He and Courtney wrapped up their business, and after she left, I said, “So, you gonna tell me what’s got you being an asshole to Don? That’s your boy!”
“Man…”
“Ev, you don’t have to go on this tour if you don’t want to. You’ve done enough.”
“Humph, tell that to my bills.”
“Nigga, ain’t you a billionaire? Your bills are good!”
He sighed.
“Look, I know this has been your way of life for a long time—work, work, and more work—but you been at it since you were a kid, trying to take care of everyone. You ain’t gotta do that no more, Ev. Leland is stable. Nolan is stable. Shit, quiet as it’s kept, Nole’s ass probably richer than you at this point.”
Everett chuckled. “The way he is with money? You ain’t lying.”
“Kat’s got Tommy, her business, that little security firm Tommy’s starting up. Plus, they’re both on Leland’s payroll now.”
“Yeah…”
“And I’m good. I know you don’t believe me, but I am. You don’t have to do this tour.”
“It’s already booked, Neil.”
“But have the dates been announced?”
His brow wrinkled. “No.”
“Then unbook it! You don’t have to do the tour. You don’t have to do shit but be with Jo and the kids. I know that’s what you really want. You been talking about retiring soon anyway, haven’t you?”
He fixed his eyes on me for a minute or two before smiling. “When the fuck did you become the sensible one?”
I chuckled. “I’ve always been the sensible one, Ev. My sensibility was just hidden under gallons of liquor and mountains of bad decisions.”
He nodded. “Thanks for the talk, Neil. I’ma think about it, run it by Jo. She and the babies were supposed to come on tour with me so we could do some of the Mrs. South songs, too, but I ain’t really with putting her through all that. I don’t know…”
“I know you’ll do what’s best for her. That’s your thing—taking care of the people you love.”
“I try.”
I stood to leave. “You do more than try. Way more.”
“Aye, you good for real, though?” His voice stopped me in my tracks.
I smiled and nodded. “Better than I’ve been in years.”
3
Damn, I missed this place.
I could still remember when I shared this dream-come-true with Everett, way back when I was in college. There was a bookstore around the corner from the Romey U campus—Henley’s Books. It was black-owned and housed stacks and stacks of rare books. I might’ve been a fuck-up, but I’d always loved reading. I told Everett that was my dream—to own a bookstore, and eventually, he made it happen.
“Welcome to Kitabu! How may—oh! Mr. McClain! I wasn’t expecting you! It’s been a while. Wow! You look good!” Jennifer gushed. She was a college student just like all my other employees were. Look at my ass, talking about my employees when Everett still held the deed to the place, just in case.
I gave her a smile. “Thank you. Just popping in to see how things are going.”
“Things are going great! Of course, Jackie would know that better than me, but she’s off today.”
Jackie was my manager, had worked at the store since it opened ten years earlier, and was now working on her PhD. “That’s fine. I talked to her the other day.”
“Oh, yeah! She mentioned you saying you’d be more hands-on with this place soon.”
“Yeah, that’s the plan. Well, I’ll leave you to it.”
She smiled at me and nodded, and I left the store, my footsteps lighter than they’d been in a long time. Maybe Mother Erica was right. Maybe I could do this, have my old life back.
Maybe I wouldn’t fuck things up this time.
I sat on Jo’s nice sofa, my eyes on the huge painting of her and Big South that hung on the wall. I wasn’t sure what I felt in that moment. Acceptance? Resignation? It wasn’t sorrow, for sure. I’d already phased out of anger. This was unfair, but the high-priced lawyer Jo was walking to her front door hadn’t said anything more than what I already knew. Of the ways to get a green card, marriage was the most efficient and the quickest. Efficient. I smiled at his usage of that word. He also told us that I wasn’t eligible for employer sponsorship, because one: I didn’t have an employer or even the prospect of an employer. And two: I would have to possess some vital skill or be indispensable. The employer would have to vouch for the fact that they couldn’t find a US citizen to fill my shoes. I did makeup. That was my one and only skill, so…
I sighed, shifting my eyes from the painting to Bridgette, who sat across from me in an accent chair, her eyes on me. She looked so concerned, sympathetic.
