Page 11

11

Ace

I tried and failed at leaving work shit at work. I’m in the driveway at my parents’ house sending emails and looking over plans and shit, making sure there won’t been any more fuckups. It’s a national holiday. I’m supposed to be “relaxing.” But truth be told, I didn’t need a day off. I love being productive. I can’t stand when my hands are idle. It’s just my nature.

Once that’s done, I head on in to speak to the folks who birthed me.

Jackson and Angela Taylor live in Johns Creek, which is basically what Buckhead thought it was before niggas moved in and started partying.

Cars line the long driveway, most of them foreign and expensive. I park and head up the walkway toward the big, beautiful red brick colonial my parents bought once the nest was good and empty.

It’s the kind of sprawling, perfectly symmetrical house that belongs in a magazine spread. Beautifully edged lawn, manicured hydrangeas, and double glass front doors polished so clean you can see your reflection in them.

I step through those doors, greeted by cool air and silence, passing through the foyer with its high ceilings and spiral staircase. My mother’s bougie touch is everywhere—neutral colors, art, vases and sculptures placed just-so. This is the kind of house you admire, not live in. God help the first grandkid who tries to run through this place with juice and fruit snacks.

I hear sounds of life coming from the back deck. The smell of charcoal wafts inside, mingling with the notes of the vanilla candles my mama's burning. Smells like home, not that I ever enjoy myself over here.

My pops is in the pantry, almost certainly checking something off the never-ending honey-do list.

“What’s up, old man?”

He turns to me and grins. “Baby boy.”

We embrace, but it’s brief and not especially warm. That’s not really my family’s way. We’re happy to see each other, though, and that’s what matters.

After a few back pats, we separate and I ask, “What’s Mama got you doing?”

He laughs. “Moving the water and the soda to the deck.”

“Aight, I’ll help you.”

“And then moving the deck chairs to the other side of the yard. And the table.”

I blow out a breath and hoist two packs of water into my arms. “I shoulda been on CP time.”

Pop chuckles, inclining his head for me to follow him.

“And you shoulda had more kids,” I say. “Some boys.”

“I wanted more.”

“Mama was done after she had me, huh?”

He nods. “She got what she wanted.”

I grin when I hear that, because at least I know I made her happy at some point.

“Where’s this girl you told us about?”

“She’ll be here,” I say, shifting the weight of the pack. “It ain’t serious, though. We’re just kickin’ it.”

“It’s serious enough for you to bring her over here.”

I don’t respond. I don’t really know how to answer that. It does sound serious now that I hear him say it out loud.

The last woman I brought over here was Kenzie Tucker, a Brooklyn-raised clothing boutique owner I met at a club we were at to celebrate Bron’s birthday. Me and Kenz were kinda serious, in that we were exclusively fucking and hanging out with each other. But I never claimed her. I guess bringing her here was my way of testing our situation. Checking the foundation. I think she knew that, too, because she was nervous as hell.

In the end, Kenzie didn’t pass muster. My sisters liked her, but Jackson and Angela were quick to find fault. They thought she was a little too rough around the edges, which I defended by telling them that was just her Brooklyn-girl edge. And despite her entrepreneurial success, they decried her lack of college degree and single mother family of origin as being below my standards.

I was a grown ass man at the time, so I set my own damn standards, but it wasn’t about their approval. I was looking for any excuse not to commit, and they gave it to me. If I’d been in love with Kenzie, nothing, especially my mother’s snobbery, would have stopped me from moving forward with her.

I’m for damn sure not in love with Raya. The sex is flames, but that’s where it ends. She has potential, though. That’s the key.

After me and Pop finish our tasks, I make my way over to my mother, who’s holding court like the queen she is—flanked by Kamryn, Vanessa, and their friends.

“Oh, I see my baby,” she says softly, placing her glass of Chardonnay on the table.

She embraces me more lovingly than she would if nobody was watching, but I’ll take it, and I do, because that’s my mama.

“You smell good,” she says as we part. “When did you start wearing cologne?”

“I always have,” I say. “I got into Arab fragrances recently.”

She crinkles her nose. “That explains the harshness.”

“You just said I smell good!”

“You do,” she laughs. “But in a cheap way.”

