He Who Is a Friend (Sadik Book 1)

by Love Belvin

  Farther into the room was another lounge set of sofas and coffee tables, only larger. To the right of that was an enclave with a pool table sandwiched by two mounted flat screen televisions. Beyond that was a large office setting. But it was in the billiard area that I found what looked to be a private dynamic that had me turning and bumping right into the muscled flesh of Sadik.

  “Right over there, baby,” his voice was soft, masking strain as he pointed.

  With him now in front, leading me by the hand, we ambled deeper into the enclave where a slender, dark-skinned woman, with a short cut similar to mine, lay stretched out on the side of the pool table, taking selfies. A man stood at the front of the table, leaning over another slim woman with a skintight mini-dress on as she attempted to hit the billiard ball with the stick. His chin was planted in her neck, his right fingers trickling up her thighs.

  The woman giggled. “Earl, stop it. You’re gonna make me mess up, Daddy.”

  The man’s attention was on us first. His eyes—familiar feline eyes—roved up my frame with palpable indifference that chilled my bones. Slowly, his spine erected, and my breath hiked at the DNA revelation. It was him. Earl Ellis. His son’s resemblance to him was uncanny in person. His eyes, they were greener than his son’s but just as mesmerizing, and far more daunting. He rounded the table in his approach while his gaze was glued to us, the tips of his long fingers grazing the leg and thigh of the first woman splayed on the frame of the pool table. It reached high near her pelvis, clad in silk shorts.

  “Sadik.” He reached for his son’s hand.

  “Mr. Ellis.” They shook hands with an air of formality that made their chemistry pretty cool.

  “Glad you’re home again,” Earl greeted.

  “I am,” Sadik grinned, then air stroked his arm from me to his father. “With Ms. Bilan Asad-Yasin.” He regarded me from behind, his head over my shoulder as he grounded me with a firm palm at my hip. “Honey, meet my overseer, Earl Ellis.”

  My shaky arm pushed out for a shake. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Ellis.” My voice just as unstable. “Your home is beautiful.”

  “As is my son, Ms. Asad-Yasin. We can’t deny that.” He pulled my hand to his face for a kiss. “Welcome,” he delivered in a softer tone before releasing me. His regard went back to his son. “I think we still have some time before dinner. You want to embarrass your old man on the fake green?” He gestured the pool table. “Nena just whooped my ass, and my lil’ Diane over there’s right on her way.”

  “Nah,” Sadik answered. “I want to take Bilan around to meet everyone before dinner. You guys have fun.” He acknowledged the girls, who were both observing intently and eagerly waved at us.

  “I think your mother made seafood salad for the kid.” Earl waggled thick, shaggy brows he gave his son as he chuckled. “Be careful; that’s how she’s able to work her magic on your old man.” He winked, and I gulped down air.

  “We’ll see you in a few, man,” Sadik offered before prompting me to go.

  I was muted, sauntering out of Earl’s “lair.” Stunned into utter silence. With my hand nestled in Sadik’s, I simply followed his lead as we traveled the opulent palatial halls, our footsteps rhythmically synced until we turned into an open room with carpet and soft toned furniture and décor.

  “Uncle Deek!”

  “Uncle Deek!” two petite voices cried successively.

  Little bodies dashed toward us. It was them. His nieces, and boy were they gorgeous in living color. One was taller than the other, both dressed in pretty A-line dresses. The oldest wore yellow Converses with white, ribboned ankle socks. The smaller one with the same socks, but with Mary Jane style shoes.

  Sadik dropped to his haunches. “Hey, Ivy! Whaddup, Eshy!”

  I watched him greet them, their evidentiary love for this man on display. Quickly, I felt like an interloper and averted my attention to the two adults in the room. A stately chocolate woman sat curtsy on the sofa with one heeled foot ahead of the other. Her spine was upright and her smile dazzling. I could tell, even from her sitting posture that she, too, wore an A-line dress. Black with white polka dots and a yellow belt at her tiny waist. Her dark, crinkled hair shiny and pushed back into a tight ponytail.

  On the other side of the room, dressed in a suit as he always was in the Googled pictures of him, Sadik’s brother held a tumbler of clear liquid as his elbow rested on a hanging ledge. His chin was low, eyes narrowed. He watched silently, seemingly unaffected.

