Page 10 of The Deals We Make

“Guess I got business,” I say to Switch. Not sure a nap was gonna work anyway. They rarely do. And I’m used to pulling all-nighters. Especially when there’s a threat and I need to keep tabs on everyone. “Call us if you get out earlier.”

We watch the two of them go inside, and then I turn to Saint. “What business have we got?”

I expect him to say King has given us a job we need to do on the down low, so I’m surprised to see a shit-eating grin on his face. “We’re going to buy an engagement ring.”

“You’re proposing to Briar?”

“Well, as cute as you fucking are, I’m not proposing to you.”

I hug the man I once thought was my enemy. “Congratulations. You want to take the truck?”

“Let’s walk. Says it’s about twenty minutes on my phone.” Saint looks happier, more carefree than I’ve seen him in a while as we start walking. “I’ve paid back the club, so I’m finally getting a full cut of the pay from this month.”

Fuck, I’d forgotten that had been a penalty for Saint’s treacherous, yet brave, joining of the club. It was one of the terms Prez laid out when we voted that Saint could remain a member.

I guess that’s something the two of us have in common. We didn’t initially join the club by choice, but over time chose to stay.

“No shit. Congratulations, brother.” I remember when we found out Saint was an undercover agent. Thought King was gonna kill the fucker. “That kinda cash is going to make a difference.”

“We just finished renovating the house from top to bottom too. But Briar’s been patient as fuck. Never asked when her ring’s coming, even as she’s watched other old ladies get one. But I didn’t want to buy her one while I was broke. Some tiny chip of a thing.”

I think about the small engagement ring my mom has loved and treasured all these years. “It’s not the size of the rock—it’s the size of the heart that goes along with it. You know that, right?”

Saint stuffs his hands in his pockets as we walk. “Yeah. But I wanted her rock to say something. Wanted it to show how much I love her. How much she means to me. That the toughest part of our lives is over with.”

I look up at the flurries as they swirl to the ground. “Tribulation finds each and every one of us all through our lives. Maybe that rock should speak to endurance. Of what happens to a bit of carbon when it’s put under intense pressure. How it somehow comes out sparkling.”

Saint stops walking, and it takes me a moment before I realize it. “What?” I ask when he turns around.

“Wow, the geek has a poetic soul.”

I flip him the bird and start walking again.

“No, I’m serious,” Saint says, jogging to catch up with me. “I’m totally going to make that part of my proposal.”

“When are you thinking of doing it?”

“I’m gonna book us a trip. She’s always wanted to see Las Vegas. Thought I would do it there…if I can wait that long.”

We walk for another twenty minutes, past shoppers bundled up against the cold. Scarves are pulled high, and thick boots ensure warm feet. The streets have been plowed, the sidewalks are a hit-and-miss maze of snow piles.

“Shit, we need to cross the street,” Saint says. He points to the store, spots a gap in traffic, and hustles across.

I only realize five seconds later, and by then the lights have changed and I missed the gap in traffic Saint caught. “Shit,” I mutter, looking around to see if it would be better to find a crosswalk.

Suddenly, I hear a squeal and see a woman struggling to keep her balance on a patch of ice. Without thinking, I hustle and catch her just as both legs go out from underneath her.

A whisper tells me I should have just let her fall. It’s tough to know what scares white people most about me, the fact I’m abiker or the fact I’m Black. But I couldn’t just stand there and watch her hit the ground.

“Impractical shoe choice,” I say as I put her feet on the floor. “You might wanna?—”

Fuck.

Calista Moray has grown into a beauty. Like one of those movies where the nerdy girl gets the makeover. Her skin looks so luminous and soft.

“Tiberius,” she says.

For a moment, we forget who we are, who we were, and what we now mean to each other. Connection crackles. Familiar hazel eyes ringed with gold look up at me. She has more of a tan now than she ever used to. And the hair that used to frizz in damp weather is smooth as silk, yet still the color of spun gold. But Momma said she’d been living out West where the sun shines a lot more than it does in Jersey.