“You have your own gym in your own house?”
“Well, I wouldn’t call it a gym. Especially since it’s not very big.”
“It’s big to me.”
I soaked in Keisha’s appreciation. “I’ll save the backyard for tomorrow.” I led her up the winding staircase. “Up here are the bedrooms and our home office.”
“You have an office in your house, too?”
“I do,” I told her. “I have my own business and Mauricio’s a professor, but sometimes we bring work home, and we work in there. But I’ll show you that tomorrow, too, and of course, you’ll meet . . .”
“Babe,” Mauricio interrupted me right when Keisha and I got to the top of the staircase, “did you put clean towels in Keisha’s bathroom?”
“Yeah, her room is completely ready,” I said.
I led Keisha to her room as Mauricio went into ours. When Keisha stepped inside, she stopped, and I wondered if there was something wrong. But then I realized that like downstairs, she was just taking this all in—the platform canopied bed, the armoire, the dresser, and the forty-two-inch flat screen hanging on the wall.
The burgundy-and-white room was so plain, so regular to me; I hadn’t had much time to design it. But once again, Keisha made me pause. Appreciate all that I’d been given.
I was having another one of those moments—when I just wanted to take her into my arms and let her know she was going to be fine now. After a few moments, I crossed the bedroom. “Your bathroom is here.”
It took her a moment to follow me and she peeked in before she stepped in. “I’ve never seen a bathroom attached to a bedroom before, except in a hotel.”
“Well, this is your bathroom; there are fresh towels and here’s a basket of soaps and shower gels you can choose from.”
“I brought my own shower gel.”
“That’s okay. You can use your own or what’s here. Whatever you want, Keisha; it’s up to you.”
She nodded and gave me another smile, which this time warmed my heart. We stepped back into the bedroom, and I handed her the TV’s remote. “I’m going to leave you alone now. But if you need anything, I’m just right down the hall, okay?”
“Yeah.”
I waited a moment, then hugged her again. Her arms still stayed at her sides. When I stepped back, I said, “Get some sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yeah,” she said.
I walked out, closed the doors, then stood in the hallway. This wasn’t exactly the way I imagined it, though the fantasy I had in my head wasn’t anywhere near realistic. I’d imagined that Keisha and I would have stayed up all night, sitting in the middle of her bed, chomping on popcorn and sharing secrets as sisters. I’d imagined a slumber party filled with laughter and hugs, something that I shared with Regan.
“One day,” I whispered as I trekked into my bedroom. “One day.”
16
Keisha
I felt like I was one of those people who took pictures of celebrities. No, I felt like one of those celebrities. No, I felt like one of those big celebrities, like a Real Housewife of Atlanta. No, those chicks were fake; Gabrielle was the real deal. I was a Real Housewife of Beverly Hills.
Pushing back the heavy drapes, I peeked out the window. I never asked what part of California Gabrielle lived in . . . was I in Beverly Hills? The thought of that made me squeal. Nobody in White Haven was ever going to believe this.
I kicked off my sneakers and socks, then began at the door. I took a panoramic picture of the whole room before I walked to the bathroom and did the same thing. Next, I took shots of the bed, the TV, and the dresser and that matching piece of furniture in the corner. Just as I got ready to sit down, I jumped up and walked to what I was sure was the closet. When I opened it, a light automatically came on.
“Whoa,” I said as I walked inside. The closet was empty, but with hangers on the bars on both sides, somebody could hang a whole bunch of clothes in this joint.
Shaking my head, I went back into the bedroom and decided to take a picture of the drapes because I’d only seen curtains like this on TV. They were burgundy and thick and heavy. I was thinking they were velvet, but based on everything else in this house, they were probably some kind of expensive, specially made material that I’d never heard of before.
Once I had all the pictures I wanted, I sat on the bed, but I popped up and took a picture of the cover because I had never felt anything like it; it was like cotton-ball soft.
