Page 23

23

Ace

I don’t usually do this kind of thing.

And by that, I mean dropping a couple thousand dollars on a woman on a whim just because she had a bad day.

But Raya isn’t just any woman, which is why I’m sitting here, parked in her driveway with a bouquet of pink roses and a brand-new Louis Vuitton bag riding shotgun.

I also don’t usually pop up all unannounced and eager to surprise. But I wanna see the look on her face when she sees what I brought her.

She mentioned wanting a bag when we were in Hilton Head. I ain’t into women’s fashion like that, but between Vanessa, Kamryn, and most of the women I’ve dated, I know quality when I see it. Raya’s bags have all been trash. But that ain’t her fault. She doesn’t make enough to buy what she wants.

So here I am to give her what she wants.

I look around me, still not loving this neighborhood. The sun hasn’t fully set, so there’s still some light out here, but shit still looks dangerous. A few YNs glare at me from a porch down the block, making me glance at my glove box. I’m licensed to carry and all, but I’ve never had to actually use my gun. I’m not trying to use it today, either.

Funny, last time I was here, it was pitch black and way more threatening, and yet I walked my happy ass around the side of the house without even thinking about arming myself.

Power of the pussy.

At least I’m walking up to the front door this time.

I step out, flowers and gift in hand, and approach the house. It’s dark except for a single light glowing behind the curtains. The same eerie stillness from last time settles over me. No TV sounds. No music playing. Just the chirp of crickets in the thick late summer air.

I knock.

A few seconds pass before the door creaks open, but instead of Raya, a young woman in scrubs stands in the doorway.

Not what I was expecting. I pause. “Uh…hey. Is Raya here?”

She blinks up at me, her eyes widening slightly before getting stuck on my face. “Um…ahem…she’s not home yet.”

I nod. “Cool. Can you let her know I came by?”

She smiles. “Yes. But, who are you?”

“Oh. My bad.” I laugh, despite my discomfort. “I’m Ace.”

She stares.

“Raya’s boyfriend.”

No recognition at all behind those big brown eyes. “Nice to meet you,” she says softly.

Then her gaze drops to my hands, and she gets that dreamy look some women get when they see presents. “You should come in!” she says, suddenly bright and eager. “She shouldn’t be long.”

I should just hand over the flowers and the bag and be on my merry way, but my feet move before my mind decides.

I step inside.

The air in the house is thick, almost stagnant, with a faint medical scent that’s much too familiar for me.

I’m not staying long.

It’s quiet. I glance around, noting the neat, homey feel of the house. Framed pictures, frilly lace curtains, table lamps, a glass bowl full of peppermint candies on the coffee table—but it kinda feels like a relic, or a time capsule. Frozen in time, maybe 2005.

I wonder when her mother left.

“I didn’t catch your name,” I say to the young lady. As soon as it’s out of my mouth, my eyes land on the name embroidered on her scrubs. Faith.

She gives me an embarrassed smile. “I’m Faith. I take care of Mr. Ashford.”

That makes me pause. “Her father?”

“…Yes,” she says, like she knows she’s said too much. She tilts her head, trying to read me. “She didn’t tell you?

At this point, I’m more surprised when Raya does tell me shit.

But I just say, “Tell me what?”

Faith doesn’t answer. Instead, she starts down the hall. “I actually need to check on him. I’ll be right back.”

A slow uneasy feeling creeps up my spine as I watch her disappear down the hall. I set the flowers and the bag on the couch and follow her, moving slowly.

Something is off. Raya never once mentioned that her father needed a nurse. It’s not the kind of thing she would need to hide. There’s no shame in that. No judgment. So, what the fuck? Another secret.

The realization sits in my stomach like a brick.

She crosses the threshold into the room. I wait a few seconds, then creep up to the door. When I peer around the corner, her back is to me, and I can see wheels a few inches from her feet.

When Faith steps away, a man in a wheelchair comes into view. His skin is sunken, his eyes dull and hollow. A thin blanket covers his lap, but even from where I stand, I can tell his legs are frail.

Why the fuck would she not mention this to me, even in passing? It’s not a big deal, but it’s a big fucking deal.

She doesn’t want me to know her, which is just my luck, because she’s the first woman I’ve wanted to know in as long as I can remember.

Shit—

His eyes are on me.

The hair on my arms stands up, but I push past the doorway to greet him anyway. My mama taught me manners.

“How you doin’, sir? I’m Ace.”

His yellow eyes blink slowly, not moving from my face.

I stop when I’m close enough to shake his hand.

“I don’t know if Raya mentioned me,” I say with an uneasy laugh, “but, we’re dating. I wanted to introduce myself. Out of respect.”

His fingers twitch against the blanket. I’m just getting ready to lift my hand when he reaches out and grabs my arm.

His grip is weak but urgent, his bony fingers tightening like he’s hanging on for dear life. His mouth moves, but no sound comes out. His eyes are wild and filled with something I can’t place—pleading, maybe. Desperation. Fear.

I pull back slightly. “Hey, man, you good?”

His grip tightens. His mouth opens wider, his throat working like he’s trying to speak, but still, silence. His breathing gets ragged. His whole body is straining like he’s fighting something.