“I’m straight, Bridgette,” I lied. “It’s whatever.”
“No, you’re not, and that’s okay. This is a fucked-up situation that you didn’t create. Motherfucking Donald Trump…”
I chewed on the side of my lip to keep from crying. I was so damn sick of crying. “I…”
“I’ve got it! You’re gonna marry one of the bodyguards, and you guys can live in the guest house,” Jo announced, once she made it back into the living room and plopped down on the sofa next to me.
“Damn, that’s actually a good idea!” Bridgette chimed in.
“But which one? Chink is already married,” Jo mused.
“He is? When does he ever see his wife?” Bridgette asked.
“Girl, get this...she’s a bodyguard, too. They have the same schedule and hook up on their off days.”
“She must be huge! Who does she work for?”
Jo shrugged. “That Paré chick, I think.”
“Aw, shit. She and Paré probably fucking, then.”
“Oh, they probably are! Back to the issue at hand…Oba’s married but separated…”
“Damn, really?”
“Yeah. Uh, Black? I think he’s single. I can check with Ev about him and—”
I stood so quickly, I think I startled my friends, because they both jumped in their seats. “You don’t have to do this.”
“But I want to,” Jo said. “We can pay them to marry you.”
I chuckled dryly and shook my head. “I’m not that desperate, Jo.”
But I was.
Her brow furrowed. “I’m not trying to insult you. I just wanna help. I want you to stay here with us. This country is your home.”
I looked at her, then swung my eyes over to Bridgette as they filled with tears. “I know, and thank you, but…it’s okay. It really is.”
But it really wasn’t.
I left with my friends on my heels, begging me to stay. I probably should’ve stayed, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t breathe in that big, spacious house. I couldn’t think straight with so much weighing on me. I needed to get out of there if only to sit in my shitty little Toyota and stare into space. But more than anything, I needed to accept my fate, to let my friends off the hook, and to just...cry.
*****
“Where’ve you been, and why haven’t you been answering your phone?! I was about to file a missing person’s report!” Bridgette yelled into the phone. And she called me loud? “I haven’t seen or heard from you in like three days! Where’ve you been staying? A hotel?”
“I needed to clear my head, and I wasn’t going to be able to do that in your house with you and Jo plotting my escape. I appreciate y’all helping me, but it is what it is, Bridge, and I’m okay with it. I’ve tried everything. I did the best I could. I’ll just go to Liberia and make a life there and things will be fine. My parents are going back there soon, so at least I’ll have them, and I’ll get to meet some of my relatives I’ve never met. Shit, the food is gonna be lit for sure, and who knows? Maybe the man of my dreams is there.”
“Are you serious? I mean, you’ve been so upset about this, and now you sound like you’re good with it.”
“I’m not necessarily good with it; I just know it’s inevitable, and I’m trying to
look at the pros rather than the cons. Pro: African men are fine.”
“With big dicks.”
“The biggest dicks. That’s pro number two. Pro three: the climate will be great for my skin. Pro four: I’ll get to eat my mom’s cooking all the time since I’ll probably be living with my folks. Pro five: I’ll finally get to see my homeland. I’ve always wanted to, but just to visit…” Those last words caught in my throat and made my voice quiver. I was totally the-fuck not okay with this, and now Bridgette knew.
“Sage, Jo and I figured this out. Can you come home so we can talk about it?”
I took a deep breath, released it, and blinked furiously to keep the tears at bay. Then I focused on the outside of the boutique I was parked in front of. I was getting ready to go in there and beat the owner’s face in preparation for a commercial shoot. The thought of painting on her pretty canvas made my pulse jump. Then I scanned the outside of the building, noting the palm trees that surrounded it, closed my eyes, and breathed in the not-so-fresh LA air that flowed through the open car window. This was home, and I loved it here. I had good friends, and I made good money doing what I loved. I didn’t want to leave, would honestly do anything to stay, even marry one of those gigantic-ass bodyguards of Jo’s.