Dang! Who was Gabrielle? Did she really have it like this? I mean, yeah, I could tell from Instagram that she was rich, but this was more than rich. This was . . . like, Beverly Hills rich.
I swiped through all the pictures I’d taken and couldn’t wait to send them to Buck.
Buck.
Did I want to send these to him? I was still mad, and he needed to recognize.
First, I sent a text:
I’m mad at you.
Less than a minute had passed when my phone vibrated.
Why you mad? Where you at?
I smiled. He wanted to know where I was? I could show him better than I could tell him. I sent picture after picture, not giving him a moment to respond. He did, though, right after I sent the last photo. He responded, but not with a text. My phone rang. I didn’t answer it the first time, and Buck did what I expected him to do—he called right back.
This time, I jumped down from the bed and scurried along the carpet, which tickled my toes, but inside the bathroom, the tile was so cool under my feet. Even though I wanted to just sink into the bed and talk to Buck, I didn’t want to take the chance of Gabrielle or her husband hearing me talking. So I closed the bathroom door and sat on the edge of the oversize tub.
I pressed “Talk,” then said, “Yeah.”
“Yo, you done hit the friggin’ lottery,” Buck said.
Though I grinned, I wiped the smile from my face so that I could say, “The first thing you need to do is apologize.”
“What you talkin’ about, boo?”
He put that boo in there because he heard my attitude. “You know what I’m talking about, Buck.”
“What? The cemetery?”
I pressed my lips together, thinking that Buck was lucky I wasn’t standing in front of him, or else again, I would’ve tried to punch his heart out since he kept slashing mine.
Then he said, “Yo, I’m sorry. But I just think . . .”
“We won’t have no problems, Buck, if you stop trying to think for me.”
“But your mom and I talked about it before she died.”
“I’m gonna hang up.”
“Yo! No, boo. All right. I won’t talk about it.”
“You better not.”
“I won’t, but you did hit the lottery. You know that, right?”
I leaned toward the sink and fingered a burgundy hand towel that had some letters sewn into the fabric. That towel was as thick as a blanket.
“Yo, Kesh,” Buck said. “I’m trippin’ off these pics. Your sister got it like that?”
“She got it beyond that.” I glanced at the mirror that covered one wall. “Buck, the pictures don’t even tell the whole story. You should see their house.”
“Do a video call. Show me.”
For a second, I stared at my phone. Sometimes, my boyfriend . . . “I can’t do that.”
“What? They got you on lockdown? You can’t walk around their house?”
“I can go anywhere I want, but what would I look like walking around with you on the phone? I’d look like I was casing the joint or something.”
“Yo, I guess that wouldn’t be a good look.”
“No, it wouldn’t be.” I stood up. “But later on, I’ll get some pics for you. You’re not going to believe this place.” I told him about the tour I’d taken—everything from the theater seating in the family room to the gym.
“Yo, a gym in their house?”
“That’s what I said. I bet we could fit ten of your mama’s houses in
to the downstairs alone.”
“Yo!” was all Buck said. And then he asked, “You think it’s bigger than Que’s triple-wide?”
I rolled my eyes. Really? Was Buck trying to compare his dope-dealing, credit-card scamming cousin’s trailer to this? Everybody in White Haven thought Que’s place was a mansion. But all Que had was a tricked-out trailer parked in his grandma’s front yard.
“This is a whole ’nother level,” I said, wanting to break it down for Buck. “Ain’t no storm coming and blowing this place away.”
“What kind of cars do they drive?”
“I don’t know about them, but Regan, the girl who was with me in White Haven? Well, she drives a SUV . . .”
“That’s all?”
I smirked a little before I said, “A Mercedes SUV.”
“Yo, I didn’t even know they made SUVs. Boo, this is it for you. So, they nice?”
I shrugged and thought about it. “Well, Regan is a witch, but Gabrielle seems cool, and her husband, he’s fine for real, so easy on the eyes.”
