Chapter Fifty
Kwame
Yellow Brick Road
It’s taken me three weeks to make this call but as soon as my father answers the phone, my doubts about what I’m doing disappear.
“Son. To what do I owe this surprise?”
“I’ll come to Palm Sunday.”
“Heh!” he shouts and then switches the call to video. He’s standing in the bathroom with a towel around his waist. His face is half covered with shaving cream. “Do you mean it?”
I laugh at the astounded grin on his face. “Yes. I mean it.”
He claps his hands together and peers at the phone. “That’s my boy. I knew you’d see sense.”
“I’m glad you’re happy because I need something from you first.”
He laughs out loud. “Finally, you’re learning. What do you want?”
I sigh and look toward the bedroom where Sin is getting dressed and singing along to “If I Ruled the World” at the top of her lungs.
My heart skips a beat. I’d do anything to keep her singing, hopeful, happy.
“I’ll come to the party as long as you let go of your grudge against The Sackeys.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you want me to come to Palm Sunday,” I answer simply.
He scoffs. “Don’t play prosecutor with me, Kwame. You know what I’m asking. Why would you want me to do that?”
“Because I’m in love with their daughter.”
He sputters. “How?”
“Mom introduced us,” I say, and my smile is irrepressible.
“How?”
“Dad, I know you. I’ve got about three minutes before another call cuts in and interrupts us. I’ll tell you the how when I see you, but I just need you to understand that I love her. She’s a journalist.”
He makes a choking sound. “Why?” he huffs.
I cough to cover my laugh at his reaction. “You can ask her that. She’ll be with me at the party and before that, I want you to grant her an interview. About the house and you. Let her take pictures of the house, tell her your story, and let her write an article about it.”
“Fine. But there will be conditions and she will have to sign several nondisclosures,” he says with a grim face.
I lean in and eye him. I’d come prepared to fight for this. “So…you’ll do it?” I ask stunned at how easy that was.
“Yes. I’m getting a call. Put her people in touch with mine. See you in two months.”
“See you.”
“Oh, and Happy Birthday.”
I blink. “You remembered.”
“Of course. Did you think it was your mother who sent you a card every year?”
“Frankly, yes.”
He rolls his eyes. “Typical. Speak soon.” And then he’s gone.
“I think I like being a kept woman,” Sin declares when I walk into the kitchen. We had a quiet dinner at home and she’s loading the dishwasher.
“Is the kept woman in the room with us now?” I ask and look pointedly at the stack of tile samples in front of her. “You’ve been working harder on this house than I have since I’ve lived here.”
“It’s beautiful. Thank you for letting me have free rein over it.”
“I have another present for you.”
She leans back and her eyes light up. “Kwame, you’re spoiling me. You’ve already given me so many gifts today. I only got you one thing.”
“It’s something money can’t buy,” I say as casually as I can.
“We’re going on a double date with Jay-Z and Beyoncé.” Her eyes light up.
“No. I think this might be better.”
“Well shit! Tell me, then!” She nudges my shin with her toe.
“I’m glad you like it here, and I’m glad you’ve enjoyed being a domestic goddess but are you ready to get back to work?”
She puckers her lips and leans a hip on the counter. “Do you have a job for me?”
“No, but I have something that could help you get one.” I stroll to the fridge so my back is to her and let my smile free.
“I didn’t want to tell you until I had an answer but, my father, he’s agreed to sit down for an interview with you the Friday before Palm Sunday. It could be a bargaining chip to land your next gig. So even if your lead is a bust, you’ll have that. If you’re interested—”
She screams and presses her palms to her cheeks. “Oh my God. Yes, of course. It may not be my heart song, but an interview with Al Palmer about anything would be one hell of a pitch.”
“You’ll have to sign an NDA. He insisted.”
“Done,” she says and takes a shuddering breath. “I can’t believe this. You don’t know what this means to me, Kwame. I would never have asked. But honestly, it’s exactly the kind of break I need.” She swallows hard and her eyes fill with tears. “Thank you so much.”
She throws herself into my arms and hugs me so tight it makes taking a deep breath hard. I love it.
“I’m sorry I didn’t offer sooner.” I hug her back and ignore the twinge of guilt that I didn’t consider it until her back was against a wall. “We’ll leave the Thursday before so we can have a couple of days to ourselves before everyone else arrives. You’ll love The Palms.”
“Kwame. Are you sure?” She peers at me like she’s trying to see inside my skull.
I chuckle and lean away. “For you, yes.”
She frowns. “You said you hate Palm Sunday and The Palms. You don’t have to do this for me. I mean, I’d love to talk to your dad and write about the property. I would never have asked.”
I can tell she means it, and it makes me even more sure I’m doing the right thing. I can trust her with this.
“I want to do this for you. And I need to stop thinking the property has some sort of power over me. It’ll be great.
You can explore, take pictures and when my dad arrives you will get your face-to-face.
His team will reach out, set parameters, conditions.
I’ll look at the disclosure agreements before you sign. Is that okay?”
She nods and then she covers her mouth with her hands to muffle an excited scream.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Yes,” she shouts and then throws herself into my arms. “Thank you, Kwame. This is literally the best gift you could have gotten me. I promise you won’t regret it.”
“I know I won’t.” I wrap my arms around her and press my lips against her neck. I breathe in her familiar sweet scent and pray I’m not wrong.