Page 32 of The Impact (Parachutes #3)

Chapter Eight

Tahli

“Let’s toast!” Abby raised her mocktail and Paige grimaced at it like it’d insulted her dead mother. The ballroom was gorgeous. Tahli’s family and friends were arriving in droves. The music thumped and the violet and gold décor conjured a regal feel.

“I mean, I’m proud of you and shit, Abs. You ain’t drink in like, what, seven years…?”

“Eight,” Abby corrected. “Eight years, four months, twenty-one days.”

Tahli nodded proudly.

“And that’s cool. But why can’t you just have water or ginger ale or something? The fuck is a mocktail? Fake drink. It’s like fake meat. It’s like – ”

“Like a dildo?” Abby combatted, brow cocked. Tahli aimed a finger of recognition that Paige screwed up her face to. “Nah, let’s keep that same energy, P. Fake meat is fake meat,” Abby teased. “Of course, we’d all rather have the real fucking thing. But if the real thing’s gonna kill ya ass…”

“The real thing is definitely gonna kill yo’ ass,” Tahli spoke of her own penis experience.

Paige smirked. “Whatever. Fuck you, by the way. What we toasting to?”

“Tahli! Turning 35 again.”

“AKA 36,” Paige mumbled.

“Won’t you shut the fuck up before we jump you,” Tahli raised a threatening fist, snickering.

“My bad. I’m hungry. I mean, this shit decked the fuck out, but I don’t smell no chicken frying, no steak sizzling, no collard green funk, nothing. Don’t ya dad and Vanessa know that when black people go to a party with food, they don’t eat all day? I don’t see not one pig in a blanket, nothing.”

“Paige, it just started,” Tahli chuckled, shaking her locs off her shoulder. “I got lipstick on my teeth?” She grinned, a little anxious. The text said he was on the way. Was it butterflies? Yes. Some butterflies had sprouted.

“No, you look great. Like… really great,” Abby complimented. “That dress is giving all the ass, hips, thighs, and tits.”

“Yeah, you look good enough to eat. So, stay the fuck away from me,” Paige joked, and Tahli nudged her shoulder.

Tahli’s 24 karat gold dress, short and sparkly, dipped low and choked her curves.

She’d bleached highlights through already golden tresses.

Got her septum pierced. Lost eleven pounds.

Traded in the Mercedes that matched with Vin’s for a Jeep Wagoneer.

Walked into a tattoo shop, picked out a design, and sat down.

But couldn’t bring herself to cover up the parachute.

It represented something beyond her marriage.

A significant space and time in her life.

She couldn’t rewrite history. So instead, she added a finger-length lotus flower to her shoulder blade, symbolizing rebirth and enlightenment, blooming in muddy water.

“Can we do the fucking toast already?” Abby called out, her little black dress highlighting her petiteness.

Paige was smooth in Tom Ford slacks that Tahli recognized from Vin’s abundant collection.

She paired them with a fitted silk collared shirt, tied at her waist. Pointed toe, flat slingbacks instead of a male-driven shoe.

Over the years, as Paige grew more confident in her identity, she no longer felt compelled to adopt overtly masculine attire as a quiet assertion of who she was.

Her aura spoke for itself now. Could be both masculine and feminine.

Take your bitch and leave a little lip gloss on her.

“A toast to Tahli!” Her father, sister, and Vanessa joined them. Dan had returned to Japan with Jonathan but sent a nice-ass Rolex as a parting gift.

“To the most annoying, giving, smart, beautiful, supportive, ride-or-die, mothafuckin’ friend. Friend GOAT, mom GOAT, daughter GOAT, professor GOAT, throat GOAT… Just greatest of all time!” Paige crowned her.

“What the hell is a throat goat?”

“Here, here!” Abby raised her glass before anyone could answer Robert.

“’Here, here?’ Super white,” Paige mocked before they all took a sip; Abby with a middle finger raised.

They were all jokes and merriment over the sounds of 2000’s R&B.

Ne-Yo’s Miss Independent had Tahli’s hands high, feeling better than she had in six months.

She grabbed Dali, her little Miss Independent in training, and forced her to dance with her.

Sisqó’s Thong Song had Tahli and Abby holding their knees, while Dali and Milo scrunched their faces at the content.

Terran danced across the floor to it in her poufy dress, as Tahli’s father danced up on Vanessa’s backside singing the words.

But Tahli called a time-out halfway into Usher’s Confessions Part II , beelining to the bar.

“Too close to home, huh?” Paige teased.

“Too soon, Paige!” She warned, as Usher sang about his chick on the side having a baby on the way.

“One more. But please don’t let me have another,” Tahli warned the bartender. “It’s my birthday. I want to keep it cute and demure.”

“Got you, sis.” The thick beauty rocking a shined bald head smiled rich red lipstick at her. Almost made Tahli second-guess passing on the red lip tonight, opting for earth-toned hues to match her dress.

