I know he was just teasing me, but I wasn't going to front.
Britt was absolutely my favorite person in the Heights, and nobody else came close.
“You know you can't just stay cooped up with her though right?” Harlan asked. “Sydnee, Astrid, Cason… everybody else wants to see you too. You know Vaughn has that party tonight, right? You coming through?”
“Absolutely. Britt already basically told me I didn't have a choice.”
“The FTK party?” Carter interjected. “Isn’t there an age limit on that shit?”
Jamar shook his head. “We're all over the threshold Carter, chill.”
He chuckled. “I'm barely over the threshold, so I know you’re lying. I’m not gonna warn security about you or nothing, but if I see you… I’m snitching.”
We all laughed about that, ribbing each other and then the conversation went on, with me catching up with Harlan and Jamar, even once I was out of the chair. To my relief, they didn't grill me about when I was getting back on the bike, none of that other stuff that everybody else seemed to be on.
It was just catching up.
Hearing about how their families were doing, their future plans, what they were working on now. Not all about me and my feelings and the shit was relieving. By the time I left the shop, I was feeling the lightest I’d felt since I arrived.
And then I got the text from my parents I'd been dreading.
“What are you doing in Mahogany Heights – Babbo.”
“Marco is very upset – you’ve missed weeks of training, he said? And you aren’t answering your phone? – Babbo.”
I pushed out a sigh and started typing as I headed back to the bike shop, already knowing that whatever I said wouldn’t be good enough.
“I just needed a break. Needed to be at home for a while.”
“That’s not home. Home is here. I will send you a plane ticket. – Babbo”
I shook my head. “Don’t do that. I’ll come back when I’m ready.”
“And when, exactly, is that? What about your training? What about the races this year? – Babbo”
“You’re not hearing me. I’m done.”
I put my phone back in my pocket, after turning off the notifications from that text thread. I pulled out the door to Brittany’s building and immediately cut right, heading straight into the shop to find B.
She was with a customer, but she still took a second to greet me with a smile.
Exactly what I needed.
Right on time.
I hadn’t been to something like this in a long, long time.
A diverse mash of brown bodies, perfumed by liquor and smoke in a dimly lit venue appropriately named, The Basement. It had been around back when we were in high school, but we’d never been brave enough to sneak in. Back then, we snuck into the alley beside the building, resting against the blacked-out basement windows to feel the beat of the pounding music against our skin.
Now, we were part of the action, and to say we’d snuck into the FTK party was an exaggeration. Britt had pulled me right past security, taken two wrist bands from the people covering the door, and guided me straight to our friends.
No sneaking necessary, when your brother was the host of the party I guess.
I greeted Astrid and Sydnee, who I already knew, and met Quinn, Anika, and Jules. Those last two were actually from the area, just over the line to a different school district so we hadn’t been in the same crowd. I of course knew Harlan and Jamar, who I’d run into earlier, but I happily greeted Cason, who I hadn’t.
“Okay, listen,” Brittany called out, returning from a quick disappearance with a tray of shot glasses in her hand. “We never know when we’ll get a chance again, so we gotta toast.”
“Toast to what?” I asked, accepting the drink she handed me.
That question earned squinted eyes and pursed lips. “Duh, Raf. To you.” She tossed the tray into a nearby chair, and the small group surrounded me. “These last few days have been the best I’ve had in a while, and I don’t want to waste a second of however long I have with you, so I’ll make it quick. It’s so good to have you home. Salud.”
A full chorus of salud rang out, in hilarious variances of a horrible Italian accent, deepening my grin as everyone tapped glasses and then downed their shots. Alcohol was another of those indulgences my strict training had limited, but I didn’t – couldn’t – worry about how my body might react to it.
In fact… I welcomed the impending numbness.
I kinda… needed it.
Either that, or whatever other distraction the night might provide. Without saying so, B seemed to have picked up on whatever shift had occurred in my mood, cause she took my empty shot glass to replace with a fresh one, encouraging me to knock it back. When I did, she grinned.
“And now… we party.”
The general age range of this party seemed to be 30s to early 40s, which was reflected in the music – the music that Britt and I had grown up with. All the Bad Boy artists from their heyday, the ATL rap emergence with Luda, Missy Elliot, a little Bubba Sparxx. Brandy, Monica, Usher, Mya, Tyrese, Ginuwine. All the music my older cousins – and Brittany’s older brother – had blasted when we were much too young to know what half the shit meant, let alone be singing along to it.
But it left the biggest imprint.
In fact, I wasn’t surprised at all when Brittany gasped as soon as Breakdown started up, interrupting the conversation we’d been having for her to sing along with Mariah Carey.
To serenade me, in her terrible singing voice.
So of course, I had to give it right back to her, when Keith Sweat’s Twisted came on.
It went on like that, more drinking, more singing, more dancing until we were sweaty, throats hurting, exhausted, but still having a good ass time. We’d really only intended to drop in, but we were having fun, which had been in very short supply for me lately, so I wasn’t in any hurry, and Britt wasn’t either.
But of course… it had to end sometime.
