“Arm sling?”
“Nah.”
LaShawn did her thing—grumbled for thirty seconds—then tried again. “If reporters ask, Montana, are you willing to …?”
“Yep. I’ll open my mouth. Speak.”
“See? I knew you could do it!”
Hadn’t realized all Zuri did for me.
Here I thought I’d offered her first class, a new lace front with its own zip code, and a dinner so fine it required silverware etiquette.
But when she asked Momma to hold her heart—while giving Darius one last hug—thatscrambled a dude’s mind.
Made me want to be held. Not just hugged.
Held. All night long.
I shook my head fast in the Uber, leaving LAX. Dangerous thinking. That’s how a man ended up candle shopping at Bath & Body Works and discussingourcolor palette.
“You cold?” Zuri asked from the back seat next to me as palm trees and gray LA skies zipped by. “That boat hat?—”
“Buckethat,” I corrected for the tenth time.
“Mm-hmm. A hoodie would’ve worked.”
“Once again, I left my stash tryna …”give you timeto explain to Darius. She seemed to realize I grabbed last-minute items at the airport in NOLA because she needed to prepare him. But I didn’t mean to place the blame. She had every right to make Little Dude feel comfortable. I doubted that she had ever spent more time apart from him than when he attended childcare. I shoulder-checked her softly. “Besides, nobody said nothing about that 3X wig on your head.”
She elbowed my bad rib. “Shut up. It’s only a 1X as if that’s any of your business.”
“It is. A stylist will arrive at the house”—I glanced at my watch—“any minute now. We gonna upgrade you to a human hair wig and?—”
“House? And how do you know about human hair?”
I side-eyed her. “I’m Black. My momma’s Black. If I ever settle, my wife will be?—”
“Full of good melanin, I get it.” Her eyes rolled. “Hello, the house? Won’t we be staying at a hotel … in two individual rooms?”
I sighed as the car rolled to a stop in front of my 10,472-square-foot mansion. “I assume you won’t take me up on my offer to share my bed? That good ole Southern hospitality doesn’t disappear since we’re no longer in NOLA,bébé.”
“Aw, I appreciate your thoughtfulness,Big Country.” Her voice dripped with more sugar than the Karo syrup in my restaurant’s kitchen. She gave my chest a soft pat. “But no, we won’t be sharing a bed.”
Zuri slipped out of the door with the driver’s help.
“Damn, what did my momma do to you,bébé?” I whispered into the empty sedan.
Had Momma said something this morning? Or was it them boys from the restaurant? Man, she couldn’t be afraid.
Though I’d give anything to know, I still felt sorry for someone else.
Me. Under any other circumstance, I’d never feel sorry for myself. We’d chilled at my place. A whole ass week. Any day now, I’d expected Zuri to tiptoe into my bed after Darius fell asleep. Orenjoy the kitchen counter with me. I’d never invited a woman home, here or in NOLA. With every conquest, I treated LA like an away game. Would’ve been nice to christen the kitchen with someone genuine.
Zuri was … special.
“Momma,” I whispered into the empty Uber and shook my head, “you out here being petty and ruining lives from a thousand miles away.”
An hour later, the stylist pulled a little red scrap off the rack. Zuri turned my living room into an HBCU stomp the yard as she entered. Tug, stomp. Pull, march.
