“See how forgetful that dick got you… must be nice,” she says with a look of admiration on her face that I can’t even enjoy because I’m nowhere near ready for this event and the so-called dick I got this morning was just that. Dick. Nothing more, nothing less. “At least tell me you have something that’ll look good with a bohemian updo,” she says.
I mentally go through my closet and come up with a fit that will be perfect for tonight but…
“I know what I’m going to wear, but I’m thinking about flat ironing my hair instead of going with an updo,” I say and Sheena immediately gives me a skeptical look.
“Please, Cori. I was trying to be nice, but your hair looks a mess and we ain’t got time for all that.”
Instead of going back and forth with Sheena, I settle for the updo because she has a point. We don’t have much time. Where showing up late to an event like this would normally be an option, tonight I need to be on time to gain front and center access to Mr. Brown. He’s not only one of the most renowned photographers of our time, but he also has an opening in his organization that could get me off the high school sidelines.
We arrive at the exhibit with five minutes to spare, giving us just enough time to find the event space amongst the eclectic mix of businesses on the street that’s so industrial inspired it’s hard to tell what they are from the outside looking in. The only thing I do recognize is the name of the construction company on a sign at the business next door.
“Get your game face on,” Sheena says as we approach a set of double doors and a wall of windows at the entrance that shows off the immaculate decor from the sidewalk. Edison lights hang from the ceiling, illuminating every inch of the open space, which has exposed brick on the other three walls, a polished concrete floor, and added individual lighting for each piece of photography on display.
As soon as we make it inside, Sheena grabs two drinks at the cash bar, and we work our way over to Mr. Brown, whose pictures, ironically, don’t do him justice. He’s in his forties, dressed in a mock turtleneck, distressed jeans, and enough accessories that give him a timeless, edgy look.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Cori Brooks. Thank you for coming,” he says before I’m able to introduce myself and Sheena leans into me.
“Bitch, he’s fine and he knows your name,” she whispers before turning to him. “Thank you for curating such an amazing collection for us to see. I’m LaSheena Moore, by the way.”
She puts on her business voice and puts her hand out for him to shake, but he kisses the back of it instead, causing her to visibly melt. When he turns to me, he does the same, and it doesn’t feel right, but I smile through it anyway, not wanting to be rude. It ends up encouraging him even more. He opens up a tab at the bar and keeps the drinks flowing for us, then shows us each piece in the room, lingering on the more sexually suggestive photos longer than the others. It’s so bad that even Sheena gets annoyed as she keeps looking my way and talking shit about the eccentric photographer through text.
The more he talks, the less impressed I am by the man I admired up until tonight. Two hours into the event, he’s tipsy as hell and has managed to accidentally brush up against me more than once. So when he stumbles into me and his hands land on my ass, it takes everything in me to not swing on him as I deftly move him out of my space.
“You ready to go?” I ask, looking toward Sheena and she cuts her eyes to Bilal, nodding right before her eyes go big. When she looks to me then back to the entrance, staring without a word, I follow her gaze and see Vaughn striding across the room. He’s wearing a polo shirt, jeans, with worn, steel-toed construction boots, and a tool belt hanging from his waist, not breaking his stride until he’s standing directly in front of us.
“Sheena,” he says, giving her an upward nod, then turns to me with a masked expression. “Icoris.”
The use of my government name confuses everyone except me. Most times the name brought on embarrassment, but today, out of Vaughn’s mouth, it comes off more like an insult. I’ve already done the job of removing Bilal’s hands from my waist, but I use Vaughn’s arrival as an opportunity to take an extra stepaway, only to have Bilal’s tipsy ass follow me. He takes a step in my direction, swaying a bit, drawing Vaughn’s attention.
“Can I help you with something, my nigga?” Vaughn asks, looking between me and Bilal like he’s trying to assess the situation before finally landing on the latter, glaring at him hard as hell until Bilal is forced to acknowledge him.
“Who are you?” Bilal slurs as he searches the room for security.
“The nigga who’s about to bust them kneecaps wide open if you don’t back the fuck up,” Vaughn says, reaching for the hammer hooked on his tool belt, and everybody backs up.
Even Sheena lets out an “Oop,” as she takes a step back before looking at me to explain. “Girl, you know I ain’t never had good knees, but I’mma keep the ones I got and go stand over there if you need me.”
She points to the space beside the exit, then dramatically tiptoes away, and I roll my eyes, knowing we’ll probably laugh about this later. But right now it’s all I can do to try to deescalate the situation before security arrives.
“Vaughn, baby, let’s go,” I say softly, touching his chest.
“Nah, I’m trying to see something,” he says, not looking my way once, with his stare still fixed on Bilal.
“Please.”
His eyes flit down to me then back up at Bilal, who, for all intents and purposes, is still trying to stand his ground after taking those first few steps back. It’s not until I feel Vaughn’s arm wrap around my waist that I take a sigh of relief and let my hand slide from his chest to intertwine my hand in his, giving it a squeeze. His eyes finally fall back down to mine and I give him a nudge toward the exit with my body until he decides to leave on his own. As soon as we make it outside, Vaughn’s body visibly relaxes before he licks his lips and looks down at me.
“Where’s your car?” he asks, looking along the street, narrowing his eyes at me.
“Sheena and I took an iDrive,” I say, and he nods toward the lot across the street.
“Let’s go then.”
I make sure I have my clutch, then look back at the building where half the people in attendance are standing by the window watching us, including Sheena. She puts her hand to her ear like it’s a phone, mouthing the words “call me” and it’s all I can do to give her a reassuring smile before Vaughn walks me to the passenger side of his truck, opens the door for me to get in, and we pull off.
Chapter 14
Vaughn
