Chapter 5 #2
Eyeing my grandmother again, I wondered how long this man had been around. Forcing my attention back to Ace, I cleared my throat. “I wish I could say the same.”
“I hope to change that,” he offered. “I would love to get to know the young woman who makes my Old Lady smile with pride.”
Okay, he’s good.
Grandma gushed, averting her gaze for a second before she swatted his arm playfully. “Oh hush, Old Man.”
I know she’s not blushing!
I gave him a once-over. He was nice looking.
Fine, actually. Salt-and-pepper beard. Well groomed.
He was thin, but not in a frail way. While he walked with a limp, he had an air of confidence around him.
A quiet strength. He was someone that should never be underestimated—or played with.
Yet, he seemed sincere. And the way he looked at Grandma …
I couldn’t deny that his obvious endearment melted some of my ice.
“I heard you’re back in the city indefinitely,” he continued. “I’d love to take you and Liv to lunch.”
While I still wasn’t sure about any of this, I found myself nodding at the man. “Who are you?”
“Ace,” he repeated.
Frowning, I shook my head. “No, I mean … what is your real name? Where did you come from? How do you know Grandma? When did you start spending time here? In this house. With her. In her bed.”
He smiled. “You were right, Liv.”
Grandma grinned. “Told you.”
“Right about what?” I folded my arms over my chest. “What’s going on?”
“She told me you were overprotective.”
“Just as overprotective as she is,” I tossed back.
“I think you have me beat, Pooh,” she muttered.
“Ace is my real name,” he explained. “My last name is Bond. I met Liv at Flower Day a couple of years ago.”
“Years?” I croaked, glancing at Grandma before locking eyes on him again. “Are you from Detroit?”
Grandma was well-known and well-connected. I’d grown up surrounded by important people. It wasn’t weird for her to have celebrities in attendance at her events. Singers, artists, rappers, athletes, actresses … Some of them even lived on our block.
Bond …
The name was familiar, but he didn’t strike me as a typical famous Detroiter.
He looked familiar, too. Not in a Motown-singer way or a city-government way, either.
In a legendary way. As I stared at him, I tried to recall where I could’ve seen him.
Then it finally dawned on me. “Wait, Bond? Are you—?”
A smile formed on his lips. “I am.”
My mouth fell open. “Oh my God.” I stood. “You’re Ace Bond. The original Mr. Black Detroit.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
The Mr. Black Organization was founded at the height of the civil rights movement in America. Over the years, they’d expanded nationally. Thousands of Black men in every city represented the org, working to empower, educate, and enlighten our communities.
“It’s an honor,” I whispered, shaking his hand again. Because of all the celebrities, the important people I’d met in my life, this man was an icon.
He squeezed my hand. “I’d say it’s an honor to meet you.”
“I’ve read about your family. The Bond name … I heard so many stories growing up.” I leaned in closer. “Is it true that—”
Placing a finger over his mouth, he shook his head slightly.
“Okay, enough,” Grandma cut in. “Old Man, can you give us some time?”
Ace bent low and pressed a kiss to Grandma’s forehead. “I’ll call you later.” He glanced at me. “Nice to meet you, Albany.”
“You, too.” Shrugging, I added, “I guess you can call me Pooh.”
He barked out a laugh. “Got it. So long.”
Once he shut the door, I turned to Grandma. “Really, Grandma? You’re sleeping with Mr. Black Detroit.”
“He’s my man. My man. My man.”
I cracked up at Grandma’s use of the popular phrase. “You’re too much.” I sat next to her. “When did this happen? I expected you to be sad about Grandpa. But you’re here getting busy.”
“A woman has needs, Pooh.”
I patted her leg. “Let’s not talk about your needs, okay?”
She giggled. “Haven’t I always been honest with you?”
“Maybe too much,” I tossed back. “Seriously”—I squeezed her hand—“are you okay?”
“That man took years of my life from me,” she explained. “He lied to me daily, cheated on me through our entire marriage, and then tried to steal my money. He doesn’t deserve any more of my tears.” She brushed her thumb over my cheek. “I just thought you should know that he died.”
I let out a slow breath. “Is it sad that I have no feelings about this, other than concern for you?” After all, I’d never met the man. I’d only seen him in pictures. He didn’t show up for birthdays, graduations. Not even for my wedding. And he was invited.
“Don’t be. I’m good.”
I smirked. “I can tell.”
She beamed. “He’s such a good man.”
Tucking one leg under my butt, I turned to her. “Tell me about him. You met at Flower Day?”
