by Love Belvin
Forget that!
Sadik: www.FaceMe.com
Huhn?
Sadik: Click on the link and download the app to your phone.
I twisted my nose and lips as my eyes went blindly around the back lot. Taking a deep breath, I tapped on the link and went to the site. It led me to Play Store, where I was able to download the app for free with pursed lips. Seconds later, I received a text with a FaceMe six-digit code. I pasted the characters into the app, clicked a few “no thanks,” and then I waited.
“Why did I just do that?” I murmured to myself.
The door opened next to me. It was Pedro and Jose, coming out for a smoke break.
My phone began to vibrate in my hands. With a galloping heart, I tapped to receive a call. The screen transitioned to a live image of—
Sadik…
He was goddamn gorgeous. Just…flying fine as he wanted to be. His rainbow-hued irises glimmered with positive appraisal, full lips commanded my regard far too long. His skinned head smooth and glistening. And his facial hair was like a beard now, more unkempt than it was the last time I’d seen him.
“You hear me?” his croaky voice broke my bubble of attention.
His eyes were tightly narrowed and when my regard shifted lower, I noticed his cheeks were hiked and mouth wider. Sadik was smiling. At me. And man, was he fine!
“Huhn?”
“We gotta get you an iPhone.”
I cleared my throat, blinking away the fog. “Why?”
“Because you need a downloaded app just for me to see your stunning freckles.” His grin was captivating.
Beautiful? I didn’t feel that way. Mechanically, I licked my lips and rubbed them together. Dang… I had nothing to say to that.
“Bilan.”
“Huhn?”
“I don’t have any kids.”
“What?”
“You asked if I had kids with a ‘Z’ in that last text. I don’t have kids.”
“Oh.” That conversation bounced to the front of my mind. “You said princesses and giraffes.” I swallowed, feeling uncomfortable about prying. “You said you’d be out of town for a few days and I thought…”
“I was with my wife and kids?” One russet cheek lifted.
“Or kids’ mother.”
Sadik’s grin deepened, and I could make out him sitting up from a bed. He began to walk, and my eyes windswept the background intently. He was in a large bedroom. A hotel suite?
“Ivana…Iesha, come say hi to my friend,” he called out.
My heart raced and face went tight. The camera was turned, and I saw the coat prints of an animal. After a few movements, I picked up the tip of a rounding beak and churning mouth to what could indisputably be a giraffe. It was eating from the hands of one of the little girls.
One turned to the camera with a shy smile. “Who is she, Uncle Deek?”
“My friend, Bilan,” he answered, out of my view.
The adorable little girl with clear bows and barrettes giggled bashfully. “She’s pretty.”
“Very,” Sadik emphasized firmly. “Are you going to say hello?”
“Hello?” she chirped before falling into another bed of giggles.
The other one, who seemed older by the estimation of her height, turned with a curious expression. “Where she from, Uncle Deek?”
There was no sign of mirth or merriment or bashfulness from this one.
“She’s from Paterson, Ivy—well, Woodland Park,” he explained.
“Oh.” Ivy abruptly swung her head and trunk back to the bigger and better party: giraffe feeding.
“Don’t be mean, Ivy,” the little one scolded.
“I’m not.” I watched the back of her. “She’s cute.”
Then the camera was shifted back to pure handsomeness, but not before I caught someone in uniform assisting with the feeding of the animal. Sadik sauntered away from what I could now clearly see was a balcony.
“Where are you?”
“Disney.”
“With your family?”
“Yeah. My nieces.”
“Just the three of you?”
He shrugged his answer with his brows and mouth. “Ivana is averaging all A’s and B’s on her progress report and Iesha’s on her way to Principal’s List, it seems.”
He lay back down on the bed.
“Oh, wow.” I blinked, out of sorts. “Looks like I was born into the wrong family.”
“Nah. Your way into the Ellis family shouldn’t be through blood. Otherwise, how would I explain the Chanel necklace fantasy coming into fruition?”
