Chapter 18
I couldn’t remember the last time I smoked or felt the need to, but tonight I needed something. Inez taught me early the price of making decisions on temporary emotions. The emotions swirling around in my chest, forcing my fingers to lock into a fist, weren’t fleeting. They were permanent.
“I’m going to kill that nigga.”
Ward paused, rolling up, and stared at me. The kind of stare that reminded me it wasn’t wise to get my hands dirty. I was the cash cow, and without me, all this shit crumbled, but as a man, I couldn’t sleep at night until I heard that nigga like he’d hurt mine.
“I’m not asking for permission or taking suggestions. I’m going to kill that nigga.”
I blew the smoke in the air, my neck reclining against the sofa.
I had calmed down, but my stance on the subject hadn’t changed in the days that followed.
Each day that passed, Navie waited, expecting me to treat her differently.
I didn’t because nothing changed. Not when it came to her, but it felt like she looked at me differently.
Maybe she didn’t notice, or she was just that used to pretending she was okay when shit was fucked up.
“You got something on your chest, get it off,” I urged.
“What?”
“You know what, Blue. Let me have it.”
She paused, chin down glaring at me like how the fuck did I know that.
“I’m not mad, but you really hurt my feelings,” she admitted.
“More,” I insisted, because she was still holding back.
“Why the fuck would you think I’m still in love with him?
That’s what you really think . . . of me?
After everything I’ve shown you, that’s the bullshit you let fly out of your mouth!
I wanted so bad to keep that shit to myself, but I didn’t because I love your stupid ass.
Maybe I do have a thing for ain’t shit nigga’s cuz you fuckin’ tried it. ”
I earned it, so I didn’t take offense or crack a smile, no matter how cute she looked, cursing me out. Otherwise, I really would’ve been in the doghouse with no release date.
“Sounds like you’re staying after the election?”
She frowned, rolling her eyes, “You have a lot more to show and prove.”
Tropical Storm Iris forced the city to slow down, giving me time to prove myself.
It didn’t cause as much damage as predicted, but it gave me uninterrupted time at home.
Up until this point, we’d only experienced each other in measured doses.
Navie joked that one of us wouldn’t survive.
Here we were on day three and were both still breathing.
“It’s past your bedtime,” Navie yawned, interrupting the smooth sound of Miles Davis.
“Duty calls, Blue.”
“So does sleep.”
“I’ve gotten more rest in the last few days than I have in years. I’m good.”
“I’m not. We’re out of snacks because you didn’t go to the store.”
“I’m running a campaign and protecting Madison Pointe from bad guys. You didn’t go to the store, fat ass.”
“You’re not the only one busy,” Navie frowned, marching further into my office, “Fallon emails me every day with a new request, and don’t get me started on Dorothy . I haven’t even had time to get my hair done.”
“Yeah, you need to take care of that shit.” Navie flipped me her middle finger as she hopped on the edge of my desk and crossed her ankles.
“What are we going to eat?”
“Order whatever you want.”
“It’s a monsoon outside. How insensitive are you?”
“If we don’t order, they don’t work. Consider it pouring back into the economy.”
“It’s okay not to have a response every once in a while.”
“I’m a politician. I have to have a response. Now put that credit card to use.”
“What do you want?”
I smirked, my ideas gliding from the ink on my notepad. Navie opened the drawer, pulled out my stash of Gummy Bears, and helped herself while tapping on her phone.
“More Gummy Bears. You got the rest.”
“Why do you keep gummy bears everywhere?”
“The same reason you keep fuckin’ them up. They taste good.”
Navie mushed my head and hopped down before disappearing so I could finish my speech. Coltrane wasn’t doing it, and neither was Miles Davis. I even leaned on my man Herbie for inspiration, but my brain was blank. Everything I jotted down sounded incomplete when Navie returned holding a plate.
“Since you won’t come to bed.”
“Is it safe to eat?” I asked, dropping the pen and stretching my arms.
“Ha. Ha. Ha,” Navie grinned, setting the sandwich down.
I expected her to let me suffer alone, but she hopped her ass back on the edge of my desk. She looked so happy, legs swinging, brushing against my forearm every so often.
“Why do you like Jazz so much?”
“It’s soothing. After a long day of talking and listening to other people talk, I get tired of hearing words.”
“Why are the vinyls thrown in the corner?”
I peered over my shoulder, eying the crate. “Haven’t gotten around to making a spot for them.”