“Yo, he better not be hittin’ on my girl, or I’ll have somethin’ for him.”
Inside, I laughed. Buck couldn’t even stand in the same room with Gabrielle’s husband. But all I said was, “He’s not black, though.”
“She married a white dude?”
“Nah, he’s Puerto Rican or something. I don’t know. They’re both nice, I guess. But I’m not here to make friends. I just want to meet my father, get paid, and get out.”
“Yo! That’s why you’re my boo. You’re keeping your eye on the prize. So let’s do this game plan.”
“No,” I said as I leaned against the sink. “Let me get settled first. I’m gonna meet my father tomorrow.”
“So we’ll put together the plan tomorrow?”
I blew out a breath. I wanted to get the money as much as Buck, but I was smart enough to know I couldn’t just grab the cash and bounce. “Just give me a little time,” I told him. “I’ve got to get to know these people, get them to trust me.”
“They probably have all kinds of credit cards,” Buck said as if he hadn’t heard anything I’d just said. “You can probably get her to give you one of her credit cards tomorrow. Tell her you need to buy some stuff.”
I massaged my temple, trying to press away the ache on the side of my head that came courtesy of Buck. “I’m telling you, I can’t just ask her for a card. You gotta give me a minute and then I’ll get you ten credit cards.”
“All right, but yo, this is gonna be good, right, boo?”
“Yeah, it is. But I’m tired, so I’ll speak to you later.”
“Okay, hit me up in the morning.”
I clicked off the phone, then walked back into the bedroom. Pressing my ear against the door, I didn’t hear any sound. They were either already asleep or these were some good walls.
Moving back to the bed, I climbed onto, then sank into, the softness. I couldn’t help but sigh. I’d never been in any kind of bed that made me feel like I was floating. After a moment, I sat up. I’d seen rooms like these before—in my celebrity magazines. But I never thought I’d be staying in a place like this.
My eyes moved from one end of the room to the other. I hadn’t even been here for . . . what was it? An hour? Definitely not two. And already I knew that there might have to be a change of plans. Because I was beginning to think that getting the money and then going back to White Haven wasn’t enough.
Cash would just last for a little while . . . what I wanted was this kind of life.
WHEN I OPENED my eyes and saw that big-screen TV hanging on the wall, my mind couldn’t make sense of it. And then I remembered, I wasn’t balled up in my mama’s bed, I wasn’t tucked in the back seat of my truck, and I wasn’t even hovering in some corner in Buck’s mama’s house.
I was sleeping in Gabrielle Wilson Flores’s home.
Rolling over, I looked up, but I couldn’t see the ceiling because of this canopy.
“Wow.” That was all I kept saying last night as I unpacked my few clothes and hung them in the closet. I only used ten hangers and that made the closet seem even bigger, but still, it felt like my clothes and I really belonged here.
I picked up the phone from the nightstand and checked the time—it was just a little after six. What was I doing up so early? I was wide awake, though, and what I really wanted to do was get up and walk around the house since it would be light soon. I wanted to do that before Gabrielle or her husband woke up.
I’d been washing up in McDonald’s bathrooms for too many days, so, I took my time in the shower. Like everything else in Gabrielle’s house, this wasn’t any kind of ordinary shower. It felt like a light rain pouring over me. If water could be soft, this was it. Once I got out, though, I took care of my business quickly, the way I’d been doing at McDonald’s. Since I was meeting my father today, I’d decided to wear jeans—well, that was all I had—but I’d put on a regular white T-shirt so I wouldn’t be so casual. I mean, I didn’t want him thinking I was just some chick without any kind of class.
Glancing at my cell phone once again, I figured I’d have plenty of time to check out the house before anyone woke up. It was just about seven and now with the light coming through the windows, I’d be able to get a good look at this place.
But the moment I opened my bedroom, my plan was ghost. It was the aroma that hit me—the smell of bacon that came swirling up the staircase. My stomach growled, and my mouth watered.
These people were up this early?