An unwelcome smile split my face, and I rolled my eyes away.
“What’s that about?” he asked with humor in his voice.
I scratched my chin. “It’s the baby thing.”
“What about it?” His forehead wrinkled, and even that had my stomach leaping.
“You want to shut down all talks of it unfairly. You tell me to trust you and that you’re not with her. She agreed, but…”
“But what, Bilan?” he barked my name like we’d known each other for years.
Then I looked him square in the eyes, needing to be heard. “But I don’t feel like I know you well enough to trust you.”
“And you won’t know me if you don’t spend time with me.”
I want to. That’s the problem!
“I don’t want to spend time if I’m wasting it because you’re not being straight up with me. Spending time can be risky, and that’s unfair.”
Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately?
“Life ain’t fair, Bilan, but I can damn sure fill yours with spice.” I could have sworn he groaned.
My eyes ballooned and, for a while, I was speechless. I swallowed deeply.
“Thursday. Be ready at four.” His timber was strong, pitch authoritative.
“I work Thursday.”
“Call out.”
I could have pushed back just because…I could have. But did I want to? Instead, I swallowed again, knowing I needed to head back inside. “I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t think too hard.”
I snorted. “I’ll try not to, but what kind of date starts at four in the afternoon? What are we doing? How do I know what to wear?”
“What size are you?”
“Why?”
“You asked about what to wear. What size?”
“In what?”
“Hmmmm…” His orangey golden eyes circled the ceiling. “A dress and shoes—heels.”
“Why? Are you going to buy me something to wear?”
He shrugged with a brow. “Maybe.”
I got the distinct impression that would be all I’d be getting out of Sadik. Plus, I had to go.
“Nine in shoes. I haven’t worn a dress since my mother’s funeral. I’d have to try it on to see if I could still fit it.”
“Text me the size.” His eyes glistened again as they narrowed.
“Whatever. Bye.” I smiled.
“Lata, Bilan.”
I tapped to end the call, my netherland wet, hot, and fluttery.
“Another date with Sadik,” I whispered into the cool air, still not able to get over guys still “dating” nowadays.
When the chat disconnected, I peeped out onto the balcony before tapping to make a call.
I needed to do this before starting shower time with the girls. It was almost eleven at night and their mother, Monica, would have my ass if she knew they were up this late and had dessert twice tonight. It was a good thing I knew she’d never find out. The girls would be in just as much trouble as my ass.
After a few rings, he picked up. “Yeah.”
I sat up from the bed, rubbing the back of my head. “Anything interesting?”
“‘Bout a hour ago, some Fourth Ward niggas ran up in there. Ol’ girl served them and shit got outta hand. Even we could see that shit from the fuckin’ windows. Then two niggas pushed through the doors and chased them lil’ mu’fuckas out.”
>
“Word?” My face went hard. “What two niggas?”
“I got Beats over here with me at the diner today. He recognized one.”
“From where?” He was talking too damn slow.
“Damien’s crew.”
“Damien, Damien?”
“Yeah. Beats said he was locked up with the mu’fucka a few years back.”
“That all you know?”
“Nah. After the shit went down, I caught a waitress leaving out and asked her what all the ruckus was for, and she said they tried to grab ol’ girl’s ass, but her peoples handled it the way they always do.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it, chief—” There was mumbling in the background. “Ahhhh…yeah…” he breathed. “That’s that muthafucka.” He spoke into the phone. “You’ll never believe who pulled up earlier!” Finally, he was lively.
“Who?”
“Damien. He was in the joint for a few minutes, kicking it with shortie.”
Why the fuck would he be there? Michelle’s had been around forever and was a hot spot in the city, especially for niggas like him who tried staying under the radar. His crew ran niggas out of there earlier, and he’d shown? Talking to Bilan?
Strange…
“Vincent Ricci and his brother, fat ass Nicky Ricci, still own that jawn?”
