banana Laffy Taffys.” I peck her nose. “And when she reads you the joke on the wrapper—you gotta laugh no matter how bad the shit is. She a real simple girl.”
The last time I saw Arnez in a dress was the night she came home from Jazzy’s all drunk and giddy, telling me about a dude she met in the parking lot after accidentally scraping his car door with her purse.
Tonight she has on a little black mini-dress that makes me smile when she stands up from our table. Her long hair is straight and hangs down her back in a way that I forgot it could.