“You the one came in here with that look,” Calil shot back. “Eyes all wild, shirt half-untucked. Either the project stressin’ you out… or you got somebody puttin’ it on you.”
“Or two somebodies,” Maverick added, his smirk turning sharp. “I ain’t forget how cozy you and Calla were at the cookout, and I damn sure didn’t forget how Miss Coogi’s big fine ass had you and Calla tongues wagging’ like some fuckin’ puppies,” he said, making me laugh as I flipped him the bird.
My hand tightened around my glass. I thought about saying it. About laying it all down, like I did earlier in that quiet office when I told them how hard it had been to keep the peace, how it nearly broke me. Part of me wanted to say Mav was right, Calla and Amiyah got a nigga on the ropes in ways they don’t even want to imagine.
But Caleb was here tonight, and I still wasn’t sure how much I could give away with Maverick watching me like that. Old habits clung too tightly.
Still, I couldn’t stop myself completely.
“They got a nigga down real fuckin’ bad,” I muttered, low, my voice rasping. “Calla and Amiyah, they got me in meetings stuttering and shit like my name Radio. Mentally, physically, emotionally, I don’t know who I am when they’re not around.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and dangerous.
For a second, nobody said a word. Then Caleb’s laugh, sharp, loud, almost startling, cut through the bass. “First off, Ahmir, you owe me and Mav 10 stacks a piece, I told you baby sis was about to take this nigga through it,” he continued to laugh, “Calla might be poised, calm, and quiet, but she’s a Black through and through.”
He leaned back, shaking his head. “James. Let me put this plain: I’m in a seven-person polycule with queer-identifying, grown-ass adults. You think anything you say about my sister, and Amiyah is gon’ shock me?”
The table burst into laughter again, the kind that made heads turn from across the room, and even Ahmir cracked a grin. Calil shook his head, pretending to be scandalized.
I scrubbed a hand over my jaw, half laughing, half groaning. “Man… y’all ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?” Calil snorted. “You? Mister buttoned-up-suit-and-tie? Out here, tangled up in that? You the ridiculous one.”
Maverick leaned in, his eyes cutting sharp but softened by that new weight I’d felt earlier in therapy. “All I’m gonna say is… don’t let what happened in that house keep you from this. If you got something real in front of you. Don’t ruin it trying to control it.”
The words landed with purpose, but if only he knew just how little I controlled behind closed doors. I willingly surrendered, on my knees, in worship and surrender. The thought of being at Calla’s mercy had my body heating, so I refocused myself and looked at Mav, who was looking at me with both accountability and unyielding support in his eyes.
I looked around at all of them, Calil grinning, Ahmir smirking, Knox quiet and steady, Caleb still laughing, and Maverick just watching me with that look that said he finally saw me.
I swallowed hard, lifted my glass. “Alright, fine. Y’all want a confession?” I paused, smirking through the ache in my chest. “I’m losing my mind. And apparently, I’m a crybaby now, too.”
They laughed, but it wasn’t cruel. Maverick reached across and slapped my shoulder, grinning. “Bout time you admitted it. Welcome to the club.”
I laughed with them, rough and unsteady but real, because it didn’t feel like the weight was mine alone, so I let the moment hold me.
And under it all, beneath the laughter and the whiskey, I felt it again, that hunger, that need to see Calla’s smirk, and hear Amiyah’s whisper. The gala was looming like a storm on the horizon, and I was never more ready to see what Calla had in store.
Speaking of the gala, the bourbon burned its way down, loosening me just enough to say what I’d been holding in since the end of that damn meeting earlier.
I set the glass on the table, leaned back, and blew out a breath. “Aight, so… Calla invited me and Amiyah to the BlackSphere masquerade gala this weekend.”
“Business thing?” Knox asked, eyebrow raised.
I shook my head slowly. “Nah, definitely not business. She made it real clear, wasn’t shit professional about this invite. We’re there as her man and her woman, not as secrets, not as colleagues.”
The table went quiet for half a second, and then Calil damn near fell out of his seat laughing.
“I knew it!” he slapped the table, cackling. “I knew that freaky shit ran in the family. First Caleb, now Calla? Lord, have mercy, Winston Hills ain’t ready.”
Even I cracked a smile as everyone else roared.
“Run in the family?” Caleb scoffed, smirking into his glass. “Boy, don’t put my business on blast like that, and if it runs in the family, Ican’t wait to see what freak finding comes your way,” he chuckled, “But he’s not wrong, J. Non-traditional don’t mean wrong. It just means you gotta be honest about what you want.”
Maverick nodded, pointing his glass at me. “Exactly. Rule number one: communication. You don’t talk, you drown. Rule number two: don’t go into it thinking you gotta control everything. That’ll kill it before it starts.”
Calil leaned in, grinning wide. “Rule number three: make sure y’all got a safe word, ‘cause Lord knows my sister don’t play fair.”
That set everybody off again, laughter rolling through the booth, the kind that shook the weight off my shoulders even if just for a minute.
