Love Notes (Equilibrium Book 1)

by Christina C Jones

Six.

  I swear I didn’t drop in on purpose.

  I wasn’t seeking her out, wasn’t trying to find my way into her space. It just happened like that.

  I was leaving the park, after hooping with a few guys from the shop, since it was my day off. On those days, I only went to the shop to open and close it, maybe run a few numbers or something, but I usually steered clear so nobody would find anything for me to do. On the way home, I even took a slightly different route home so I wouldn’t be right in front of the windows as I walked past, lest I catch somebody’s attention and get pulled into spending hours there doing one thing or another.

  That slight variation put me right in Jules’ path. As soon as I turned the corner I saw her, trying to maneuver a wagon full of what I could only describe as junk through the front door of her studio.

  “Hey, let me help you with that!” I called out, and when she looked up to see it was me, I almost laughed at the relief on her face.

  “Thank you,” she professed, a hand to her chest as she held the door open for me to get it inside, and then closed it behind us. “My shoulders are so sore from digging through crap I was almost about to just say forget it, and leave it at the door.”

  “What is all this anyway?” I asked, peeking through the pile of random… stuff. Picture frames, planters, baskets, a wire-framed chair… all manner of things I couldn’t fathom being useful.

  “Photo props!” Her smile was huge as she grabbed the handle of the wagon, pulling it behind her as she headed down a hallway, motioning for me to follow. She flipped the light on to another big room, filled with various piles of stuff that looked a lot like what was already in that wagon. “Of course I’m gonna have to jazz it all up first, but I spent the morning at the flea market, sourcing things that I’ll use in different shoots. I know it probably seems random, but I have a vision for it. Like this chair? Ten bucks! I’m gonna spray it some bright, funky color, and then some teenager’s parents are going to hire me to take their senior portraits. I’m gonna plant that chair in the middle of somebody’s garden, put that teenager in, and take pictures that compare this step in her life to… growth and blooming, and harvesting… or something. I know it’s corny, but I love it, and I’m excited.”

  “I actually think it sounds dope,” I laughed, using the towel draped over my shoulder to wipe away the sweat I was still producing after spending two hours running around in the steadily rising heat this morning. “You’ve got a creative mind.”

  Jules beamed over the compliment as she started sorting her new discoveries into the existing piles. “Why thank you! Now I just need some clients to go with it.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, that would probably be good. I’m shocked you don’t have anyone yet though.”

  “I’m not,” she shrugged. “I’m actually still working on being properly equipped for that. I got a great amount of interest from the barbershop photos – lots of social media engagement, newsletter signups, things like that. But, I actually don’t have a client intake process yet, which is what I spent yesterday discussing with my web developer. Which is another thing to be excited about,” she went on, clearly in a more talkative mood than when I’d seen her a few days ago.

  That shit had bothered me, for multiple reasons.

  It was always a bit of a sore point with me, when people complained about their families. My first thought was usually “At least you have somebody”, but I quickly realized that whatever Jules was going through with her people… it wasn’t any of that petty shit I heard so often. I’d never gotten the impression that she was emotionless, or detached, but she seemed so feisty and resilient that seeing her cry… it troubled the hell out of me, because I knew it had to be bad. It had to be something that hurt deep.

  I was more than a little concerned with how pissed I was that somebody had hurt her. But it wasn’t my business, so I hadn’t pried. Just did what I could to make her feel better, and it seemed like I’d accomplished that.

  Seeing her today, back to the vivacious girl I’d first met?

  Man, I’d stand here and listen to her all day.

  “I’m so glad I decided to go with someone local, instead of just hiring someone online. She’s willing to make a trade, which is… phenomenal. Astrid wants me to take some promo shots for her yoga business! I know on the surface that’s not what Love Notes is about, but because she’s giving me full creative control, I can do it my way. Make it about the relationship with the body, the mindfulness, the peace that comes with yoga practice, you know? That way, they serve dual purpose – beautiful shots that are within the bounds of what I want to do, and they can still be used for promotions.”

