Page 60 of The Phyre that Burns

“You can be honest with me, baby.”

“Can I?”

“Always?”

She put down the items she’d been using to apply her makeup and turned around to face me.

“It could’ve been me, or maybe how our first meeting occurred, but your mother isn’t a nice person, at least not to people who she deems are less than or not her equal.”

“I know.”

“I could tell you chose your words wisely when speaking to her.”

“If I don’t, there’s no telling what I’ll say. Listen, if you’re worried about me letting my mother disrespect you, don’t. I love her, but I only tolerate her most of the time. We meet up to share a meal a couple of times a month, and she might invite me over for dinner a few times a year when my father is out of town. After that shit went down between me and my father, my mother and I came to an understanding. We have a very surface-level relationship, and she made it clear that if she had to choose between me and her husband, she’d choose him every day of the week. As his wife, I can’t say she’s wrong for that.”

“But you’re her son.”

I shrugged because I had no comment.

“I’m sure it’s hard not being close to either of your parents. I couldn’t imagine.”

“It is what it is, but that’s why I try to keep the lines of communication open with my mother. I don’t expect much from her, and she doesn’t require much of me. As sad as it is, it works.”

“If you want to stay home, I’m cool with that. Let me wash?—”

“Nah. I want to show you off. Let’s go to the gala, but if I fake an emergency, go with it.”

She laughed. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. I’ll be ready by the time you are.”

About two hours later, I was in the foyer waiting for Ginae, even though she started getting ready well before I did. When I finally laid eyes on her, I fell in love with her all over again.

“Damn, baby,” I said before biting my bottom lip and extending my hand to her.

“You like?” she asked, doing a slow spin.

“Shit. I love.”

She wore a fitted and strapless, gold-beaded, ankle-length dress with a split that reached mid-thigh. It was not over-the-top, but far from simple, and she looked absolutely breathtaking.

“Thank you, baby. You clean up well yourself.”

I looked down at the black tuxedo I’d pulled from the back of my closet. It was one of many I wore in rotation when the need arose.

“I do okay, but having you on my arm will improve my looks a thousand times over.”

We shared a quick kiss before heading out. Once we were both settled inside my car, Ginae asked, “So, what should I expect?”

“It’s not much different from any other formal event you’ve ever been to, except it’ll be a room full of wealthy Black people. There are a few new families who recently joinedThe Collective, but most of these people were born into wealth.”

“The Collective. . . is that what it’s called?”

“It’sThe Black Collective, but we know everyone is Black, so we don’t always say it.”

“Interesting.”

We rode quietly for a few minutes, but I could tell Ginae had something on her mind, so I asked, “What are you thinking about?”