  “Iesha, Ivana, you remember Bilan?” Sadik asked the girls.

  “It’s Ms. Bilan,” the woman, who I believed to be their mother, lightly scolded Sadik.

  He took it well, smiling at her playful scowl.

  “Ms. Bilan,” he corrected. “You remember her?”

  The little one nodded. The oldest one played with the lapel of Sadik’s suit jacket as she answered, “Yes.”

  I remembered her being a little less welcoming than her younger sister. I guessed I would, too, if I had an uncle dote on me the way Sadik did them. And I now understood his doting: he took them to Disney to celebrate progress reports from school, and took me to Central America to celebrate my graduation with passionate sex and mind-blowing orgasms. I now, too, felt a bit territorial myself. I quickly decided to build an alliance with both girls and not allow the awkward wedge between the oldest and me to fester.

  I dropped to a knee alongside my boyfriend. “It’s nice to finally meet you face to face.” I asked the smaller beauty, “Are you Ivana?” She shook her head. “Then you must be Iesha. My best friend back in grammar school’s name was Iesha. She was the first friend I made. I was sad when her family moved out of state and we lost touch. It’s nice meeting a new and prettier one.”

  Iesha’s shoulders went up as she unleashed the biggest smile.

  “And you, Ms. Ivana,” I turned to the oldest. “You have style. I love how you paired those ‘Verses with this gorgeous dress.” I smiled at her.

  Ivana shrugged, eyes still on her uncle’s person. “My mommy picked it out.”

  Her father snorted across the room.

  Ignoring that dig, I explained, “But it takes someone with the right amount of grace and finesse to pull it off. Mommy’s always know best. And we can see yours is no different. You look very pretty, Ivana.”

  Finally, her pretty, jet black button eyes were on me, and I could sigh out loud if I wasn’t so nervous already. Sadik, beside me, stood and placed a supportive hand on my shoulder.

  “Monica, Iban, please welcome my Bilan.”

  Iesha came to my side and took my hand as I stood nervously for what I believed would be an awkward introduction. Iban pushed against the ledge with a lazy neck, his head dipping as he made his way to his wife, then they approached us in a joint manner.

  “Bilan, honey, this is my big brother, Iban,” he informed.

  I forged a smile and offered my hand. Iban, like Earl, was taller than Sadik. Iban’s eyes were a light brown, at best. Like their father, he had all his hair. Only Iban’s was honey blonde mixed with brown like his younger brother’s, creating an orange hue; a low cut with a precise shape-up. He was inarguably handsome and did resemble his brother.

  Iban met my palm with a nod. “Bilan.”

  “And this is, Monica, the best sister-in-law I could ask for, for my big brother and nieces,” Sadik charmed Monica, but spoke directly to me. “We’re expecting another.”

  “Oh,” I breathed.

  Two new babies for the Ellis clan…

  “Do we know what it is yet?”

  Monica shook her head. “Not yet. But I’m so happy to finally have a fellow sister brought home by an Ellis son.” She actually ignored my proffered hand and took me at the shoulders, pulling me into a hug. “It gets better day by day. They’re not as tough as they appear, outside of the streets. You’ll be fine,” her words so faint, I almost missed them.

  I returned her enfold, confused yet undeniably comforted by her forged sisterhood. We releas
ed one another and immediately resumed the tension in the room.

  “Your shoes are pretty,” Iesha complimented next to me.

  I glanced down to my shoes, forgetting I had any on for a moment.

  “Oh.” I stretched my ankles, observing the nude “Choca” Christian Louboutin sandals Sadik had waiting for me after our long shower, a few hours ago. When I toed back into his bedroom, they were propped on the bed next to the cropped black suit and ivory blouse I was wearing. In fact, Sadik had several ensembles and shoes for me in his two-level walk-in closet. He wasn’t around when I discovered it, I guessed to avoid my questions of his generosity—or fetish—of women’s fashion. “Thanks. They’re pretty comfy, too, thankfully.” I smiled down at her.

  “Oh, look at this bullshit the wind blew in,” Iban teased, and a friendlier tone sounded behind me. His smile wide. “Lil’ ass troublemaker thinking she moving out. I got something else for that ass, though.”