So I said, “I’m headed to see a client. Be home in a couple of hours.”
My eyes rounded Nolan’s and Bridgette’s living room, focusing on my friends’ faces. “Are y’all serious?”
Jo nodded. “Yes. Dead serious.”
With a confused frown glued to my face, I dropped my eyes to my lap. “Well…does he know about this?”
“Neil? Yes, of course he does.” Jo said.
“And he’s okay with it? I mean, he said he’d do it?” I asked.
“Yes, Sage. We wouldn’t be telling you about it if he hadn’t. If you’re willing, he’s willing. That’s what he said.”
I raised my eyes again. “Why?”
Jo smiled at me. “Because his big brother asked him to do it, and because he wants to help.”
“He said that?” I asked. “That he wants to help?”
Jo nodded.
“Wow, I don’t know what to say. You guys are serious?” Marrying a bodyguard was one thing, but marrying a McClain? That had never crossed my mind, but it was a freaking dream come true. Neil was fine as hell. Nolan’s twin, but with an edge to him. I preferred thugs, even fake ones like Gavin, but Neil could definitely get it if we had a real, organic relationship which this would definitely not be. That thought doused my spirits. My friends had men who loved them, married them for that reason. I was getting a pity husband. Par for the course for me.
“You just asked that, and again…yes, Sage! We’re serious, and we’ve got it all planned out. I know you always talked about having a big wedding, so that’s what you’re going to get,” Bridgette said.
“Ev and me are gonna handle the cost,” Jo interjected.
Bridgette nodded. “And I’m planning the wedding week festivities. Nolan’s footing that bill.”
With wide eyes and an overwhelmed brain, I asked, “When would we do this?”
“In two weeks,” Bridgette said.
My mouth fell open. “Y’all can pull this off in two weeks?”
“With Ev’s money? Yeah!” Jo said.
I reclined on Bridgette’s sofa, my mind racing with thoughts. Where would I live? With Neil? Were we going to really pretend to be married or would we do the wedding thing then he’d disappear? Was Big South paying him to do this? Did it matter? What would my parents think? Did I really care? It wasn’t like I’d made them proud with any of my other life choices, but they’d never said anything about it. I just knew they expected more from me.
“Sage?” Jo’s voice was light, soft.
“Uh…” I said.
“I know this isn’t what you want. I know you wanted to be in love when you got married. I know you wanted to be able to find another way to stay in the states, but this is what we have. Neil’s sweet, and as an added bonus, he’s sober. And as another bonus, if you marry him, we’ll all be sisters. He’s got a great house, and he won’t bother you. He won’t hurt you. Ev will break his neck if he does,” Jo assured me.
I had to laugh at that.
“Girl, please say you’ll do this so things can get back to normal. Your ass has not been yourself. I want my loud, crazy, uncultured friend back!” Bridgette pleaded. “I can’t deal with Liberian Sage whose subjects and verbs agree and who controls the volume of her voice. You haven’t dropped it low since you’ve been living here!”
I rolled my eyes. “I should be insulted, but I’m not. Okay, I’ll do it, but…can I talk to him? I need to hear him say he really wants to do this for my own peace of mind.”
“That can definitely be arranged,” Jo gushed, and then both of my friends attacked me with hugs.
4
Two days earlier...
“Marry—what’s her name again?” I asked, my forehead wrinkled as Nolan and Everett stood over the weight bench I was sitting on.
“Sage, man! Sage Moniba. You know who we’re talking about. The chick that does Jo’s makeup,” Everett said. “She and Jo and Bridgette are real tight.”
I dragged a towel down my face, trying to recall who this chick was. Then I remembered. “The little thick one? Loud as hell? She’s Liberian?”
“Yeah, that’s her. Look, man…if you do this, I’ll consider it a personal favor. Bridgette is so worried about her getting deported, I can’t get no sex.” Nolan was serious about this, too. For real serious.
