“The gala,” they all echoed, and five glasses went up.
18/
if this world were mine
THIS CHAPTER HAS A SOUNDTRACK
If This World Were Mineby Luther Vandross and Cheryl Lynn
julian
The Isaiahand Niecy Wade Foundation Charity Auction and Gala is always a working night for me. A decade in, and the rhythm of it lived in my body. Same checklist, same handshakes, same donor conversations I’d been having with people for so long that I knew which ones to hold longer and which ones to wave through. This was a night where the Wade name and reputation walked in front of me, and I followed letting it do the work.
I’d been to a hundred nights like this on autopilot. Shake hands, accept checks, take pictures, leave by midnight. I was making small talk with the mayor when Alyssa walked in, and the conversation in front of me went to white noise.
She was standing in the ballroom in a black gown that fell to the floor in one clean line, one shoulder out, with a high slit opening and closing at her left leg with every step. The dress poured down her body like it had been cut for her only. But it was her hair that surprised me even more. She'd traded her shorter cut for longer soft waves, loose and swept to one side, falling past her bare shoulder. To say she commanded the room was not the word for it. She'd stopped it.
I wasn’t the only man who noticed. Conversations slowed as heads turned. I spotted three different men nudging each other, nodding in her direction, eyes tracking her across the room. The territorial surge that hit me was immediate.
“Excuse me,” I said to the mayor, leaving him mid-sentence.
Darryl Granger said my name from the bar as I passed; I lifted a hand without breaking stride. I could see Alyssa looking around as she walked through the room, presumably for a familiar face. She saw me when I was about ten feet away, and her expression relaxed a bit as she gave me a smile, slightly tipping her head. She held her clutch in one hand and let the other one fall to her side, as she waited for me to reach her.
I stopped close. “Alyssa.”
“Hi, Julian.”
“You look stunning.”
She rubbed her lips together, trying not to smile. “Thank you, Julian.”
“I mean it.Absolutelygorgeous.”
“Thank you. You look good in that tux. Very handsome.”
I nodded, still stuck and not taking my eyes off hers. For a moment I actually forgot where we were.
“Um… so are there assigned tables, or...?” she asked.
I snapped out of my trance. “Yes. Yes. You’re sitting with us. Come.”
I held out my arm and she hooked her hand around my elbow. We started toward the family table in time to witness coordinated chaos.
Originally, there had been an empty chair directly across from my seat, but suddenly Zion was sliding over a seat, Taryn was shifting to accommodate, and Tre was moving his place setting with theatrical precision. Even Raschad and Simone repositioned themselves. The domino effect left an empty chair directly beside mine, and the original seat across from me was now occupied by Aunt Lorraine.
I stopped one step short of the table. “Subtle,” I said to Taryn, who was crossing in front of us with her wine.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, eyes dancing.
Alyssa let go of my arm. “Hi, everybody.”
“Hey, sis.”
“There she is.”
“Alyssa, baby.” Aunt Lorraine waved her over. “Get over here. Let me see this dress up close.”
She walked over and hugged Aunt Lorraine around the neck. “You lookshaaaarpas a needle, sweetheart,” Aunt Lorraine sang. “Julian. Pull her chair out.”