“Damn,” came a smooth voice, along with a graze on her hip. “You know I watched you for a few minutes before I even walked over here. You look so beautiful, baby.”

Tahli grinned, tongue between her teeth, facing him.

“You made it.”

“I’d be stupid not to,” Drew wet his lips. Debonair. Honest. He had honest eyes.

As Tahli took the chance to admire the kind of fine he’d grown into, she surmised Drew could stand with Rome Flynn, Michael B Jordan, Kendrick Sampson, and there could be a debate on appeal. But beyond looks, he had the makings of a good Black man. Kind. Compassionate. Hard-working…Loyal.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Man,” she smiled up at him. Drew only shook his head.

“I can’t even form words. Like, this how we really doing 36?”

“I ain’t got no choice. Pressure needs to be consistently applied. Especially since I’m back in the dating pool competing with the 25-year-olds.”

“No, you’re not.”

Tahli’s brows jumped. “Oh?”

“Not this time, Miss Hall. You’re not getting away from me.

I understand taking it slow. I know you’ve only been divorced for about four months.

I understand playing the friend card for the kids, too.

You made it very clear that your kids come first, and I respect that.

But make no mistakes, neither one of us are single nor in anybody’s dating pool.

” Tahli bit her lip to the coveted assertion. Shit that made her spine tingle.

“I got a surprise for you.” Drew gripped her waist to sprinkle the last part into her ear, and Tahli swooned.

“For real? What is it?”

“Maíz callejero Mexicano,” Abby walked up to interrupt before he could reveal. Drew squinted.

“Okay, Abs, I give up. You gotta tell me what that means. I got maze and I got ‘Mexican’. I’m trying to utilize my ninth-grade Spanish, but I can’t get it.”

“You never will,” was Abby’s cryptic reply that Tahli glared at.

“How are you, Drew?” Abby redirected with exaggerated pep. “How was the traffic from D.C.?”

“I’m not sure. I’m coming from The W in Hoboken. Tahli didn’t tell you? My job had an opening in the city. I moved back to Jersey three weeks ago.”

“Gee gosh oh golly, that Tahli,” Abby swung her arm dramatically, and Tahli pulled back laughter. “She sure didn’t.”

“No? I thought I did.”

“Did what?” Paige joined. “Nice shoes.”

“Thanks, Paige. Gucci,” Drew threw in and Tahli wondered if he’d purchased them for the occasion. Drew made sporadic comments, subtle references to what he assumed Tahli was used to with Vin.

“Tell us that Drew moved to Jersey.”

“Back. Back to Jersey,” he corrected Abby, while Paige’s brown lips twitched in a smirk.

“I guess it slipped my mind,” Tahli crossed her arms, prepared for the criticisms. But this was her life that had gone up in flames. Her life she was rebuilding from rubble. She could move as slow or fast with whoever she wanted.

“Uh…on that note. I’ll be back. I’m gonna go get that surprise ready and give you ladies an opportunity to talk shit about me.” Drew held Tahli’s waist to lean in and whisper, “Sorry if I revealed too much.”

“It’s okay.” She gazed up into his eyes.

“I’ll be right back, Miss Lady.”

“Okay, Mr. Man.”

“Yo, I really think you be doing voodoo on people,” Paige started when Drew was out of earshot. “Ya mama taught you some witchcraft? ‘Cause I always imagined Cree dancing in the middle of the forest naked with skulls hanging from trees.”

Tahli’s look of sheer puzzlement did nothing to stop Paige.

“How he still that gone over you all these years later? Nigga moving back to Jersey after a few months of talking and some dates.”

“And some pussy. Don’t forget the pussy,” Abby muttered into her second mocktail, and Tahli glowered.

“He’s moving back for a job, not for me.”

“How long has he been living in D.C.? I know at least since Doll was a baby and Vin was blowing up my phone trying to get his address ‘cause he caught y’all dumb asses texting.” Tahli didn’t need Paige’s reminder. “There go Takeoff Tahli. Bitch Shaccari Richardson on these niggas.”

“Look. People move for work all the time. Look at Abby.”

“I moved back for you,” Abby corrected, frowning Tahli’s lips. “But I have a better question. Why do you always call him things like Mr. Man? Or Mr. Sir? Why don’t you use his last name? ‘Cause you used to Dalvin Hayes Vin to death.”

“What?” Tahli laughed off, stomach flipping a little. Paige squinted. Shit.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“What’s Drew’s last name?” Abby pressed.

“You don’t know?” Paige shrieked.

“I know. Of course, I know.” Tahli chewed her gel manicure before mumbling it inaudibly.

“What?” Abby’s pink finger curled around her ear.

“Dorcas! Alright? Damn.”

Paige sprayed her drink from her lips.

“Ew, Paige! You spit-showered my Valentino, hoe,” Tahli wiped her dress.

“Dorcas? As in Dork. Ass?” Paige broke up the syllables.