Blackstreet’s Deep came on, and Brit’s tipsy ass threw her arms around my neck, wearing the most innocent of smiles as she pressed against me, rocking her hips.
“What are you doing?” I chuckled.
She smirked as she sang along with the song, not bothering to answer my silly question. It was apparent what she was doing – she was dancing, and having a great time, just like we’d been doing all night.
But… something was different. Undoubtedly, I was the only one who felt it – just like that shift I’d imagined during our “acting” for the photoshoot yesterday. She was just trying to be a good model, getting into character so she could deliver the shot.
She’d done a damn good job.
Cause I’d completely forgotten where I was for a minute.
“Fai che tu voglia essere qui, amore mio.”
Make you want to be here, my love.
She’d said that shit to me, in Italian I’d taught her, with her breasts practically spilling out of that electric blue lace. The choker, those itty-bitty panties, the garters, and so, so much of her smooth, velvety skin… she was something plucked straight from a fantasy I wasn’t supposed to be having.
She was my friend.
That was all she’d ever been, and all I ever expected of her. But there had been something in her eyes on that video chat, and there was something in her eyes tonight as she danced on me, fervently singing along with that damn song.
I’d never been so glad for a song to end.
I needed some space between us before I made shit awkward and ruined the fun. It was time for the party to wind down anyway, so we made our way out, with B hanging on to my arm.
Some of the others were heading to Urban Grind to keep it going, but I was exhausted – physically and mentally. If Britt had wanted to go with them, I would have gladly escorted her, but she was yawning too, her eyes low and glossy from the smoke that had permeated the room.
“Let’s go home,” she insi
sted, lacing her fingers through mine.
I raised an eyebrow at that, but finished bidding our friends goodbye and guided her in the direction of the bike shop. Mentally, I noted that it was time for me to start thinking about my plans, even if it was just for the next few weeks. I couldn’t keep imposing on B – not that she’d complained at all, or seemed to mind.
I just didn’t want to wear out my welcome.
She kept up a constant stream of chatter about the shop as we headed that way. As we turned a corner, I noticed a group of guys crossing the street towards us. B paid them no mind, but I tucked her protectively under my arm, just to communicate a clear picture.
Only… it wasn’t a clear picture at all.
Especially when they got closer, and I realized one of the dudes was Aaron – the corny ass ex.
“Oh this is how it is, huh?” he called, and Britt finally took her eyes off my face to notice them. “This is why you were acting different, cause of this nigga?” he asked, walking up way too aggressively for my tastes.
“Back up,” I told him, holding up a hand before he got too close. “The night is young, man. Just go on about whatever you and your boys were doing.”
“Was I talking to you?” His angry gaze shifted to me.
I chuckled. “Yeah, you must be. Cause you’re not talking to her with all that bass and hostility. Scale it back, homeboy.”
“Whatever.” He shot me a scowl and turned his attention back to B with another overly aggressive step in her direction. “Brit, your ass—”
His words were lost in the wind when I shoved his ass backward, then tucked Britt behind me. “What the fuck did I just tell you?” I asked, fists clenched as he caught his balance and straightened. “You think I’m playing with you, and I’m not.”
He scoffed. “You’re not gonna do shit.”
“Keep trying me.”
“Yo,” one of his friends spoke up, pushing him away from us. “Nigga let’s go, ain’t nobody trying to be fighting and shit, I’m trying to get some pussy.”
“Yeah, listen to your boy,” I encouraged, my shoulders tensing when I realized the other friend had his cell phone out, filming.
“Fuck you,” Aaron spat, as he walked backward. “Fuck I look like fighting over some animal-print ass bitch anyway?”
For all his posturing, Aaron let out some scared-ass shriek as I launched toward him, only stopped by B’s hand grabbing my shoulder. I’d shot forward so abruptly that I almost dragged her with me, and when I stopped, she fell into my back.
Aaron’s punk ass ran off while I was turning to make sure she was okay. As soon as she confirmed, I was ready to take off after him, but she circled her arms around my bicep, pulling me in close.
“No,” she said, speaking for the first time since he walked up to us. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t worry about it?” I huffed. “He called you—”
“I just wanna go home, Raf,” she said, her eyes glossy for a different reason now. “Please?”
I pushed out a deep sigh, and nodded. Defending her honor didn’t mean shit if it flew directly in the face of her wishes, so… fine. I’d take her home. But it didn’t make me any less pissed.
Back at her place, Britt went straight into the shower, and I took the time to finally revisit the text thread with my parents. Probably not a good idea considering the mental state I was in after that little “confrontation” with bitch ass Aaron, but I couldn’t keep putting it off.
Once I was there, I was glad I hadn’t.
I swallowed the sudden dryness in my throat at the sight of a picture in the thread – two plane tickets. Leaving… hours ago.
“Fine. You will not come to us; we will come to you. – Mammina.”
“And we WILL talk about Marco. You have to make that right. – Mammina.”
I pushed out a long stream of air through my nose, and backed out of the text thread. There was no way any response I gave right now wouldn’t be immensely disrespectful, and they were probably on a plane right now anyway. They wouldn’t get it until they landed, and besides that… I didn’t want to make shit worse than it was.
