Page 7

As I sat in Gina’s chair with my eyes half-closed, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander as she ran the hot comb through the roots of my bangs, the scent of pressing grease filling the air. While most of my past hairstylists only used flat irons, Gina liked to switch it up a bit.

She side-eyed me through the mirror, her long acrylic nails tapping against the hot comb’s handle. “Okay, bitch. How long is it gonna take you to tell me how you had three fine ass men fawning all over you at the Club Fetish Freaknik Party over the weekend?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I lied, knowing damn well what she meant. But the thing with Gina was she didn’t know how to speak quietly.

As usual, the shop was packed this evening as everyone was trying to get their hair done for the numerous pride parades and Juneteenth festivals going on around town next week.

Miami was always lit, but June was when the locals liked to pop out and show the tourists how we did things in The Magic City.

Getting your hair done in the beauty shop was therapy for Black women. A community where we all got to be ourselves as we lounged under dryers, tilted our heads back over sinks, and got our hair styled.

“Quit lyin’, fren,” Gina stated, smacking her lips. “You’re living with Miami’s most eligible bachelors, and those niggas eyes were glued to yo’ ass like you were waving platinum pussy in front of their faces.”

I didn’t miss the nosey mmm hmm from Ms. Pam and Ms. Pat who didn’t even really come to the salon to get their hair styled. They were only here for the gossip.

“Living with them is … messy,” I finally said, lowering my voice so that hopefully Gina got the picture.

Although I definitely wasn’t talking about the house being messy.

The men were surprisingly clean. But my situation?

Yeah, that shit was a mess. I was packing up Rev’s room slowly, but it was harder than I thought, and a part of me liked keeping it as it was.

Then, whenever I asked them what really happened to Rev and the status on finding his killer, they changed the subject or just told me they were working on it.

“Girl, please.” She adjusted her grip on my hair and picked out a piece to flat iron this time after switching hair tools. “You’re in a damn dream house with three rich, sexy as hell men, and you expect me to believe it’s just messy ?”

The other stylists and clients within earshot leaned in, laughing and hyping her up. “Right! That sounds like a goddamn fantasy to me.”

I exhaled, shaking my head. “Y’all don’t understand.

They’re not just some random roommates. They were my brother’s best friends.

” I cleared my throat at the words, my thoughts never too far from thinking about Rev.

“That means they’re off-limits. So basically, it’s like living in a house full of big brothers. ”

Gina paused mid-straightening and gave me a look of disbelief. “Um, nah, fren. You don’t look at ‘em like big brothers.”

I felt the heat creep up my neck, partially from the flat iron, but mainly because she wasn’t lyin’.

Still, I kept my face blank when I said, “Ain’t nobody said all that.

I said it’s like living with big brothers, meaning they always try to tell me what to do and shit.

Not that I don’t notice how attractive they are.

But I’m pretty sure they just see me as Rev’s little sister. ”

Gina snorted. “Bitch, not you with that disappointed face.” She screamed while she laughed. “The way those men behaved the other night? Girl, hell nah. They don’t see you like a little sister. More like Rev’s sister who they want to fuck.”

A chorus of “Mmhmm” and “She right” echoed around the shop.

“They’re just being nice because we all miss Rev, and they know how much I meant to him.”

Gina cocked an eyebrow, switching to the other side of my head. “So all three of those fine ass specimens are only nice to you because of your connection to Rev?”

I nodded and muttered a quick, “Yeah,” hoping Gina would drop it, but of course she never did anything I wanted her to do.

“You mean to tell me,” she continued, lowering her voice just a little, “that the jokester who always got you laughin’ when you ain’t even in the mood, the deep thinker always askin’ about your soul and shit, and the quiet one who just so happens to know your favorite meal and have it ready when you come home only do all that shit because they are … nice?”

Shit. I stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. I had told her all that when we met for lunch the other day because I was happy that we were all getting into a daily routine together. Yet, when she put it like that …

“You know they’re into some freaky shit, right?” Gina eyed me through the mirror again.

“What do you mean?” I asked, causing a few ladies to glance around the room wearing a who-is-gonna-tell-her expression.

Gina stopped doing my hair and held my eyes in the mirror. “All I know is that there are a few women in this city who have claimed to have been with each of them.”

