Broken
Page 23
Mrs. Parks walked over to us with a huge smile on her face. “How are you kids doing?”
“Nice,” Noel said.
“Great. Thank you,” I said.
“Has the dessert arrived?” Noel asked.
“Yes, it has,” Mrs. Parks used her index finger to make an exclamation point.
“Nice. I’ll clean this up,” Noel said.
“Milan, would you like to help serve dessert? We’re just getting started.”
“Okay. What is it?” I asked. Noel had a cute smirk on his lips.
“I found it two weeks ago, a small store on the West side. They only have desserts.” I kissed him on the cheek before I got up to go the kitchen. “It is only the closest to Aunt Glenda’s peach cobbler I ever tasted.”
“No way!” I had never even eaten another peach cobbler since Mama.
“Oh, oh. I don’t know Glenda. But somebody, some-bod-ee sure put their foot in that pie,” Mrs. Parks said. I found myself practically skipping behind Mrs. Parks all the way to the kitchen.
My mama took to making peach cobbler every Sunday once Noel came to live with us. It was his favorite. His mother had made him a peach cobbler on his birthday every year. Funny he hadn’t mentioned her pie.
The kitchen was stark white. I kind of liked it, though. Everyone seemed to be jamming to some kind of music. They greeted me with smiles.
“I know you,” a woman putting the plates of pie on a large tray said to me.
“No.” I laughed as I pulled my hair forward to cover my face a little more. There was no Milan cover girl in me, not tonight.
“I’m gonna set you up right here, baby,” Mrs. Parks said. I stood there while Mrs. Parks brought me some plates, pies, forks, and a knife. My favorite part of this kitchen was the antique yellow and black four-burner stove. I’d never seen anything like it. It was right next to the pizza oven. I was more intrigued by this kitchen than the huge empty one at the apartment. Maybe never going back wouldn’t be so bad. I could still see Nana and Grandpapa. And I could write Edna. I closed my eyes for just a few seconds and I was transported to the first Saturday afternoon I came home from skating and followed the smell of peach all the way into the kitchen to find my mother, as picture-perfect as a Vogue cover, in four-inch heels, accessorized to the nines with a dirty apron and spot of flour on her cheek. It was her smile that almost made me flutter my eyes open.
I started cutting the pies. I slowly started to recollect the happening of my current misery. It was Frenchy’s text I saw first. Noel came over and took the tray from my counter to the dining hall. It was so weird. As I stared down at the six pies in front of me, I took up the knife to cut the next one into slices. It was then something tugged at me to check my phone. When I reached for it, it started to vibrate. With the phone in my hand, I looked up at Noel. And, there he was, smiling at me when he was supposed to be handing out pies. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. It was just for a few moments.
The first words in the text message were “CALL ME NOW PLEASE!!!!!”
It was back. The misery. “CALL ME NOW PLEASE!!!!! A publicist I know very well tells me she just got wind about something you and I know to be true. I couldn’t deny nor discuss. I need to know how you want to handle this before we start damage control. My guess is she’s not the only one who knows,” Lisa texted. I felt the knife in my hand drop to the ground. Suddenly, I felt very ill. I found myself walking. I held onto the door jamb at the front. I just needed a breath of fresh air.
I think my hands held onto the gates as I hit the floor. I needed to sit down for a few minutes.
“Winter, I need you,” I texted.
“Wheels up at 5,” Winter texted back.
“I’ll sleep at the port if I have to.”
“I have an address we need to visit.”
“Why?” I asked.
“We have to see about a story I’ve come to know.”
“By tomorrow, it’ll be my story you’ve come to know.”
“Milan, you have to call me back!” Lisa texted. I knew my secret was out.
“I don’t have an answer. Can I apologize for the truth?” I texted.
“Clients may feel deceived. I want to be open and tell the TRUTH. Your version.”
“Tides are turning, my love. Believe me, it will come a time.” Winter texted.
I caught a glimpse of Noel’s feet out of the corner of my eye. I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t, not after today. He sat down next to me.
“What’s wrong?” He wiped the tears from my eyes. “You don’t want to do it anymore, we don’t have to,” he said.
“It’s not that. It’s nothing.” I was so foggy.
“And you’re crying?”
“Don’t talk about that.” I put my hands in his and my head to his chest. Everything was about to change. We were definitely going to have to run away.
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