“Sir? What’s—“

“What are you doing?”

Faith’s sweet voice cracks through the room like a whip.

I jerk back, shaking off the man’s grip as she rushes over.

“I—"

I run a hand down my face. “He grabbed me. I think something’s wrong with him.”

Faith’s eyes flicker between me and him, her mouth pressed into a thin line, her face neutral.

Too neutral.

Something isn’t right.

I know it. She knows it.

“I’m gonna go,” I mutter, already stepping back.

Nobody stops me as I turn and walk out the door.

I make it back to my car, my mind swirling with thoughts.

What the fuck else has this girl not told me?

I pull out my phone and hit her number, not even sure of what I’ll say when she answers. It rings a few times before she picks up. Loud music and the din of conversation spill through the line.

“Hey,” she says, her voice smooth, completely unbothered.

“Where you at?”

“Out.”

“Where?”

A beat of hesitation. It’s just long enough to confirm she doesn’t want me to know. Then, in the background, I hear a woman’s voice.

“Is that him?”

There’s rustling, then the sound of her hand covering the speaker. When she comes back, all she says is, “I’ll call you later.”

Before I can press her, the woman yells something.

I catch it just before the line goes dead.

Captain’s. It’s a sports bar off Moreland.

I stare at my screen for a second, anticipating a callback, but when none comes, I toss my phone on the passenger seat next to me. Then I start the car.

The bar is packed.

I’ve been here once or twice before. Cool little spot to drink cheap and watch a game. A DJ rolls through some evenings. Tonight is one of them.

I spot her instantly.

She and some woman sit at the bar, drinks in hand—no club soda tonight—and deep in conversation. Raya’s hair is curly, and her dress is hugging her in all the places I like and riding just high enough to piss me off. She looks good as fuck. Too good for somebody who rushed me off the phone and acted like she didn’t want me to know where she was.

Cool.

We’re about to see what else she’s hiding.

I take a seat in a dimly lit corner booth where I can watch without being seen.

The other chick is a little older, but she’s fine, too, in a tank top and some ripped jeans. Hair is short and platinum blonde. Sexy, Targaryen lookin ass.

My irritation deepens.

I wonder if that’s a friend. Ain’t no tellin’. I don’t even know if Raya has friends.

A man approaches and walks right up on my girl. He leans in and says something directly in her ear. She laughs—not in a way that says she’s interested, but in a way that tells me she likes the attention.

My jaw clenches even though he walks away empty-handed.

I’m not even jealous. I don’t get jealous. I don’t get close enough to women to care enough to get jealous. But Raya, once again, is different.

She belongs to me, so this whole display has me on notice. Of course niggas try to get at her. She’s fine as fuck. I’d be confused if they didn’t. But I expect her to conduct herself a little better than this.

It would be different if she knew I was watching.

Fuck.

I sound like Ian and Connor. Them white boys love that cuck shit. That sit-in-the-corner-and-watch-my-wife-get-fucked shit. Niggas don’t move like that, though.

And yet…

I don’t know.

If she knew I was watching, I could see her playing that shit up to piss me off. She likes me pissed off. And I kinda like being pissed off.

But this shit here is annoying.

A waiter comes by and drops a napkin on the table.

“Can I start you with a drink?”

With my eyes still locked on her, I say, “Shot of Hennessey. And you see those two sitting at the bar? One got white hair?”

I pull out my wallet while he follows my gaze.

“Whatever they order, put it on here.”

I hand him my Amex, then pick up my phone.

In the time it took for me to order a drink, she just shot down another nigga.

He seemed nice

She picks up her phone, stares at the screen, and frowns. When she pops her head up, her eyes scan her immediate area, but she doesn’t see me.

Raya

Where are you?

Don’t worry about it

She shifts, leaning over to say something to the blonde.

You’re watching me? Creepy

Oh, word? NOW it’s creepy?

She smirks.

Yeah

Nice dress. You look like you tryna get chose

I already got chose

Act like it

She picks up her drink and takes a slow sip. Then—

Did you not see me turn them down?

I saw you smiling in niggas faces while you dressed like you wanna get put through a fucking mattress

A pause, and then—

That’s exactly what I want

Fuck her for making my dick hard.

I adjust myself under the table, shifting in my seat as she looks around again.

Keep on

What?

Keep fuckin with me if you want to

Her posture changes. Her face changes. Subtle, but I recognize it, because despite her best efforts to keep me at a distance, I’m starting to know her a little bit.

What are you gonna do?

There it is.

A challenge. Mind finna be all fucked up. I don’t understand how she spins me around like this. Or worse, why I let this shit happen to me. And just like that, I’m not here to call her out on her secrets anymore.

I’m here to remind her exactly who the fuck she belongs to.

I’ll drag yo ass up outta here. Don’t pmo

Lol relax. You’re a scientist

That ain’t what you be sayin when them legs are on my fuckin shoulders

She bites her lip.

Ok nerd

Smart ass mouth bout to get you in trouble

Don’t threaten me with a good time

Stfu

Make me nigga

I laugh to myself, shaking my head as my guy comes back with the Hen.

I’m glad she said that. It’s good to know she ain’t let the degrees fool her, and that she knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I absolutely am still a nigga.