  I nodded. “Nice! I know we’ve definitely had new customers in the shop since you put out those pictures. It’s been poppin’ over there. I actually brought in a new barber this week.”

  Her eyes got big, and she stopped what she was doing. “Really?!”

  “Yeah, really,” I laughed.

  “That is so great!” She clapped her hands, keeping them clasped together for a moment as she chewed on her bottom lip, obviously thinking through something.

  “Yeah, it is. And, in a few months, a friend of mine is gonna need some maternity shots, and she mentioned maybe coming to you.”

  Somehow, those eyes got bigger. “Really?!” she squealed. “Who?! She knows about me?!”

  “Well, I can’t tell you who quite yet. I don’t think they’re telling people she’s pregnant for another month or so, but yeah, she knows about you.”

  “Wow. I mean, I know there’s a logo on the window, but still… God this is exciting,” she gushed, then blew out a breath. “And I love maternity, so much. Pregnancy is so beautiful, and getting to help those mothers document that time, growing a baby they’re gonna love and cherish and care for is… it’s just amazing.”

  I swallowed. “Yeah… I can imagine.” She went quiet after that, and I felt her eyes on me. She knew something had shifted, but probably wasn’t sure what. And hell… neither was I. “Hey…” I asked, looking up to find her attention still keenly directed at me. “You ever done like… adoption photos? Like a couple adopts a kid, gets pictures of the new family?”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t personally done them, but I’ve seen them before. They’re beautiful.”

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  Silence again.

  And then, “Hey, Troy…” when I looked up again, she’d put down the frame in her hands, and started walking toward me, pulling off her utility gloves. “Have you ever considered doing one of those ancestry test things?”

  My eyebrows shot up. That was not the question I was expecting, at all.

  “Nah,” I shook my head. “Well… I mean, I’ve thought about it, but I figured… if they wanted to be found, they wouldn’t have given me up in the first place.”

  I expected that statement to be met with pity, but instead, her eyes lit with triumph as she stopped in front of me, propping her hands on her hips.

  “Well, your parents, yeah, but… they aren’t your only family. You could have grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins who would love to know you.”

  I frowned. “Why would they if my parents didn’t?”

  “Because they’re not a hive mind?” she asked, even though it wasn’t really a question. “Listen… I was… kinda adopted too. When I was fourteen, I moved in with my aunt and uncle, because… because of stuff at home. At sixteen, my mother tried to force me to come back, but I refused, and so she legally gave up custody of me, and my aunt and uncle took it on. My mother never spoke to me again. Didn’t help with prom, didn’t come to my graduation, nothing.”

  Trying to figure out how to address her without being rude, I ran my tongue behind my teeth, stalling. Finally, I said, “Jules… that’s messed up, really. And I’m sorry it happened to you. But… I don’t understand what it has to do with me?”

  “It has everything to do with you,” she insisted. “What I’m saying is, I know what i
t’s like to have parents who… suck. I mean, we don’t know your parent's reasons, but it doesn’t matter. Just because they wouldn’t – or couldn’t – take care of, or love you, doesn’t mean that you don’t have other people who would love the opportunity. My Aunt Darcy? She didn’t care how my mother felt about it, even though that was her sister. She saw that I was a kid who needed somebody to love and protect her – to do what my mother wasn’t doing. And she stepped up. You might have your own Aunt Darcy who has spent all these years hating that she couldn’t take care of you. You know?”

  I huffed. “Aiight. I guess I get your point, but… what if my shit is no fairy tale? What if it’s a bunch of motherfuckers who want nothing to do with me?”

  “Then you lost exactly nothing. And now you have names to curse out in your head when you think about this shit, because I know you think about it. I can tell it bothers you. So… wouldn’t you rather at least know?”