I shake my head and turn to my sisters. I hug Vanessa first, because it’s been longer since I’ve seen her. Then I hug Kamryn, mushing her afterwards for good measure because that’s how we do. After I greet Cherelle and Zoya, I grab a beer out of the cooler and take my seat, pulling out my phone just as a text comes through.

Raya

Parking now

Cool. Come around the right side of the house and go through the gate

I should go out and meet her at the car, but I don’t. That would be serious . Or maybe I’m in denial and fighting the urge to be her boyfriend. I don’t know yet, but we’ll see in a minute.

She emerges a few moments later, and I’m taken aback. She looks…different.

Physically, she’s still fine as fuck, wearing a yellow sundress that’s popping against her brown skin. Her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail. Face pretty, as always.

It’s her expression that’s different.

I’m used to Raya oozing confidence and sex appeal to the point where I have no choice but to overlook the weird shit she does. But this girl in my parents’ yard is different. She’s smaller. Subdued. Anxious.

I don’t like that.

She smiles when she spots me, at least, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Then the realization hits: she needs me . I forget to act hard, jumping to my feet to greet her properly. When I pull her into me for a hug, she relaxes and runs her fingers down the back of my head. That shit makes my stomach flip in a way I don’t have the opportunity to acknowledge right now, but later on, it’s a go.

“I’m glad you made it,” I say, too honest for my liking. “Let me introduce you.”

“Wait.” She smooths her hair back with her fingers. “Do I look okay?”

“You look beautiful, as always.”

She likes that, and I realize I’ve never told her she's beautiful before. I guess I forget even the truly bad ones still wanna hear that.

“Okay,” she says. “Let’s get it over with.”

That’s…odd, but I’m too keyed up to dwell on it. I lead her over to the table and clear my throat.

“Yall, this is Raya. Raya, this is everybody.”

“Hi,” she says, very demure. Very soft. Nothing like the Raya I’ve been messing with these past few weeks. “It’s so nice to meet everybody.”

A chorus of greetings ripples through the group, but it’s my mother who makes the first volley. Of course.

“Raya. That’s an interesting name. Are you…named after anyone in particular?”

“My father,” she answers.

“I see.” Mama’s smile is tight. “You two must be very close, then.”

Raya’s smile is even tighter. The girl isn’t stupid. “We are. I’m close with both my parents. They’ve been married almost thirty-five years. We’re one big happy family.”

Checkmate.

Mama wasn’t expecting that. She sips her Chardonnay, eyes narrowing over the glass, while my sisters exchange a look. My father extends a hand, which Raya shakes warmly.

“Welcome to our home,” he says. “Please make yourself comfortable. You’re with the family. We don’t bite.”

Between his big grin and the twinkle in his eye, I know what he’s thinking, and so does everybody else in the yard. But as far as I know, my father’s wandering eye has never wandered too far from my mother.

I glance at her, wondering if she noticed.

She noticed.

I was prepubescent the first time I caught him checking out a woman in public. He laughed and told me straight up that looking is never wrong as long as you don’t touch. I’m sure my mama wishes he was a little more lowkey with that shit, though.

At any rate, Raya seems a little less on edge once the introductions are over. She insists on making me a plate before she makes herself one, something my mother and sisters take note of with a silent exchange of glances.

I let her. It’s not something I’d ever demand from a woman, and Lord knows Mama would cuss me out if she found out I did, but I’m not gonna pretend I don’t like that shit.

And she must like doing it. Shorty is focused. She brings me a full plate—ribs, baked beans, cornbread, corn on the cob, and potato salad—before grabbing one for herself.

We settle at the edge of the yard, a few feet away from the main crowd. The cicadas are loud as hell, the air still humid but settling into that golden, late-afternoon warmth.

She listens intently as I start talking about my people. Very intently.

Almost like she’s memorizing everything.

“So, Vanessa is my oldest sister. She’s a dentist. That’s her husband over there, dude who showed up wearing khakis to the cookout. And his name is Carlton. How’s that for irony?”

She laughs.

“Kamryn’s in the middle. Just two years older than me, but we might as well be twins. She’s in finance. She’s ruthless about money. She’s probably over there googling your net worth.”

That earns me a tight chuckle, I mean real tight.

“Her boyfriend is Rico. He didn’t come, but that’s my nigga.”

“Why not?”

I shrug like it’s not a big deal, even though it is. “He doesn’t really get along with my parents.”

