Page 24 of You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty

“Stop it,” she giggled, “we’re in public.”

“I don’t care,” he said, kissing her mouth.

The plane jolted in its descent, and Feyi gasped, the sound losing itself as it wound around Nasir’s tongue. He broke away from her reluctantly and caressed her gold braids.

“Thank you so much for coming with me,” he said, his eyes earnest. “I know you’ve got work to do and all, but still. It’s so dope to have you here.”

Feyi blushed—she was never sure what to do when he was so affectionate, the words didn’t spring into her mouth as easily as they did for him. Instead, she kissed him again and hoped he could feel it that way, as the plane dragged them down toward his home.

• • •

After they got through immigration and were waiting for their bags, Nasir turned to Feyi. The air was hot and humid, you could almost smell the water in it. They were standing by a pillar, in the path of a loud air conditioner.

“There’s something maybe you should know before you meet my dad,” he said.

Feyi leaned her backpack against her calf and waited, listening. Nasir ran a hand through his hair and scuffed his foot. “It’s just— he’s a little different from how he appears on TV.”

“Aren’t most people?” she replied. She’d never seen him look this awkward, not since the first night they’d met at the bar. It was endearing but unexpected.

“Not like that,” he said. “He’s just more … effeminate in person.” Nasir said this in a rush, like it had to be thrown out of his mouth, and then he kept going, the words tumbling over each other. “Sometimes it throws people off, but it doesn’t mean anything, it’s just how he is—so I wanted to give you a heads-up.”

Feyi frowned. She wasn’t sure where he was going with this, or why he was telling her. Maybe because things down here could be a little … somehow?

“Is your dad gay?” she asked, and Nasir flushed all the way through the deep brown of his skin.

“No!” he said, a little too loudly, enough that some people turned and looked. Feyi had never heard him raise his voice before, and she fought the urge to take a step away from him. Nasir dropped his head, shame cloaking his body, and lowered his voice. “No. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s just different, but he’s not gay, okay?”

Feyi put a hand on his arm. He looked more scared than angry, and she didn’t quite understand why. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m sorry, I was just asking.”

Nasir was knotting his fingers together, trying to compose himself. “It’s fine,” he replied. He slid his hands into his pockets and gave Feyi a small smile, meeting her eyes reluctantly. “We had some problems with the tabloids down here a year or two ago and things got ugly, that’s all. I didn’t mean to pop off like that.”

“It’s okay. That sounds like it must’ve been really stressful.”

“Yeah.”

The luggage carousel clicked into motion, motors grinding. Feyi and Nasir fell into silence as they waited for the bags to come out, watching for his duffel and her suitcase. It took several minutes before they spotted them, the red tinsel Feyi had tied to the handles curled into spirals. Nasir pulled the bags off the belt, then dropped a kiss on Feyi’s cheek to show he was back, that he was okay now.

“Let’s go meet my family,” he said, his voice warm and light again, his mouth pulling into a broad smile. Feyi smiled back, relieved to see him clear, and followed him out through the doors and into the waiting heat.

• • •

It was easy to recognize Alim Blake in the crowd of people gathered outside the arrival hall—bodies and voices flowed around him in streams, a map of movement while he stood in the sun, a fixed point. The man had presence, gallons of it radiating out into the air like a force field. His skin was the color of wet coal, mineral rich against the white linen he was wearing—a shirt with rolled-up sleeves, buttons open to his chest, loose trousers. It was chaos out there, but no one bumped into Alim, no one so much as touched him, except those who stopped to shake his hand and greet him. He was charming with them, touching arms and shoulders, crouching to smile at a little girl in a pinafore who was babbling excitedly, her mother watching fondly. The child held out her arms, and as Alim was hugging her, Nasir walked through the doors of the arrival hall, wheeling Feyi’s suitcase with his duffel over his shoulder.

Feyi was walking behind him, and she caught the exact moment Alim saw his son, when his eyes widened and filled with a love so radient it hurt to behold, transforming his face from something calm into something fierce and burning. Alim unfolded and said goodbye to the child, brushing a kiss against the mother’s cheek, but he didn’t move toward her and Nasir. Instead, he stood right where he was and held out his arms for his son to step into them. Nasir dropped his duffel on top of the suitcase and entered his father’s embrace without a word. Feyi stood by the bags, noticing small details about Alim, Nasir’s raised voice echoing in her head.

Alim’s nails were manicured and shiny, there was a touch of a deliberate bronze on his cheekbones, maybe even some pigment on his lower lip, like a faint rouged memory. His body hung in the air, redolent with grace. When he kissed Nasir’s temples, the corners of his eyes wrinkled with pleasure. His face was dotted with small sunspots, clustered on his sharp cheekbones, and his hair was shot through with silver, textured sections with tight coils. Nasir came up to his father’s shoulders, and while Nasir was built from hitting the gym with Milan, Alim was lean and corded. With fresh alarm, Feyi noticed a twinge of attraction unfurling in her stomach.

It was the last thing she’d expected. When she’d met both Milan and Nasir, she’d been drawn to them because the want had started in their eyes. It had beckoned her over like bait, calling her until she built a mirror, reflecting it back to them. This was foreign, the want bursting small but insistent in her belly, a warm pool. Alim wasn’t just a handsome face on a television screen; he was real, he was looking at Nasir, and now Feyi could see what love looked like on his face. It illuminated him from inside, much like how Nasir had lit up when Lorraine came into the bar the night Feyi had met him. She held on to her suitcase handle, desperately wishing Joy was there with her.

Nasir turned back and reached out a hand to her. “Dad, this is Feyi,” he was saying.

Feyi pushed a smile forward as she took Nasir’s hand and came up to both of them. Alim put a hand on her shoulder.

“Feyi,” he said, her name rolling off his tongue like coconut sugar melting. “I’m so glad to meet you. Welcome home.” His voice was slightly accented, smooth and crisp, and her shoulder was aflame under his palm, like his skin was burning through the cotton of her T-shirt.

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Blake.” Feyi braced herself, but she couldn’t stop the want from boiling over inside her when she looked up at him. Alim’s irises were gray, encircled by a corona of swirling brown that spilled into the oat-milk whites of his eyes. His eyelashes were long and black.

“Please,” he said. “Call me Alim.”