That gets Michael to shut up.
Soon, all of us are in the kitchen getting drinks and planning what we are going to eat. Charlie walks up and throws his arm over my shoulder like nothing has changed. Callahan wiggles his eyebrows at us and then starts lining bacon on a baking tray.
“How have you been?” Charlie asks me.
“Good.”
“Oh yeah? Dating a white boy all it’s cracked up to be?” He smirks like it’s all good fun, but the grit in his voice is telling.
“Charlie, tell me, how many women have you slept with since we ended things?”
His eyes widen before he looks down.
“Seems like you are doing alright yourself.” I move his arm off of me and go to help with the eggs.
Somehow, it turns into only the women and Callahan doing the cooking. The rest of the guys suddenly have to check emails and make calls. All it does is make me admire my man some more. Especially since he can actually cook.
“Your ma taught you well, huh?” I scoot in close to him and press my shoulder against his.
“Honestly, no, she’s old school and thinks it’s a woman’s thing, but seeing my dad fail at making us dinner when she worked, and Finn almost starving when he moved out, it became my mission to learn.”
“Your knife cutting skills are practically professional,” Sahara says.
“You know I’m good with my hands,” he says, shooting me a wink.
Rowan makes a gagging noise and then promptly goes to set the table.
We all move the food over and start loading our plates before the men come in. I have half a mind to leave them with nothing, but we made too much for that.
A quick breakfast and a mad dash to get ready, we are soon walking into Shearer Cottage, a staple in the Black community. It started as a laundry house for business by Henrietta Shearer. Eventually, they expanded it into an inn that catered to Black folks. It was one of the only places on the island that did so. Operational for more than a century, we stand in a place of beautiful history.
Farrah and Errol have stars in their eyes as they look around. The type of generational wealth that this family was able to accomplish is something every Black person in America wants for themselves. It’s what we’re owed for building up this country.
Callahan has the sense to give me space here and takes his own time taking everything in. Sahara and I walk with our arms linked until we end up on the porch.
“I think I’m going to buy property here,” she says, leaning against a beam.
“I would love to do something like that.”
“I know you dance, but have you ever thought about expanding into other ventures?”
“Actually, I’m thinking about buying a dance studio.” I wrap my scarf tighter around me in an effort to hide my cheeks. They aren’t just red from the cold.
“What’s stopping you?”
“Honestly, it’s a big change, and it would solidify my decision to walk away from touring with artists. I can still choreograph and try and work on sets and whatnot, but I’d no longer be on the stage. Also, it would take the last bit of money I have saved.”
At this point, I can’t even imagine going back to dancing at all. Everyone keeps assuring me that I’ll be back to normal one day, but all I feel is tired. The cancer might not have spread in my body, but it’s touched both my heart and my mind.
“That is scary, when you put it like that. So you’ll miss it?”
“I don’t think so, but I just want to be sure.”
She goes into her pocket and hands me a card. I already have her phone number, so I’m not sure what this is for.
“I’m a part of an investment group that only takes pitches from BIPOC people. If you do come up with a good business plan, we might be able to get you the start-up funding.”
I look at the card and then at her, trying to find the words. Seeing that I’m at a loss, she comes up and hugs me. We stay that way until Errol comes back out to usher us to the vans.