“We both wanted the same plant,” she explained.
Every year, on the Sunday after Mother’s Day, Grandma ventured downtown to Eastern Market for Flower Day.
It had been her tradition even before she’d moved to Detroit.
Each time she went, she would return with a variety of flowers from the hundreds of vendors who attended.
Then, she’d spend hours planting in her garden, listening to music and drinking wine.
The fact that she’d met someone there seemed like destiny.
Grandma chuckled. “I tried to talk my way into getting it, but since he’d arrived first, the gardener gave it to him. Imagine my surprise when he gave it to me.” She leaned in and added, “and it wasn’t cheap either.”
Smiling, I asked, “Is that when he asked you out?”
“Actually, I invited him to lunch.”
My mouth fell open. This was the same woman who’d made me promise never to make the first move. “You did?”
“There was something about his eyes,” she mused, staring off into space. “So kind. Genuine. I couldn’t help myself. We sat at that restaurant so long that my hip was on fire.” She sighed. “When he insisted that I go home and rest, I didn’t want to leave. That’s when I knew he was the real deal.”
“I love that,” I whispered.
“He took me home that day.”
“On the first day?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know why, but I knew that I didn’t have to worry about anything with him.”
“You felt safe.” It wasn’t a question because I already knew the answer. I’d only ever felt that way with a man once. Not since I was a teenager.
Eyeing me, she nodded. “I did. He took care of me that day. Stuck around to ensure I was actually resting. Then, made me call my doctor. When I had surgery, he was there. He stayed with me, made sure I ate, took me on slow walks around the property. Ace listens to me. He prioritizes me. When I’m in one of my moods, he knows to steer clear without holding it against me.
He calls me on my bullshit. If I’m wrong, he holds me accountable. ”
Smiling at her, I said, “I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Me neither,” she admitted with a shrug. “I’ve never felt like this.”
“I love this look on you.” I squeezed her hand. “You deserve all the happiness you can stand.”
“I want the same for you.” Grandma cupped my cheek. “I don’t love that look in your eyes.”
Averting my gaze, I sucked in a deep breath. “Let’s not talk about me.”
“You know I can’t listen to that, Pooh. I always have something to say.”
That part was true. Grandma had never let the sun go down without speaking her mind.
Even if her words hurt. Most of my friends’ grandmothers spent their time cooking big meals, baking cakes and pies, giving good hugs, attending water aerobics, going on day trips to the casinos, and cruising to exotic destinations.
Not mine. Grandma hated to cook for large groups, which is why she employed a personal chef for holiday get-togethers.
The last time she baked a cake was on my sixteenth birthday.
A pound cake. It was delicious, but when I asked for another one, she flat out told me “hell no.” She rarely hugged anyone.
If she did, it was usually because the person really needed it.
While she knew how to swim, she considered water aerobics to be the next step before death, so she tried to avoid it.
Cigarette smoke kept her from the casinos and she preferred all-inclusive resorts to overcrowded ships.
“I’m just waiting on you to talk to me,” she said.
I peered up at the ceiling as tears filled my eyes. “I can’t.”
She tipped my chin, bringing my gaze back to hers. “What did he do to you?” she prodded. “If he put his hands on you, I’ll set his ass on fire.”
I gasped, then burst out in a fit of giggles even through the tears that escaped my eyes. “Grandma! You can’t threaten people. Even Darrell.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
“Well?”
“He cheated on me. Lied to me. Stole from me. That’s just the CliffsNotes explanation.
Finally, I just couldn’t take it anymore.
So, I left. Then, he filed for bankruptcy, ruining my credit and leaving me with a ton of debt that I can’t afford.
As if that’s not fucked up, he acts like it was my fault that our house went into foreclosure and his belongings were set out on the curb. ”
Grandma muttered a string of curses, but I could’ve sworn I saw something I didn’t expect to see. Tears. But she turned her head before I could confirm my suspicions. Seconds later, she turned to me. “Sounds familiar,” she confessed.
I’d heard the stories about Grandad, and I had to agree. Except, my grandmother ensured she left with everything she brought into the marriage. “Uncanny, huh?”
“I swear. I know people. I can have him—”
“Please,” I interrupted, my chin trembling as emotion clogged in my throat. “The best thing I can do is forget about him. He doesn’t matter anymore.”
Before I could protest, she pulled me into her arms, wrapping me in the warmth of her embrace. Then, the dam broke. As I sobbed, she whispered words of affirmation into the air.
I was worthy.
I was strong.
I was special to her.