My eyes widened. “They all dated the same woman before?”

Gina shook her head. “Not dated, sis. Fucked. There’s a difference.”

What the hell? I was still trying to wipe the shocked look from my face when Gina got started on my hair again. Yet, I still felt a lot of eyes on me. I was seconds away from asking what I was missing when another client chimed in, sipping her iced coffee.

“Girl, you ever think that maybe all three of them want you?”

My stomach flip flopped at her words. Yes, I have!

I thought about it my first night at the house.

I dreamt about it my third night there. By the first week I felt guilty as hell for feeling like I wasn’t grieving properly since I found myself going to a local bookstore to find every why choose romance novel that I could to study up on the genre.

“That’s ridiculous,” I said instead.

Gina let out a loud cackle. “What’s ridiculous is you playin’ dumb.” She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. “What you gon’ do if they all make a move?”

Run.

Hide.

Spread my legs.

Lawd, I was all over the place. I waved her off, my voice teasing when I announced, “Y’all watch too many romance movies.”

“Fuck romance,” Gina spat. “If he ain’t slappin’ my ass, chokin’ me out, then makin’ me beg for it all over again, we definitely ain’t finna fall in love.

” Leaning down to my ear, she whispered, “For real though, Santari … I know you’re freaking out right now on the inside, but do me a favor and just go with the flow.

Don’t overthink it, and don’t feel guilty for trying to move on with your life even if your brother isn’t here anymore. Rev would want you to live a little.”

Gina was a hot mess, but she really was a good friend. “Thanks, sis.”

Unfortunately, overthinking it was exactly what I did because there was no way in hell that my brother thought living on the edge meant getting freaky with his friends. But the whole ride home, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The way Cruz always had me laughing, even when I didn’t feel like there was anything to laugh about. How Storm watched me, like he actually listened to every word I said and cared about what was beneath the surface. And Titan, quiet and steady, always knowing what I needed before I even said it.

I shook my head, gripping the wheel tighter. “No, Santari, this wave of thinking will get you nowhere. Don’t let the ladies from the beauty salon send you off.”

Sometimes gossip was just that. I wasn’t even sure if anything the ladies said about the guys was true, and even if it was, I could barely juggle being with one man, but three? That wasn’t about to be my life.

When I pulled up to the house, I sighed, trying to get my mind right.

They were just my roommates. My brother’s friends.

And they owed me answers I still didn’t have.

Those were the facts. Yet, the moment I stepped inside, I was reminded exactly why everything I was trying to convince myself of was a damn lie.

“Yo, Kerry Washington. You look good wit’ the fresh press and curl.”

I barely got the door closed before Cruz popped up in front of me, grinning like he had been waiting to roast me the second I walked in. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded over his chest and his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I narrowed my eyes. “What was that?”

“Nothin’. Just sayin’ you walked in here like you know you look good.”

I smirked and did a little spin in my summer dress. “Maybe ‘cause I do.” I glanced at the top of his head. “Unlike you wit’ those busted edges. When are you letting Gina touch up your locs again?”

He clutched his chest dramatically. “Oh, so that’s the energy we on today?”

I rolled my eyes, but I was already fighting a smile. We both knew his locs looked good, but that was the thing with Cruz. He was the worst kind of trouble.

Charismatic, funny, and fine as hell in that ‘I don’t even have to try, I always look this good’ kinda way.

Sometimes when he looked at me with that playful look in his eyes, I found myself smiling so hard that I forgot what I was saying mid-sentence …

like now, as I tripped over his gym bag on the floor.

“Be careful,” he reprimanded, clutching me by the elbow to keep me from falling. “Yo’ ass stay clumsy, runnin’ into shit.”

It’s your fault for lookin’ so good! Instead of saying that, I rolled by eyes and yanked my arms from his warm grasp, pushing aside the way my skin tingled with awareness where he touched.

“You’re the one who keeps leaving shit around for me to trip over.

” I kicked his gym bag. “What the fuck do you even have in there?”

He shrugged. “A bunch of stuff, but mostly boxing gear. I fill in for my guy Mekhi by teaching a women’s self-defense class whenever he can’t.”