  “Auntie!” Ivana shouted before taking off.

  “That’s our Auntie Taaliba,” Iesha explained, hands still inside of mine.

  “Oh, nice!” I turned, as everyone else had for the incoming attraction.

  Like me, Taaliba had a pixie cut. Hers longer at the top, thick spikes curling up and toward her forehead. It was wild and incredibly cool. As she swung Ivana in a circle by the entrance of the room, I observed her mocha skin so unlike her father and brothers. She was slender, too, even more than Monica. Taaliba covered her frame in an oversized, feminine cut t-shirt hanging from one shoulder, blue boyfriend jeans, and cherry red Ase Garb loafers. On her wrists were layers of bones and skulls, beaded bracelets of varying materials and colors. Her ears were bare, neck decorated in a red choker.

  When her eyes finally came up from her elated niece, I was able to see she, too, had yellowish eyes. I couldn’t tell if they were comprised of the green, yellow, hazel, and a cloud of orange like her brother’s, but knew it was a strong possibility. All three Ellis siblings were identifiably related and shared a DNA pool, they all just didn’t present with the same features.

  Taaliba received Iban first as he was now closer to her. Monica advanced to the duo and was greeted next. Iesha was off to her auntie for love when her mother was finished. Taaliba stopped en route to Sadik. Her stance was like a dude’s, though her essence was of a young woman. She was almost like Rory, but diluted in boyish mannerisms.

  “Whitcho cool ass,” she hissed with a blank face.

  “Get yo’ pretty ass over here,” he returned harshly and affectionately as she continued his way with extended arms.

  Taaliba dove into his chest like a child. He received her, embracing her little frame with closed eyes as he kissed her forehead.

  “Costa Rica, huhn?” Taaliba asked. “Did you know out of—maybe—one hundred thirty volcanoes, they have about ten still active? You couldn’t invite a bitch. Coulda blown some proper leaves with you.”

  “I was blowing alright. Just not leaves. And we had a clear view of one. Meet my Bilan,” he murmured over her head.

  Taaliba’s grip still appeared tight as she returned, “She’s dope, Deek—not that I expected anything less. Still can’t believe you brought someone home.”

  He scoffed. “Then tell her that shit. Greet my lady, knucklehead.”

  “Sorry,” Taaliba finally acknowledged me. “I haven’t seen my big brother in a while.”

  Monica interjected. “It’s been less than two weeks.”

  “Feels like an eternity. I’m sure you know,” she addressed me. “Taaliba, this guy’s favorite sister.”

  I chuckled at that as I met her splayed palm and returned, “He’s right; you’re gorgeous, Taaliba. I’m Bilan.”

  “Thanks, B. Nice to meet you. You’re gonna have to give me lessons on how to arrest the attention of a dude like this one.” She used her thumb to gesture to her brother.

  My eyes grew wide. I was effectively embarrassed. That was hard to do when I didn’t know how I’d gained Sadik’s attention in the first place.

  “What the hell ever,” Sadik graveled, taking my side, his palm protectively at my hip again. “We have a few minutes. Let me go find the queen and let her bless my lady before we break bread.”

  We left out of the grand room as the siblings exchanged familial jokes on the way.

  “Monica is sweet, and Taaliba’s cool,” I noted out loud to him as we trekked the halls I could easily get lost in. “Iesha likes me, but I still have Ivana and her dad to win over.”

  He pulled me into his hard frame by my shoulder. “You were perfect, baby. Give them time. They’ll be fine.”

  His confidence warmed me. As we traveled, it dawned on me how varied the Ellis children’s personalities were. Iban’s was, undoubtedly, the coarsest. Taaliba’s delivery, like her middle brother’s, vacillated between lax and articulate. Many would say the same about Abshir and me. My father said it was because I stayed in books, broadening my vocabulary versus my brother, who cured his boredom with video games. It was as though the Ellises had different educational backgrounds.

  Just as I was about to ask Sadik about that, we turned a corner just a few yards away from a couple in front of a mirror on the wall. The woman held her hair in the air while the guy, intimately close to her, latched a necklace onto her neck. He ended the task with a kiss of adoration just above where he settled the fine jewelry.

  As we traveled closer, I could hear them.