“And you are better without that stupid Jay-Z wannabe asshole.”
Pulling back, I flashed a watery smile. “Grandma, stop.”
She wiped my cheeks with her thumb. “I could rap better than that muthafucka,” she continued.
“His parents should’ve told him the truth instead of making him think he could do anything.
I can’t imagine a United States senator being okay with his son wasting all his money on a failed career in hiphop.
Sounding like a broke Kendrick Lamar. He’s definitely not like us. ”
I laughed. “What do you know about Kendrick?”
Waving a hand, she said, “Girl, I know all about him.” She did a little shoulder shimmy. “I play his music all the time. I can barely understand the words, but I get the gist. Highly intelligent young—”
The door swung open, drawing our attention to it. Granny Joyce barged in. “Okay, Liv, what do you want me to do? I have that fundraising event tomorrow, but we can take a trip to Ypsi to handle that business.”
Eyes wide and mouth open, Grandma stared at her friend.
Granny Joyce approached us. “What? I got your text.” She glanced at Grandma, then at me. “Did I miss something? Was it a false alarm? Is the asshole still alive?”
“Fortunately for me, no.” Grandma stood, giving her friend a quick pat on the back. She grabbed the folder on the desk in the corner. “Already called the lawyer.”
“Good.” Granny Joyce grimaced. “I’m sorry, Albany. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” I assured her. “I know how Grandma feels.”
The entire world knew how Grandma felt about her exhusband. At any given moment, she would hurl a not-so-veiled insult at the man. It was no surprise that Granny Joyce hated the man just as much. The two had a strong bond and neither one of them hesitated to be there for the other.
“But you don’t know this.” Grandma handed me a piece of paper. “I’m now officially a widow.”
Glancing at the document, I scanned it. Divorce papers. But … I peered at her. “It’s not signed.”
“No, it’s not,” she confirmed.
Granny Joyce grinned. “I’m prepared to be in attendance when you show up at that funeral and tell that homewrecker who the real wife is.”
“Wait.” I blinked. “I thought you divorced him years ago?”
Grandma raised a brow. “And give him my money? I don’t think so. There’s one thing my not-so-beloved husband always forgot. Never underestimate my petty. Your grandfather came into our marriage broke and he died broke.”
“But—”
“It’s okay, Pooh.” Grandma pulled me into a quick, reassuring hug. “There’s a lot you don’t know. I want to tell you everything, but I don’t have time right now.” She shot Granny Joyce a strange look before extending her hand to me. “Come on.”
I slipped my hand in hers. “Where are we going?”
She led me toward her bedroom door. “You’re going home. It’s past my bedtime, and I’m sure you have work to do.”
“But—”
“No buts, Pooh. Besides, I have business to discuss with Joyce.”
When I looked back at Granny Joyce, she grinned. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” she assured me. “By the way, have you made any progress on that crazy Ms. Tea?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t.”
My hesitation about the job intensified after I’d run into Wes at the café—until I received an overdraft alert from my bank in the middle of that tense conversation. I still wasn’t convinced, but I was still broke. So, there’s that.
“Albany?”
I blinked. “Huh?”
Granny Joyce approached me. “Are you okay?”
Nodding, I said, “Yes. I should probably get going.”
Another glance passed between my grandma and Granny Joyce. Something didn’t feel right. I heard what Grandma said, but … Is she really okay?
“What’s wrong?” I asked, shifting my gaze between the two women. “It feels like there is something you’re not telling me.”
“Oh, baby girl”—Granny Joyce waved a dismissive hand—“we’re fine. I did have something I wanted to talk to your grandmother about. Business. But that’s all.” She flashed a smile. “Do you need anything from me? I want to be sure that you have the necessary support to settle this assignment quickly.”
The subject change would have been jarring had I not expected it. Granny Joyce was like my grandma in that neither of them could be swayed to have a conversation they didn’t want to have.
Deciding to let this go, for now, I gave her a hug. “Thanks for asking. I’ll let you know if I need something. For now, I’m good.”
“Great,” Granny Joyce said. “I’d like you to attend the fundraising event tomorrow. Everyone will be there, so it’ll give you a chance to observe.”
“I’ll be there.” Turning my attention back to my grandmother, I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Love you, Grandma. I’ll check on you tomorrow.” I waved at them both before I left.
As I made my way back to my car, I thought about the interaction upstairs, the questions that didn’t seem to have good answers. It was clear to me that something was off, and I was determined to figure it out.
Decision made, I grabbed my phone and typed out a text: We need to talk.