So I said nothing.
B was still quiet when she came out of the shower. Since she wasn’t talking anyway, I took the opportunity to get in there myself, trying to scrub away my negative thoughts.
Obviously that shit didn’t work.
But I did feel a little better, and it was even more improved when I found B on her couch with a mug of tea, instead of having retreated to her bed.
Well… improved because her chosen refuge was near me instead of closing herself off. Finding out she was still upset about that little exchange on the street wasn’t an improvement at all.
She didn’t have to say it – it was in her body language, in her eyes. I chose not to prompt her. I just sat down, picking up the cup she’d prepared for me as I settled in, and waited.
“I can’t believe I fucked him,” she said, finally, putting her cup down. She propped her elbow on the arm of the couch, resting her head against her hand as she looked at me. “Wasted pussy mileage.”
I frowned. “Pussy mileage?” I repeated, and the confusion on my face must’ve been too much to handle, cause she laughed.
“I know there’s no such thing, but still. You ever just regret giving somebody access to you, after you see who they really are?”
I nodded. “Unfortunately.”
She sighed, staring up at the ceiling for a long time before she shook her head. “Animal print. That was a new one. He was always so unimaginative and bland when we were together… I’m surprised he managed to come up with something that stung like that.”
“Fuck him.”
“I did,” she countered, wiping her eyes. “A lot. Aren’t you keeping up, Raf? It’s why I’m so bothered. How could I have slept with someone who would say some shit like that to me? How fucking desperate am I?”
I sucked my teeth. “He’s the desperate one. Seeking you out, calling you out your name, practically begging in the shop the other day. I don’t see you doing any of that. You’ve barely mentioned that dude.”
“But I was with him.” She shook her head again. “And you know… that’s on me. Yeah, he fucking sucks, sure. But I gave him access, and I have to take responsibility.”
“Maybe so,” I nodded. “Maybe in your gut you knew, and you ignored red flags. Maybe you just wanted to believe the best about him though. And you’re not wrong for that.”
“I didn’t believe the best about him,” B corrected, with a little laugh. “I knew exactly how awful he was, and I just… did it anyway.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“Because nobody wants an animal-print ass bitch,” she answered, so matter-of-factly that it stung. “At least not… not for real. I look good in pictures, and in theory, and I’m good in bed, and that’s what I’m wanted for. For the idea of me. For the experience. Not for real.”
“B, that’s ridiculous.”
“That’s not for you to say,” she snapped. “I live with this, every day. You don’t. You see past… my skin. I don’t. Most people… don’t.”
“I don’t see past a damn thing.” I put down my cup to grab her hand, tugging until she looked at me. “There’s no colorblind or whatever the fuck here. I see you. I always have, stracciatella.” I ran my thumb over her hand, which was mostly still lush dark brown, except her pinky finger, which was pure white. “Listen… my bad for calling your thoughts ridiculous – you’re right, it’s not up to me to dictate what your experience has been. But know this – I think you’re beautiful. I think you’re a masterpiece, B, and sure, everybody can’t appreciate the beauty. That doesn’t change the value though.”
She stared at me a long time, not blinking, before she crossed the short space between us on the couch to nestle herself under my arm. “You’re pretty amazing yourself.”
Even though she couldn’t see it from her position, I smiled as I contorted my
self to kiss the top of her head. I was settling back again when my phone vibrated in my pocket – probably not my parents, but it made me think of them.
“Let’s go on our ride tomorrow,” I said, the words spilling out before I’d thought them entirely through.
Britt sat up, eyes wide. “Really?”
I thought about my parents showing up in the Heights, and the bullshit it would undoubtedly bring. The end to the little bit of peace I’d managed to carve out with B – peace I wasn’t ready to let go of yet.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter Six
So the ride was a good decision.
A great decision, even.
I hadn't really considered the joy of seeing B out in her element on the bike, but now that it was happening, I was so glad I went along with it.
I could tell she'd been putting in work in training, based on her speed and handling skills. Sure, maybe you really did never forget how to ride a bike in the most basic sense. But riding one well… meaning safely, with speed and endurance, was a whole different animal. A skill that most people never developed, because most people only rode for the most leisurely of purposes.
That wasn't B though.
She easily kept up with my more than 20mph speed - speed I was only doing to see what she was working with in the first place. This was supposed to be a comfortable ride. But she said she could do it, so we kept it up, making it to our first day’s destination in no time.
It was a small, unremarkable town with just a little bed and breakfast that we utilized to grab a meal, shower, and get some rest for the next day. That first leg of the trip - from where we stopped back to the Heights - was pretty well populated. A lot of outskirts, suburban-type neighborhoods, so there wasn't really much to look at. The benefit of that was wide open road, where we could be safely out of the way of traffic. Which was necessary, since around the world, places with large driving populations were roughly the same.
Drivers were assholes.
They either didn't understand how dangerous a car was for someone on a bike, or they just didn't care. Either way, I did my best to make sure we were as safe as we could as we headed along on our little journey, with B looking back every so often to shoot me a smile. Or with us, when there was room, slowing to ride right next to each other so we could talk.
In Tandem Page 7