Navie didn’t make small talk unless it served her. The only thing her random questions aided tonight was her curiosity about me. It was cute watching her neck swivel from side to side, looking for something else to explore between bites.
Watching her was a distraction from my own frustrations. My words weren’t coming together as I wanted, even after Navie’s world-class sandwich.
“You’ve been chewing that pen like it owes you money. What’s wrong?”
I tossed the pen, watching it bounce off a folder and land somewhere near the edge. “I’m trying to make this point about economic mobility, but it’s not landing.”
Navie reached behind her, picking up the pen I’d tossed in frustration.
“Fancy pen,” she observed before craning her neck to read the inscription, “ Your words are your legacy .”
“Gift from Gram when I got into law school. Speaking of which, I need to call her soon before she curses me the fuck out.”
“Somebody needs to,” Navie smiled, then cocked her head. “Talk to me like you would them.”
“ Them ?”
She shrugged. “The people. Your people. I can’t have you out there embarrassing me, so let’s hear it, Jordan .”
“When we talk about Black businesses, people make it about the money or hustle,” I started, my voice lower now, already pulling her in. “But economics isn’t just about dollars. It’s about access, resources, gatekeepers, and most of us are born shut out.”
Her lips parted, unconsciously, but Navie didn’t interrupt.
“Sociology teaches us how systems replicate themselves. You can have all the talent in the world, but if you can’t access a loan or afford to take a risk, then it doesn’t matter how good your product is.”
Navie’s gaze sharpened, leaning forward.
“The myth is that we all start from the same place, but we don’t. If you’re born in a neighborhood where the schools are underfunded, where grocery stores don’t carry fresh food, where jobs are scarce and everything’s survival, then you’re running uphill…”
Her gaze was hazier now, concentrating on my words, their cadence, and body language.
“And when we support Black-owned businesses,” I continued, my tone gentler, more intimate, “we’re doing more than keeping the lights on. We’re creating visibility for people who’ve only ever seen the door locked, and handing them the key.”
Navie bit her bottom lip, eyes still on mine, and something flickered behind her expression. Hunger, maybe—not just for me, but for the way I saw things.
“I wish you could see yourself when you talk like that,” she muttered.
I pulled her leg so her body would follow. Each foot rested on the side of me, legs gapped open, allowing me to enjoy the view.
“Oh yeah. Tell me what you see?”
She grinned slowly and blushed. “You’re smart as fuck. You know how to break down things in a way that people can understand. That and the conviction in your tone is dangerous.”
“I must’ve nailed it, if you’re being nice.”
“Do you really care about all this stuff, or is this just a power quest for you?”
“I care about people, but I want power too,” I replied, folding my arms to keep my hands from running up her open thighs. “ They haven’t done shit but rig the game. The only difference is, I’m not out to destroy lives.”
“Torturing yourself all night won’t make the words magically appear,” Navie’s expression was more serious now. Then she turned off the heat, her face as icy as ever as she stood up. “You’re coming to bed.”
“Job’s not finished, Blue.”
Mischief twinkled in her eyes, taking on the challenge. They softened in a vulnerable way, grabbing my hand, pulling me out of my seat. The cherry on top was her turning left for my bedroom.
My arm draped around Navie’s waist, hand resting just below her ribcage. We rested naturally, no longer pretending there was a line in the sand.
“I hope you know we’re not sleeping down the hall anymore.”
Navie giggled, but it sounded more like a snort.
“Kidnapping me again, huh?”
Kissing the side of her face, I closed my eyes, allowing her soft warmth to make me forget that I didn’t finish my speech.
The sunlight bleeding through my curtains woke me up.
I didn’t feel her warm skin or traces of cocoa butter.
My eyes opened fully, swinging my feet to the floor.
Curious how she managed to slip away without waking me, I padded down the hallway.
I was ready to scold her for disobeying my order until I noticed her behind my desk.
“You sent me to sleep so you could break into my shit?” I asked, voice still rough from sleep.
“Yep, stealing everything I’ll need for my next move.”
I smiled. “Still might press charges on your ass.”
“Please, you’d be posing as my lawyer to get me out. Again .”
I walked in and leaned over her shoulder to see the screen.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking over. Jordan needed rest.” My laptop sat open in front of her, papers and index cards spread across the desk, “You don’t need more numbers here,” she mumbled to herself, fingers tapping the keyboard. “You need a story. Something that makes them care.”
My head tilted before asking, “How the fuck did you get into my computer?”