“You gotta fuck somebody, though, right?”
I nearly choke on the water sliding down my throat. I’m surrounded by women worried about my sex life. “We’re not going there, Ken.”
“I could find you somebody.”
Fate already brought a beautiful, fiery woman into my summer.
“I’m doing fine on my own,” I drawl, hauling myself out of the ice tub so I can shower and get ready for my day. “Thanks, though.”
“That so?” Kenya asks. “Who?”
“No one you know.” I don’t bother trying to hide it from my sister. Even if I didn’t tell her, she’d find her way to the truth.
“Is she fine?”
“As hell,” I say, chuckling unabashedly.
“A sister?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” I grimace, irritated by the question I’ve fielded in some form or fashion many times since I started dating and ultimately married Bridget. “You never objected to Bridget because she was white.”
“No, I objected to Bridget because she was a whore who cheated on my brother.”
I can’t argue, and yet I find myself doing just that. “Hey, ease up. She’s still Simone’s mom, and I never want my daughter to hear me or any of her family talking like that about her mother.”
“Okay, I won’t say it. Long as you know I’m thinking it.”
“Duly noted.” I turn on the shower. “And what about you? You seeing anybody?”
“I might have some news, someone for you to meet.”
I pause, a grin spreading on my face. I want my sister’s happiness more than I want my own. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. You coming to New York anytime soon?”
“We have a game there in a few weeks. We’ll see how things work out,” Kenya replies cagily. “Oh, almost forgot. You talked to Mama?”
Guilt stabs me. I haven’t talked to her as much as I should have since my father died.
“I’ll call her,” I say, releasing a heavy sigh. “She didn’t sound too good last time we spoke.”
“Same,” Kenya replies, her voice uncharacteristically subdued. “They were married forty years. Most of her life was with Dad, and they had one of those epic, forever kind of loves.”
“Yeah, if I hadn’t seen their marriage with my own eyes, I wouldn’t think it was possible.”
“Let’s both call this week.”
“I may do one better,” I say. “I need to go to Philly and check on Faded, that barber shop I invested in. I’ll swing through to see Mama.”
“Take Simone with you. She hasn’t seen her grandmother in a while, and Mama would love to see her.”
“As long as she doesn’t start in on Simone’s hair again,” I groan.
“Well, Simone does need to do something with that head, and Bridget has no idea how to help.”
“Give Simone a break. She’s figuring it out.”
“I offered to help her,” Kenya says defensively. “She wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Yeah, but you just buy hair,” I say, laughing because my sister wears extensions year-round.
“And you know this,” Kenya says, laughing back. “Hair is trouble, man, especially during the season. I could get Simone’s own hair tight if she’d let me. Is Lucius still managing Faded?”
“Yeah. I’m thinking of asking if he’d be interested in opening another shop here in New York? Maybe Brooklyn?”
“I don’t have to ask what you’ll be doing when you finally retire. You already have more businesses than I can keep up with.”
“More than I can keep up with, too. That’s why I pay someone to help me.”
“Well thank you for cutting your little sis in on some of that action since obviously I won’t become a millionaire playing for the WNBA.”
“Don’t even think twice about it. Just introduce me to this potential love interest soon.”
“Hey, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
The thought of Lotus being mine, of her in my life, in my bed, makes my dick hard.
I head back to the ice bath.
7
Lotus
There’s something calming about sewing. The hum of the machine. The rhythm. Watching a creation take life and shape under your hands in real time. It’s always soothed me in ways few other things do. I was a wild, angry, damaged twelve-year-old when I landed in MiMi’s care. She wasn’t sure how to occupy my time, how to direct the violent storm churning inside of me, so she tried everything. Some things stuck, and some didn’t. But from the first time she sat me down at her Singer, sewing made sense.
“You almost done with that?” Yari asks from the doorway leading back to the atelier’s workroom.
I like to sew alone. It gives me time to think. Out there on the floor, there’s a dozen languages the seamstresses speak, flying around and distracting. And the gossip is non-stop. I like to see where my thoughts take me. Sewing is meditative and not for the chaos of the workroom.
