Page 22 of The Sweetest Return

Malcolm.

Former AWU slot receiver, current professional pain in my ass, and one of the few people alive who could look at every version of Andre Jones and remain thoroughly unimpressed.

Malcolm: Important intelligence.

I already knew I should ignore him.

Me: No.

Malcolm: You ain’t even heard it nigga.

Me: Don’t need to.

His next message came through.

Malcolm: Heard Bennett might be at Crown.

My thumb stopped.

I read it again.

Me: From who?

The reply was immediate.

Malcolm:

I closed my eyes.

Shouldn’t have asked that fast.

Me: Nigga.

Malcolm: Thought you ain’t care.

Me: I asked where you heard it.

Malcolm: From a reputable source with excellent cheekbones and a bad attitude,

Camille.

I leaned back in the seat and looked out at the clouds.

That made more sense than I wanted it to. Malcolm and Camille had been whatever they were back in college, which meant neither one of them could hear the other’s name without pretending indifference too hard. As grown as they both claimed to be, they still found reasons to know things about each other. Professional overlap. Alumni events. Mutual friends. Petty little comments passed through people who enjoyed mess too much to be trusted with proximity.

If Malcolm had heard Imani might be at Crown, he probably heard it from Camille directly, pulled it out of her while she was pretending not to tell him, or read it off her face because those two had always been irritating like that.

Me: Since when you and Camille sharing information?

Malcolm: Don’t worry about my sources.

Me: Your source know you talking too much?

Malcolm: My source knows I’m gifted.

Me: Your source regrets you.

Malcolm: Often. Anyway. You gon be real calm if Bennett walk into Royal House tomorrow?