  My hand went up burying fingers in my hair as I scratched my scalp, and thought about what she was saying – presenting something I’d contemplated before in a light I’d never even considered.

  “Man, I can’t be giving these white folks my DNA,” I chuckled, trying to bring a little light to what was turning into a heavy moment. “And I already have a little record? They’ll send my shit straight to the “frame this motherfucker for something” pile.”

  Jules’ head tipped to the side. “A “little” record? What did you do?”

  “It was years ago,” I started, giving that disclaimer up front. “Lil’ bit of… urban pharmaceutical marketing. Unlawful possession of a weapon.”

  I expected judgment, maybe even a little fear, but as usual, Jules surprised me by nodding. “Because why wouldn’t you have something to protect yourself.”

  “Still illegal. Still some shit I wasn’t supposed to be into,” I said, not giving myself the same grace I was glad to get from her.

  “Well sure, we know that part. How many years?”

  “Two out of ten. Got really damn lucky with that.”

  Jules let out an ugly sound. “Yeah. While Becky with the good hair over in Cali or Denver is making millions now, selling the same things they lock us up for. But… that’s off-topic. I was actually going to recommend this company called Roots. They’re black-owned, anti-police brutality, all of that. Not as big as the other services obviously, but they’re for us. And if you get matched with someone else who has done it, they have ways to initiate contact. You should do it.”

  “That actually sounds really dope. I think I might.”

  “I think you will. Let’s order it now,” Jules said, grabbing me by the arm and tugging so fast that I was following her willingly before it even registered to me what she’d said.

  “Wait, hold up,” I told her, stopping in the doorway of the room she’d set up as her office. She’d already sat down and powered up her laptop, and was typing something as I spoke. “I need time to think about this. Not rush into it.”

  “Of course,” she piped, with a smile. “But, there’s no harm in just ordering the thing. If you decide not to do it, just don’t. But if you do decide to use it, you’ll have it. What’s your address?”

  I sighed, but gave her the information to place the order, since I agreed with her assessment. Ordering it didn’t mean I had to actually complete it.

  I was pulling out my wallet to give her my card for the payment when she stood up, closing the lid of the computer.

  “Okay, you’re good to go! It’ll be here in a week.”

  I frowned. “Doesn’t it need to be paid for?”

  “Yeah, I took care of it. Payback for the honeybun, which was delicious by the way.”

  Shaking my head, I went back into my wallet in search of cash. “Nah, how much was it? I know it was more than that damn honeybun.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said, stopping right in front of me. She probably didn’t know, but she had a smudge across her forehead from her trip to the flea market. Her hair was pulled into two thick braids, and she was dressed in a tee shirt, baggy jeans, and bright yellow converse.

  She was adorable.

  “Let me pay you for the ancestry test,” I told her, hoping the firmness in my voice would do something other than make her grin, but of course it didn’t.

  “I’m sure you’ll think of another way to make things even between us.” I grunted a bit as her little fist grabbed my sweat-soaked shirt, playing with the hem. “Just gotta be a little creative.”

  “Yeah, well…” I started, about to play right into wherever she wanted to take this, but the sound of the front door opening drew her away from me.

  Her face dropped into a frown as she waited, and a few seconds later, Anika from the coffeehouse – who I knew now was Jules’ cousin – appeared in the doorway.

  “Oooh, my bad,” she said, grinning as soon as she saw me standing there with Jules. “I didn’t know I was interrupting something.”

  “I need to get out of here anyway,” I said, returning my attention to Jules. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Let me know what you decide to do.”

  “Will do.”

  I acknowledged Anika with a nod and then got out of there, already knowing I was about to be a topic of conversation. They were giggling before I even left, and I shook my head as I pushed open the front door to head home with something new on my mind.

  Whether or not I was going to take this test.

  “Troy, wait up!”

  Shit.