“Yeah.” I hold up the dress for Yari’s inspection. “I had to tear the whole seam out and start all over.”
“Looks good.” She takes the dress, folding it over her arm. “I’ll get this to the seamstress so she can start on the buttons. Meanwhile, JP wants you in his office.”
“Did he say for what?” I stand and stretch out the muscles locked tight while I concentrated at the sewing machine.
“Nope.”
We leave the backroom together, she headed for the workroom, me up the steps to JP’s office. His door is open, so I knock on the doorframe. He glances up from his position on the floor, kneeling in front of a woman easily six feet tall.
“Oh good,” he says around a mouthful of pins. “You’re here.”
I walk over and hold out my hand. He drops the pins from his lips into my palm.
“I meant to ask you something yesterday.” Still on his knees, he shifts on the floor from her front to her side, adjusting the fuchsia material he’s draping into the shape of a dress for the September show. I rotate with him, handing him a pin without him having to ask. We work well together, read each other well.
“Yesterday?” I frown because JP is notoriously last-minute. “What do you need?”
“Your eye. Your sense of style. Your essence.” He bats his lashes through all the BS flattery. “For you to come with me on a shoot today.”
“Sure.” I nod and hand him another pin. “I didn’t know we had one scheduled.”
“It’s kind of last minute.”
Shocker. “Oh?”
“Yeah, Kenan’s going out of town next week, so I asked Chase if he could shoot today instead.”
I accidentally prick my finger with a pin at the mention of Kenan’s name.
“You know,” I say, sucking the sore finger, “maybe I should stay here. We’re expecting that shipment of silks today, and I wanted to be here to receive them. It’ll throw off our whole production schedule if anything happens to that delivery.”
“Anybody can sign for a package,” he says dismissively. “You are the only one Kenan wants to see.”
I freeze, glaring at my boss, the matchmaking devil. “Did he ask me to come or something?”
“Not in so many words.”
“In how many words?”
“I mean, the man agreed to do the whole campaign for a chance to kiss you,” JP says, sparing me a glance away from the material he’s draping and pinning over the model’s hip. “I’d be a fool not to keep you close.”
“You mean use me?”
“Don’t think of it that way, Lo.” He turns teasingly calculating eyes up to me from the floor. “Or do. Either way, you’re coming.”
He adjusts one last fold on the dress, and pats the model’s bottom. “Go on, cherie, and ask Yari to take a picture before you disrobe.”
The model turns on bare feet and glides gracefully through the office door.
“And watch my pins,” JP yells after her. “Be careful taking that dress off. It’s worth your weight in gold.”
He grabs his man pouch and turns to me. “Ready?”
“Now?” I glance down at my cut off denim shorts, Spelman tank top and low-rise Nike Air Force 1s. My hair is in two braids. I have on no make-up. Ordinarily I’d be fine going to a shoot like this. Shoots are hard work, and my appearance is usually the last thing I’m concerned with, but he’ll be there.
“Maintenant,” JP confirms, already walking out the door and headed down the stairs. “Lotus, where are you? You’re supposed to be the wind at my back. My back feels cold and lonely.”
I roll my eyes and mutter, “Suck my dick.”
“What was that, ma petite?” he calls back, his tone knowing and indulgent.
“I said let me grab my bag, right quick,” I reply louder.
On the drive to the Chelsea loft where they’re shooting, I half-listen to JP talk in the back seat about the watch and the prototypes. Mostly, I’m wrestling with my emotions in silence. I’m nervous, yeah, but it’s more than that.
Circle of truth and trust.
Members: One.
Member: Me.
I’m excited to see Kenan. It’s been more than a week since the party. If he’d wanted to get in touch with me, he could have. Through the office or even JP himself. Hell, through Iris, if he’d wanted to, but he hasn’t. The prospect of seeing him again has my fingers toying with the frayed denim dripping around my thighs. Maybe he lost interest in a sexless, simple friendship for the summer. Maybe he’s decided he needs sex, and this getting to know me thing won’t satisfy him. For someone who claimed to want him to leave me alone, my disappointment is ironic. And telling.
“Chaos!” JP declares when we step on set. “See what happens when we aren’t here, Lotus?”