“Yeah. Vincent wife… What’s her name?” he pondered out loud. “Carina! Yeah. That bitch still bad as hell, bruh.” He whistled.
When times got hard for the diner, Vincent used to let my father’s Paterson connect run supply through there discreetly. It happened twice, earning him a few grand a day until he got caught up. Then he’d ask my father to suspend the deal because he was out of hot water. My father would let Vincent stop when he wanted to under the agreement, when the favor needed to be returned, Vincent would comply. It may have been time for me to be sure Ricci didn’t forget his debt to the Ellis family.
“Uncle Deek, he licked my face!” Iesha came into the bedroom crying-laughing.
I winked at her, knowing I needed to go. “A’ight. Keep me up.”
“A hun’ned percent.”
I hung up and followed my niece outside.
I layered a few more pieces of chicken cutlets in the to-go Styrofoam container. Dog ate anything I brought home, but I noticed he’d go for these first. Thank God I worked for a diner; otherwise, I’d go broke trying to feed my home security. I closed it up and grabbed my bag on my way out back.
“See you, Nicky!” I shouted over my shoulder and waited for his usual grunt of an acknowledgment.
Anxiety peppered my nerves as I hiked from the back of the diner to the car in the small parking lot. I rarely drove, didn’t even have a car. When I needed to be somewhere in a timely manner NJ Transit couldn’t meet, I’d take my family’s Corolla. It was old and had belonged to my father. I drove it a lot once he passed to transport my mother to doctor appointments, court dates, and visitation for my brother. And once she died, I pretty much got comfortable with my feet and the bus system. Living in a city had its benefits.
Today was unusual, and the primary source of my jitters. Today was the appointment Sadik had arranged for me. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Going out with a man—as I learned he was ten years older than me—who had a baby on the way. My mother would have never gone for it.
My phone rang in my pocket. I pulled it out, seeing it was Randi.
“Hey, girl,” I answered, now at the car fishing for my keys in my bag.
“Hey. You texted me about my stylist the other day and I forgot to hit you back. I was in the Poconos with Ricky. What you tryna get done?”
My brows lifted, recalling. “Oh. Don’t worry about it. I got an appointment tomorrow morning.”
Sadik called me three days after we spoke on FaceMe to say he had a hairstylist if I needed one. Of course, I did. It just wasn’t something I’d share with him. But I sure did take him up on it. The girl who usually did my hair did it in her house. She’d had a baby two weeks ago and wasn’t available.
There was a beat before Randi replied. As I finally found the keys and pulled them out to let myself into the car, I figured she was busy with something herself. “Oh. Who you going to?”
“Some girl named ShawnNicole.”
“In New York?”
“She has a new spot here in Jersey, but I think that’s her.”
“How the fuck you get in ShawnNicole’s chair?”
I shrugged with my brows, though she couldn’t see me. “I don’t know. You heard about her?”
“Bitch, yeah! She be doing the celebrities’ hair! You ain’t see that video Pixie posted in her chair? That bitch be killin’ Brielle’s wigs, too!”
My heart dropped to my feet. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah! Where the fuck you been?” She laughed. “I ‘on’t think you can afford her hands, Bilan,” she warned. I knew I couldn’t, simply because of who made the appointment. I didn’t have to see her price chart to know that. “Shit! Anyway, I gotta go. I’ll drop by later…got a taste for a BLT.”
Across the small parking lot, on the sidewalk, I saw a familiar physique stapling paper to a wooden pole.
“I’m actually leaving work now. Got an appointment in the city.” My words fell nonplussed as I studied the back of the girl. “First, I need to stop by the house and feed Dog.”
“In the City where?”
“JAGMisha…” The girl turned to the side and I was sure it was her. “…Boutique.”
“Bilan, what the fuck is you doing at that place? You selling bricks I ‘on’t know about?”
That snapped me out of my stalking. “What?”
“You going to ShawnNicole and JAGMisha! Bitch, that’s for the rich and famous! Who the fuck— Sadik?” she deduced. “You fuckin’ with Sadik?” she croaked with disbelief.