  In the interest of not being an asshole, my footsteps slowed to a stop before I reluctantly turned to face the source of that request. Even though it was borderline cold this morning, with gloominess compounded by a light drizzle of rain, and all I wanted to do was get to the shop and settle in for what was probably going to be a slow day, I couldn’t bring myself to just outright ignore somebody I used to kick it with.

  Mia knew that.

  It was why she did it.

  At least once or twice a week lately, she made sure we “accidentally” ran into each other. Unlike when I bumped into Jules, Mia was always polished and perfected, hair and makeup, clothes, the whole nine. And really, I wasn’t even the type of dude that had a problem with a woman spending time on her appearance, nothing like that, the shit was just mad transparent – she was never pressed about always being on ten before I cut her off… whatever it was that we were doing.

  She clearly had an agenda, and I wasn’t down with being manipulated.

  “Good morning,” she practically sang as she sauntered up, twirling her umbrella in her fingers. Once she’d approached, she raised a little higher, covering me too. “You headed to the shop?”

  “Only thing that gets me up this early. And good morning to you too.”

  A smile spread across her lips. “Thank you. You wanna know what would make it even better?”

  Not really…

  “I’m sure you’re going to tell me either way, right?”

  “Ah, you know me so well,” she said, placing a hand against my chest. “You should come have a cup of coffee with me. That would make this dreary morning even better.”

  I pushed out a sigh. “Mia… I’ve explained that—”

  “You don’t want any confusion, blah blah,” she interrupted, waving me off. “Let’s be real, Troy – you were going to go open up the shop, then come back out for coffee anyway. You could just come with me now. It’s a cup of coffee, not a marriage proposal.”

  “But it’s not “just” a cup of coffee, so I don’t know why you’re playing,” I told her, shaking my head as I pulled back from her touch. “It’s an “in”. An “in” to a situation that I thought we had an understanding about.”

  She sucked her teeth, nostrils flaring with sudden anger. “No, you had an understanding. What I had was somebody I liked deciding he didn’t want to deal with me anymore, without ever giving me a real fucking reason.”

  Should’ve just kept walking.


  “Mia, look – I’m not about to do this. You’re talking about something that happened a year ago, first of all. And second of all – “I don’t want to do this anymore” is a reason. It’s just not what you want to hear.”

  “It’s a not a reason, it’s a non-answer.”

  “No, you’re looking for me to tell you something was wrong with this, or that, something I didn’t like, some mistake that was made.”

  Mia let out a dry laugh. “Oh, so you do understand.”

  “I understand perfectly, but what you don’t seem to understand is that I can’t give you what you’re looking for. I just wasn’t feeling it anymore. That’s it.”

  “But you’re feeling this new bitch?”

  “Aiight. I’ll see you around, Mia.”

  I started moving again, intending to go on about my business, because I wasn’t about to stand in the street and rehash a non-relationship from a year ago. We weren’t meeting parents, going out to dinner, talking about our future. We were Netflix and chill, hook up after a night out with friends, let her use the good bowl for cereal in the morning, at best. Mia was cool – not a damn thing wrong with the girl, at all. She was pretty as hell, funny, great at being a hair stylist, banging ass body – and dudes dream girl.

  Which is why the fact that she was still on this shit was baffling to me.

  Until she brought up Jules.

  Then, it made sense.

  She was cool – or at least seemed to be – with me breaking things off after the initial “What the hell do you mean?!” feelings had worn off. Pissed at first, but then it was cool. We spoke on the street, could sit in the same group at UG, talking and laughing like it was nothing.

  But then about a month ago, something shifted. She was in my face again, trying to make plans, wanting to swing by my place, all invitations I’d had to turn down, because I wasn’t going down that road again – a road that led to nothing.

  “Wow, so that really is something? You and her?” Mia called after me, quickly catching up and getting in front of me. “You make this big deal that you’re ready to settle down and “find your future”,” she sneered, doing air quotes with one hand, “but this bitch shows up in town and all you can do is sniff behind her?!”