CHAPTER THREE
ARIELLE
Kye changed the music four times, answered Trell twice, and kept checking the clock on the dashboard like twelve o’clock came with police lights.
I didn’t ask about her wrist again.
It meant I knew what Kye did when she felt cornered. She got louder. Funnier. Mean if she needed to be. Pushing her in a moving car would’ve gotten me a joke, a lie, or both.
Instead, I sent our location to Jori and Nae in the group chat.
JORI: Why are y’all going to Philly on a Wednesday?
KYE: Because life doesn’t end when you put scrubs on
NAE: Mine ended when Amir learned how to open doors
A video followed. Nae’s two-year-old stood in the middle of her kitchen wearing one rain boot, a diaper, and somebody’s bonnet while she chased him with pajama pants.
Kye laughed so hard, she had to wipe under her eyes.
“Ain’t no way I’m having kids,” she said.
“You say that every time Amir does something cute too.”
“Cute children still go home and ruin your sleep.”
“He lives there.”
“Exactly my point.”
I laughed, but my attention stayed split between the road and my phone. Cam hadn’t answered the last text I sent.
Me: Kye and I might stop through.
Delivered.
No response.
I told myself he was working. The venue was probably loud. His phone could’ve been in his pocket.
Every explanation made sense by itself. Together, they were starting to sound like excuses I had written for him.
We parked in a garage three blocks from the rooftop. Kye made me keep the scarf on until we reached the elevator, then snatched it off and smoothed my hair with both palms.
“There. Stop looking like somebody kidnapped you from a beauty supply store.”
“Do I look rushed?”
“You look expensive.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“I know.”
The elevator doors opened before I could ask again.
The party filled the top floor of a converted warehouse. Pink and blue lights moved over white walls, glass tables, and people dressed like they had somewhere more important to be after this. A photographer stood near the entrance. Somebody with a clipboard asked for our names.
Kye gave hers first.
The woman scrolled. “I don’t see either of you.”
My face heated so fast, I was grateful for the dim light.
Kye leaned toward the clipboard. “Look under Cameron Harris.”
“His guest list is closed.”
“Call him.”
The woman’s smile tightened. “He’s working.”
“So are you. Call him.”
“Kye.” I touched her arm. “It’s fine.”
I had crossed a bridge on a work night, paid twenty-eight dollars to park, and walked three blocks in heels to stand outside a party my boyfriend was helping run while a woman with a headset told me I wasn’t invited.
The humiliation was small enough that nobody else would’ve recognized it.
That almost made it worse.
The woman lifted her phone, but a man in a black T-shirt approached before she dialed.
“Ari?” he asked.
I recognized Domo, one of Cam’s friends. He had been around long enough to know my birthday, my drink order, and that Cam got irritated when anybody called him Cameron.
“Hey.”
“Cam said bring you up if you came.” He nodded toward the elevator. “Y’all good.”
If you came.
Not when.
I smiled like the difference didn’t matter.
Kye murmured, “Closed list my ass,” as we walked past the woman.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not doing nothing.”
“That sentence never means that when you say it.”
The roof was warmer than I expected. Heat lamps glowed near the lounge furniture. The city stretched around us, all windows, headlights and bridges lit against the dark.
For half a second, I forgot why I had come.
Then, I saw Cam.
He stood near the DJ booth with a headset around his neck, speaking to a man in a gray suit. He looked focused. In control. The kind of man who belonged in every room he entered.
That was part of why I loved watching him work. Cam could make chaos line up and wait its turn. He remembered who needed a bottle, which photographer had to be paid, whose name mattered at the door. He made people feel like access to him meant access to something bigger.
When his eyes landed on me, his expression changed.
Not happy.
Not angry either.
Caught off guard.
He excused himself and came toward us.
“What you doing here?” he asked.
Kye made a sound under her breath.
I ignored her. “Hello to you, too.”
Cam bent and kissed my cheek. His lips barely touched me.
“I thought you were home resting.”
“Kye invited me.”
His eyes moved to her. “Of course, she did.”
“Why you say it like I brought the health department?” Kye asked.
“Because wherever you go, a complaint follows.”
“Funny.”
“I’m working,” he said to me. “I can’t be posted up all night.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“Okay.”
That one word had an attitude sitting inside it.
I crossed my arms. “Why’d you delete your story?”