“I wouldn’t say that, but yeah…” I blinked a few times. “I’m going out with him tomorrow.”
Again, Randi didn’t respond right away, but this time, I had a feeling it wasn’t from distraction of anything but my words. Why? Why did she make this thing so awkward? Did she know about his baby? Because then, I’d understand.
“Randi.” My attention went back to the sidewalk, where the girl stepped back and studied the paper she stapled before going back and stapling it some more. “I have to go. I see someone I want to talk to.” I started ambling out of the parking lot.
“A’ight, with ya fast ass,” was all she replied, and I hated it.
“Talk to you later. Use my discount for the BLT if you want,” I offered.
When Randi didn’t reply, I hung up, feeling even more awkward. However, the distraction from the girl proved to be greater as I approached her.
“Latasha?” I called out to her on the way. “Is that you?”
When she finally turned, I was relieved that I hadn’t played myself and was heading to a stranger. But something was off about her. Her eyes were red with glaring bags underneath.
“Oh, Bilan,” she tried for a soft soprano, but there was no light in her eyes. I’d known her since we were kids. Our brothers had been friends just as long.
“What’s going on?” My eyes brushed toward the fresh paper she’d just posted.
It was a picture of her brother. My whole body went rigid.
“How long has Lenny been missing?” I asked, fighting against panic as the correlation between her brother’s face and missing status on the pole, and Abshir’s message to Damien a few days ago finally connected.
“Weeks now. The police saying they doin’ everything they can, but they still ain’t found him.” Her eyes welled with tears and suddenly, her disposition made sense.
“I’m so sorry, Latasha. Knowing Lenny, it’s possible he’s fine. He had been laying low over the past few years. Is this just another one of his slips from the surface?”
I recalled Lenny being incognito during Abshir’s trial and sentencing. When my mother asked Abshir about it, he sa
id Lenny had gone into hibernation and not to look for him. That was weird, seeing how cool they were. But just like so much around that time, that brief mention was a blur and insignificant compared to what we were up against with my brother’s sentencing.
She shook her head, answering no. “He was back for good for a few days before he left out for cigarettes, and ain’t never came back.”
This began to sound too similar to the last time I saw my brother outside of police custody. I needed to go and not go back to that painful place.
“Hey,” I tried for an upbeat tone. “You have another one of those? I can put it up on the diner’s board to help.”
“Nah,” she breathed. “That was my last one. I can drop one off to you later, though.”
“I won’t be there, but tell them I said for you to leave it for me. I’ll hang it the next time I’m due in.”
“Thanks, B,” she droned.
“These brothers we have.” I squeezed her upper arm as a mark of connection. “They stay away long enough for us to forget how much they stress us out.” I shrugged with my mouth.
Latasha returned a shrug with her brow. She was markedly distraught.
She stretched her lips, exposing her pearly white teeth as she gaped at me. “I think you’re going to need help to your car.” I glanced down at the large, black matte paper shopping bags with the gold embossed JAGMisha logo bold across the front. There were ten of them. “Where are you parked?” JAG asked.
My eyes roved up to the petite mocha diva standing a yard away in five-inch, multi-strap suede leather sandals, stopping at her chestnut eyes. When I arrived at JAGMisha Boutique, I thought it was just to pick a simple dress and maybe shoes. Apparently, Sadik had other plans I was told while being shown ball gowns in the four-digit price range.
Once that painful task was settled, the shoe selection was easier, thanks to JAG’s knowledgeable assistance. The man left a spending limit still unknown to me. He insisted I be “liberal with my pickings,” according to JAG. When I sent a text to say no thanks, he briskly warned either I picked the clothing I liked or he’d pick what he’d like and have them sent to me. These clothes were hella-expensive! Yeah, I had ten bags, but not one item inside them cost less than fifty dollars. Some were close to a thousand, but JAG said I needed those to pair with my more modest pickings.