“Nole, really? That’s what this is about? You want me to marry a motherfucker I don’t know so you can get back in your wife’s panties?”
Nolan nodded. “Basically, yeah.”
Everett shook his head. “Don’t listen to this fool. Look, Neil, she’s good people. Real sweet. Been in the states since she was little. This is the only home she knows.”
“She ain’t got a man?” I asked.
“Not anymore,” Everett said.
I sighed, rubbed my eyes, and dropped my head. “Look, y’all…I understand this is a bad situation for her, but can’t she find someone else? I mean, shit, anyone else but me?”
“Don’t you think she tried?” Everett answered.
“I don’t know her other than seeing her hang with Jo and Bridgette. I just got out of fucking rehab. Hell, I’m still in counseling. You think it’s a good idea for me to enter into a fake marriage right now? Especially with a loud, ratchet chick? I mean, she’s cute, but really? You want me to start drinking again?”
Everett scratched his chin. “I think it’d be good to help someone who needs it. Look, Neil…she ain’t that bad, and she’s from the motherland. I thought you’d be down to help her just for that reason alone, Hotep Howard.”
“Man, fuck you.”
Everett snickered.
“Where we gonna stay? Here? She moving into my room upstairs?”
“No, you got a house.”
“Ohhh, so I get to move back home if I marry her?”
“Yeah. You want your life back? This is how you can get it. I’ll even sign your store and house back over to you.”
“That’s fucked up, Ev. This is fucking blackmail.”
Everett shrugged. “Jo asked me to run this by you. She’s tryna help her girl.”
“And you’ll do anything for Jo, won’t you?”
“That’s my heart. Listen, Jo was thinking about hooking her up with one of the bodyguards, but they all got wives or crazy-ass girlfriends. Then she thought about you, figured it’d be better to pull her into the family anyway, keep her close. That way we’ll know she’s good.”
I hopped up from the bench. I wasn’t done with my workout, but I was damn sure done with this crazy-ass conversation. “Sorry, man. I can’t do it,” I said, and then headed upstairs to shower. An hour later, I was heading out the door to my counseling session with Mother Erica.
*****
It
was a night of tossing and turning, my will, mind, emotions, and destiny battling each other so viciously that I finally climbed out of bed and headed down to the kitchen around 3:00 AM. I was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, reading a book on African spirituality that Mother Erica had suggested, when Everett came into the kitchen.
“What you doing up so early, or late, or shit, whatever it is right now? Lena wake you up, too?” he asked, as he opened the refrigerator.
“She ain’t sleeping through the night yet? Ain’t she like eight months old now?” I responded.
“Nine. And she sleeps through the night, but her little ass pops up before the sun rises, ready to play. That’s my baby, though.”
“And she looks just like you. Jo didn’t have nothing to do with that.”
As he poured a glass of orange juice, he said, “True, true, except for that gap in her teeth and her hair.”
“Yeah…but, uh, she didn’t wake me up. Couldn’t sleep.”
He fell into a chair across from me at the table. “You all right? I mean, you good?”
“Yeah…you wanna do a breathalyzer or something to be sure?” I was being an asshole, but damn, I was tired of no one trusting me despite the truth of me not being trustworthy. Hell, I didn’t even trust my damn self.
“Just checking.”
“Yeah, look…I’ll do it. I’ll marry ole girl.”
He was about to chug that juice but stopped and lifted his eyebrows at me. “You will? What happened in the last less-than-twenty-four hours to change your mind?”
I shrugged. “Had a change of heart.”
“You for real? You not just fucking with me, are you?”
“I mean it; I’ll do it. I wanna help her. Just tell me where to be and what to do. I’m in.”
Everett hopped up and headed out of the kitchen, juice in hand.
“Where you going?” I asked.
“To tell Jo and see if that’ll loosen her ass up. She been holding out on me, worried about Sage. I need some pussy.”
Let Me Free You (McClain Brothers Book 4) Page 2