“Brand asked everybody to. They want the professional footage up first.”
Reasonable.
Clean.
Ready before I asked.
“Who’s Sade?”
Cam glanced around, not nervous, just aware of the people close enough to hear us. “She hosts for the brand.”
“That’s all?”
“What else would it be?”
Kye stepped away, suddenly interested in the bar.
Cam lowered his voice, “You came all the way down here over a picture?”
“No. I came because my friend invited me.”
“Then, enjoy yourself.”
“I planned to.”
We stared at each other until Domo called Cam’s name from across the roof.
Cam touched my waist. The same place his hand had rested on Sade’s.
“I’ll come find you when I get a second.”
Then, he left.
Kye returned with two drinks. “I hate his eyebrows.”
“You liked his eyebrows last week.”
“That was before they got smart with you.”
I took the glass. “He’s working.”
“You’ve said that enough times for both of y’all.”
“Can we not?”
Kye lifted one shoulder. “We can do whatever you want. It’s your almost-birthday.”
We moved near the edge of the crowd. People I knew from campus and Cam’s events stopped to speak. A girl from my interpersonal communication class told me my skin looked perfect. Somebody else asked where my top came from. The photographer waved me over.
Within ten minutes, I had what I usually needed from a room.
Proof that I looked like I belonged there.
Kye and I posed together. She leaned into me, one hand on my hip, both of us smiling like we had never kept a secret from each other.
After the flash, a voice behind us said, “You’re Ari, right?”
I turned.
Sade was even prettier close up.
Of course, she was.
Her ponytail reached her waist. Tiny stones glittered along the straps of her dress. She held a phone in one hand and smiled at me with the careful politeness women used when they already knew exactly who you were.
“Yeah.”
“I’ve seen you on Cam’s page.”
“He barely posts me.”
Her smile shifted.
Kye stepped beside me. “You needed something?”
Sade looked at her. Something passed between them. Recognition, maybe.
“No. I was speaking.”
“Then hey,” Kye said.
“Kye.” I didn’t take my eyes off Sade. “How do you know Cam?”
“I host some of his events.”
“Some?”
“Ari,” Kye warned quietly.
Sade tilted her head. “You should probably ask your man where he was Monday instead of asking me questions at work.”
The music kept playing.
People kept laughing.
Somebody bumped my shoulder and apologized.
Everything around me continued like she hadn’t just placed a live wire in my hand.
“Where was he Monday?” I asked.
Sade looked over my shoulder.
Cam was walking toward us.
Her expression turned almost amused. “See? Perfect timing.”
Cam stopped beside me. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Sade was about to tell me where you were Monday.”
He looked at her, and whatever was in his face made her smile disappear.
“I was at Domo’s,” he said.
“That’s what you told me.”
“Because that’s where I was.”
Sade lifted both hands. “Leave me out of it.”
“You put yourself in it,” Kye said.
Cam’s voice sharpened, “Kye, chill.”
“Don’t tell me—”
I caught her hand before she finished. “Not here.”
Sade walked away first.
Cam watched her go, then turned to me. “You see why I didn’t invite you?”
“Excuse me?”
“You come in already looking for something. Now, you questioning people in the middle of an event I’m responsible for.”
“She approached me.”
“And you could’ve said hello and kept it moving.”
My eyes burned. I blinked once, hard.
Crying in front of Cam made him softer sometimes. Other times, it made him impatient. I didn’t know which version I was getting tonight, and I refused to gamble with my face in a room full of cameras.
“I didn’t make a scene,” I said.
“You’re making one now.”
Nobody was looking at us.
“Come on,” Kye said. “We leaving.”
Cam caught my elbow gently before I turned. His smile appeared for the two men passing behind us. Then, he leaned close enough that only I could hear him.
“Don’t embarrass me at my own event.”
He let me go.
I walked toward the elevator without answering because if I opened my mouth, the tears would’ve gotten there first.
Inside the elevator, Kye pressed the garage level and faced me.
“Say the word.”
“For what?”
“I’ll go back up there and embarrass him correctly.”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. One tear did too. I wiped it away fast. Kye didn’t pretend she hadn’t seen. She just stood closer until our shoulders touched.
A message came through as the elevator dropped.
Cam: This is exactly why I told you to stay home.
I read the message twice. Then, I turned my screen facedown and watched the numbers fall.