  “Okay,” she breathed, gazing into the mirror. “Sadik should be here. I wonder if they’re unpacking upstairs.”

  His hands were at her shoulders, fingering through her blonde tresses. “You’re nervous. You serve your family dinner three times a week, and tonight you’re nervous.” He kissed the side of her face. “You’re perfect. Dinner’ll be perfect, too. Just relax.”

  The closer we drew, two things happened: Sadik’s clench around my shoulder deepened, and the man began to resemble someone I knew.

  “You always say that,” she snorted.

  The man reached down and whispered something into her ear, his pelvis now embedded in her ass and hands on her shoulders. The woman giggled, no doubt at salacious words of promise to her.

  “You say that just before I serve my family,” she shrieked girlishly, though her vocals were as deep as a seasoned woman.

  We were on them when it was all made clear.

  “Queen,” Sadik greeted after clearing his throat.

  She turned our way, and so did her obvious lover.

  “Tom Banks?” I trilled lowly.

  “Oh. Hey, Bilan!” His animated eyes bounced from Sadik to me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you—” My eyes went to a woman who was, without a doubt, the mother of my lover. She didn’t give him her dark brown eye color, but she had naturally blonde hair; it sprouted from her thin sideburns and tinted brows. But her skin was a rich, radiant brown. Just odd genetic traits.

  “You know him?” Sadik asked rather low. Too low to say there were two other people just feet away.

  I couldn’t speak at first. Tom Banks was the boyfriend to the old friend, Iesha, I just told his niece about. I went to school with this guy. This night couldn’t get any more bizarre for me.

  “And so, this is Bilan?” the woman mused out loud. Her laced fingers were at her pelvis line as she flashed the smile that made my heart do somersaults each time her son unleashed it on me. “Welcome to my home. I’m so glad to finally meet you, dear.”

  Behind her, Tom looked uneasy each time he regarded Sadik. The way Sadik’s body was angled disregarded him.

  Okay, so we’re in agreement this is grossly inappropriate?

  ∞19∞

  The Ellis family was certainly a beautiful group. I tried to recall a family with so many exotic features without the evidence of European mixing in their bloodline. The undertones of both Earl and Irene were of Black people. Even Sadik, with both striking eye and hair color, didn’t resemble anything but a Black man.
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  That was the one thing I tried to focus on while at the immaculately decorated table topped with candles, gold rocks, crystal goblets, fine china, and fresh flowers. The table sat fifteen people and required five staff members to serve. Along the table were bowls of all types of dishes that, apparently, Irene prepared with her kitchen crew. On my plate was seafood salad, roasted asparagus, and grilled swordfish. The aged Malbec Irene had flown in from some winery I wasn’t familiar with was far more appetizing than anything on my plate.

  Over and around me, conversations flowed fluidly. No one affected by the obvious breach of marriage the parental Ellises had been committing. Earl was at the head of the table and Irene at the foot. To the left of him were his young girlfriends, Diane and Nena, who lightly participated in conversations with people other than themselves and Earl. To the right of Earl was Sadik, then me. It was very clear to me already that Earl was fond of Sadik. The way he looked his son in the eyes when speaking to him about casual topics was with fondness and admiration. Next to me was Iesha, chowing down. Her sister sat next to Nena, across from us. To the left of her were her parents. On the right side of my Iesha was her aunt, Taaliba, then Tom. Of course, Tom sat next to Irene.

  The most uncomfortable time was during seating. Both parents wanted Sadik. Palpably hesitant, he chose his father, citing business talk being the reason. Ironically, not a word of business was discussed. I knew because I ear-hustled, wanting to see if Sadik lied to me about being in business with his father. What had I gotten myself into? Why was I here? Another night at his lush pad would have been perfect for me. Just the two of us. No…mess.

  “Baby, try the fish with mango sauce,” Sadik requested softly with loads of endearment.

  I glanced up from my plate and collided with yellowish eyes shooting uncompromised energy. He held a fork of fish to me. Sadik noticed I hadn’t eaten. I didn’t like the idea of being fed here. The last thing I needed from his father, who hadn’t spoken a word to me since we made it into the dining room, and his brother, who shot me the nastiest glances at times, was them knowing about the handicap I had with eating.