She perks up at that. “I can’t imagine why. They seem amazing.”

I try to read her expression. It sounded sarcastic, but I don’t know her inflections yet, so I can’t swear to it.

Before I can ask her, movement near the gate catches my eye.

“Oh, shit. My boys are here.”

Her body locks up again, back ramrod straight, shoulders tense. It’s like she just heard a gun cock.

I put my arm around her and kiss her cheek. Poor thing is dreading another round of introductions. But my boys aren’t like my parents, so she’s worrying for nothing.

I stand to greet them.

Titus is first through the gate. Dayton’s right behind him, followed by Shara, all curves and bubbly smiles. She’s never far from his side.

When I introduce Raya, she smiles politely, but she’s still tense. I watch her out of the corner of my eye as they grab plates, waiting for her to snap out of it. But the tension lingers.

Once everyone is settled, I stand in the middle of the yard, tapping my finger against my bottle.

“Alright, listen up,” I say.

The conversation dies down, all eyes shifting to me.

“I wanted to wait until everybody was here before I made the big announcement.”

Titus grins and does a little fist pump, because he and Dayton have heard this already.

“I’m the lead engineer on a sustainable bridge project in Cedarville,” I say proudly.

The reaction is about what I was expecting; Kamryn and Vanessa smile and congratulate me. My boys nod knowingly. My parents? Subdued as always, but I tell myself they’re proud of me.

Indeed, Pop says the words. “Good job, Ace. Proud of you.”

“Yeah,” Mama agrees flatly, swirling the wine in her glass. “That’s a big deal. You must have had to work hard to get that.”

“I did.”

She nods, lips pursed. “Well, clearly it paid off.”

“Didn’t that project start last year?” Pop asks.

“Technically, yeah,” I say reluctantly. “The first firm fell through, so they brought us in.”

“So you weren’t the first choice,” Mama says, her voice light but cutting. “I mean, it’s still wonderful. I’m just asking.”

Before I can catch myself, my shoulders slump. Nothing I do is ever good enough for this woman.

“So that means you got a bonus, right?” Kamryn jumps in, her eyebrows wiggling.

I force a laugh and hit her shoulder. “If it does, I ain’t tellin’ you. Better take that greed over to Rico.”

I glance at Raya.

She looks…well, she ain’t amused.

Her eyes are hard and focused on my parents like they’re specimen under her microscope.

My gaze follows hers, wondering if I missed something, but they’re talking amongst themselves, not paying us any mind.

Yet.

A few minutes later, Mama re-enters the ring.

“So, Raya,” she says, turning toward her with a smooth smile. “Where’d you go to school?”

Raya doesn’t even blink before she says, “Spelman.”

Mama’s expression doesn’t shift, but I know she’s impressed. She only respects the black Ivies.

I try not to think about her lingering bitterness over me choosing Georgia Tech over Morehouse.

“That’s wonderful,” she says. “What year did you graduate?”

A beat of silence.

Raya reaches for her drink, fingers tight around the glass. “Um…2016.”

Kamryn’s eyes snap toward Raya, sharp and assessing.

“How old are you?” she asks, her voice as smooth as butter.

Raya’s jaw tightens. “I took a year off after high school,” she says quickly. “So I was a little behind. I’m 30.”

Kamryn hums her response.

Mama’s eyes lock in on Raya’s face. “And what do you do?”

“I’m an elementary school teacher,” she answers, sitting up a little straighter.

I realize I’ve never asked her what school she’s at. I turn to her. “Where do you teach?”

Her fingers grip her fork.

“It’s, uh…a small private school.” She waves a hand. “It’s nothing special.”

“Which one?” I press.

She hesitates, just for a second, and then, “Bradley Academy.”

I nod, even though it sounds made up. Something’s definitely off with her, but I’ll bring it up with her later. Right now, she still has my family to deal with.

Mama’s watching her closely. Kamryn’s smirking. Pop’s staring at her titties. Vanessa, the only one of us with even a little bit of sense, is looking between us all with her eyebrows raised.

When I glance back at Raya, a chill goes up my spine. There’s something in her eyes, something I haven’t seen before. A coldness. A hardness. And something smoldering…

Rage.

But when she notices me staring, her face immediately softens, and she flashes me a sweet smile, and I tell myself I must have imagined her looking like she wanted to light a match and burn this whole fucking cookout down.