Glancing toward one end of the hallway, I walked in the other direction toward the steps. At the top, I could almost reach out and touch the chandelier that was high above my head when I walked into the house last night. Slowly, I walked down the stairs, taking in the front of the house in the daylight. Everything was white and clean and expensive. All I kept thinking was that I could live like this.
Then, right when I got to the bottom . . .
“Mommy, I want three pancakes today.”
I froze.
What was that?
I heard Gabrielle’s voice, a little softer. “Let’s start with one, Bella, and then if you want another, I’ll give it to you.”
“But I know I want three already.”
“Bella . . .”
Bella? Who was Bella? I scrolled through my memory, trying to recall any mention of a Bella on Instagram. But there was nothing in my mind because I hadn’t seen anything about a little girl. That, I would have remembered.
“Mommy,” the girl whined.
I leaned against the wall. There was a little girl here . . . did she belong to Gabrielle? Of course she did—the girl had called her Mommy.
Closing my eyes, I fought hard not to allow the sound of that voice to take me back. I breathed in a load of oxygen, trying to keep myself in the present. But still, I couldn’t figure out how this had happened. Why didn’t I know Gabrielle had a little girl? If I had known, I wouldn’t have . . .
“Keisha?”
My eyes popped open, and I stared into the eyes of Gabrielle’s husband.
He said, “Are you all right?”
I swallowed, I nodded, and tried to think of a good lie for why I was lurking at the bottom of the staircase. But I didn’t have to do that because he came up with an excuse for me.
He said, “Were you looking for us? For the kitchen?”
I took a deep breath because I needed even more oxygen just to say, “Yeah, I got down here and wasn’t sure . . .”
“This way”—he motioned with his head—“to the kitchen. Gabby was on her way up to see if you were awake.”
He walked and I followed only because I couldn’t figure out a way to tell him that I needed to go upstairs and pack and get back to White Haven. When he stepped into the kitchen, I did, too. And then I didn’t see anything except for the little girl sitting at the table.
It took her a couple of moments to notice me, and when she did, she grinned, jumped up, and ran over to where I was
standing.
I wasn’t that tall, just about five three, five four or something like that, but she had to lean her head back to look up. “Are you my auntie?” She didn’t wait for me give her an answer; she wrapped her arms around my butt because that was as high as she could reach. It was only my reflex that made me hug her back. But that same reflex took me too far back and reminded me of far too much.
In a few seconds, so many memories passed through my mind, and there was only one way I would survive. I turned and ran like I was fleeing the scene of a crime. I dashed through that kitchen, then made a left and took the staircase two steps at a time. Gabrielle’s husband thought I didn’t know where I was going, but he was wrong. I found my bedroom and closed those doors behind me.
I had to pause for a moment because I felt so dizzy.
Gabrielle had a daughter?
That became a mantra in my mind.
Gabrielle had a daughter!
I sank onto the bed just as there was a knock on the door. I expected the door to open and for someone, probably Gabrielle, to walk in. But nothing happened. And then another knock.
I frowned. “Come in?” I wasn’t sure if that was what I was supposed to say. I mean, this was their house. They could go wherever they wanted.
The door opened and Gabrielle peeked her head inside. “May I come in?”
“Yeah.”
Last night, she had left the door open when she brought me into this room, but now she closed it behind her, and I knew I was in trouble. It looked like this money train was coming to an end before it even began its journey.
She sat next to me on the bed, then when she reached for my hand, I jumped a little, but settled down when she only held me.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
I had to think quickly because the truth wasn’t an option. I nodded. “Yeah.”
She was quiet as if she thought I was going to say something else. When I didn’t, she said, “What happened?”
I took a breath and decided to start with the truth. “I didn’t know you had a daughter.”
“Oh, yeah.” She shook her head a little. “She was asleep when you got here last night, and I think I was getting ready to tell you about her and . . .” She looked up at me. “So . . . did Bella upset you?”
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