by Diana W.
Cornell closed his eyes and felt the heaviness in his chest. He hated seeing her like this, like some empty shell completely removed from reality.
“Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me,” he completed the rest of the verse. “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.” He went silent, hoping it would incline her to finish. Anytime she recited a scripture, he would memorize it as a way to communicate with her. When he realized she wasn’t responding, he felt a sense of defeat.
“Thou anointest my head with oil. My cup runneth over.” She placed a hand on his head and began to stroke his hair. “Hey, baby.”
Cornell smiled gratefully. “Hey, Mama.”
“When’d you get here?” She held his face in her hands, admiring how handsome he was. “Why’d you wait so long to come see me? I thought you said every week?”
Cornell wanted to tell her that he never missed a week since he hired Miss Lou Ann over two years ago, but it would only confuse her. “You were asleep the past few times I came by, and I didn’t wanna wake you,” he lied. “How do you feel?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Every morning it’s a new ache.” She shrugged her small shoulders and laughed. “It’s the price of time. But enough about me, how are my other babies? I miss them so much. They come by even less than you do.”
Cornell knew both Mo and Clark had been by in the past couple of weeks. “They’re good. Busy as usual. All of us are.”
“Hmm.” She let him go and wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Her mood noticeably shifted. “You all still doing the devil’s work, huh?” She looked back out at the trees.
Cornell sighed and stood to his feet. He knew when he was being dismissed. “We’re all fine, Mama.” It was another lie, but there was no reason to add those burdens to her plate.
“I may be a lot of things, Cornell Robert Gaines, but stupid ain’t one of ‘em,” she huffed. “You’re not fine. None of you are.” She looked back at him. “It’s in your eyes. It’s always in your eyes.”
Cornell took a seat on the front edge of her perfectly made bed. “What’s in my eyes?” he asked, wondering if his exhaustion was that evident. In addition to his hectic schedule, his nightmares were kicking up and making his nights even longer. He needed to take a break and get away from the city for a while, but now that Harley was in the picture, he couldn’t afford not to be around.
“Duress.” She looked back and studied his face. “All he causes is duress, baby. Destruction and duress.”
He didn’t have to ask who he was. She had been warning them about their father for years.
Her attention drifted back to the window. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.”
"Mama?” He called out to her again, hoping she hadn’t checked out on him. “I take it you like the new sound system?”
She didn’t respond, leaving Cornell to conclude that it was time to go. He didn't want to upset her any more than he already had.
“I love you.” He placed a lingering kiss on the side of her head. When he pulled away, she grabbed his hand.
“There’s a storm coming.” She kissed his knuckle and held it to her cheek. “Protect your peace and prepare your armor.”
Completely at a loss, Cornell simply nodded to appease her. “I will. I promise.”
“Good.” She let go of him and went back to the window.
He went into the dining room and kitchen to make sure everything was in good condition and passed back through her room to make his exit. Just as he was about to close her bedroom doors, she called his name.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Can you put on a Prince song on your way out?”
Shocked but pleased, Cornell laughed. Every time he thought he had lost her, she would remind him in her own way that he hadn’t.
“Will do.” He continued to grin as he did as he was requested, said his goodbyes to Miss Lou Ann, and then got into his car and pulled off. He would normally spend a few hours with his mom, but he had to go check on Harley and make sure that she was prepared for the night.
CHAPTER 14
Harley held her breath when Cyn, her appointed handler, who had been barking orders to the hairstylists, nail tech, and makeup artist, zipped her into the wiggle-less dress. As vocal as she came across, she barely talked to Harley, until recently, and that was only to direct her to try on the dress.
She spun Harley around to face the mirror so that she could finally view the completed look. Speechless, Harley carefully touched her cheek and then her hair that cascaded in waves down to the top of her breasts. Until then, when she wasn’t wearing the faux locs or braids, she only sported her hair in its natural coils. She hardly recognized herself.
Harley couldn’t even bask in the enjoyment of her new look for long because she saw Cyn roll her eyes from behind her in the mirror, and it was all she needed to hit the kill switch on her mood. She spun around, just as Cyn began pecking away at her phone, the same thing she’d been doing pretty much the entire day when she wasn’t being a bitch.
“Is there a problem?” One of Harley’s now perfectly arched and painted eyebrows shot to the ceiling. She was already annoyed that she couldn’t eat anything but toddler portioned snacks because the dress was unforgiving in the stomach region, and she couldn’t risk showing the smallest imperfection.
“I beg your pardon?” Cyn barely looked up from her phone, wondering who Harley was speaking to.
“You’ve been giving me nasty looks all day, and I don’t understand what I’ve done to you other than breathe the same air as you.”
Annoyed, Cyn lowered her phone to her side. “Look, I don’t care what kind of jump-off you are, you need to watch your tone when you address me.”
Harley had to chuckle at her ignorance. “Listen,” she pushed her palms together in prayer mode to stop herself from ruining the perfection she suffered to achieve for the last six hours. She’d revel in too much pleasure by giving her a black eye and then shit would really hit the fan with Cornell. “I don’t know what your relationship is with Cornell, but it’s none of your concern that ours is strictly a business one. Nobody wants him but you, sis, so turn down whatever you’re emitting because it isn’t a good look for somebody like you.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Taken aback by Harley’s accusation, Cyn placed the phone down on the bed in the guest bedroom they were standing in and prepared to throw hands.
Harley rolled her eyes and went back to the mirror when she realized Cyn was like one of those chihuahuas barking from inside the safety of a screen door. She wouldn’t get busy if Harley charged her. It was all a front to ward off anybody that came her way.
“It means you’re too pretty for the mean girl bullshit, and I’m sure Cornell wouldn’t appreciate whatever this issue is between us.” Harley continued to finger her hair. She was never one to back down from a fight, but she could tell by Cyn’s initial reaction that she and Cornell weren’t in a sexual relationship either. She did believe, however, that Cyn may have had a thing for him, but either way, Harley didn’t have the physical energy to have a pointless fight right now unless it was over a chicken sandwich. They could square off gladiator-style if it came down to that.
Cyn wasn’t sure what to do with that backhanded compliment. Her attitude hadn’t been the best because she was pissed at Cornell for making her organize all of these people last minute to come and give Harley a makeover. He only told her that she was a special friend and all but dismissed her when she pushed for more information, something he’d never done before.
“Do you like the dress?” Cyn asked, attempting to steer away from their heated exchange. It probably still came across aggressive, but at least she was trying.
Harley immediately recognized an olive branch when she saw one, and for the sake of peace went along with it. “It’s beautiful.”
“I picked it out,” Cyn admitted
, finally feeling her anger somewhat deflate.
“Good shit.” Harley nodded at her through the mirror. “The blazer you have on is dope as hell too.” She referred to the purple embroidery covering it. Harley wasn’t a fashionista by any means and usually wore whatever made her feel good, but she appreciated those who could rock unconventional clothing. “Your style is fly.”
“Thanks.” Cyn smiled for what had to be the first time that day. She wasn’t the apologizing type, but Harley calling her out made her feel a certain way for some reason. “My bad about—”
“We’re good,” Harley cut her off, not needing the rest of the apology. “But if you can get me something real to eat before I go all Hulk-level hangry and bust out of this lovely dress you picked out, we could be even better.”
The two women shared an unexpected laugh and Cyn nodded. “Let me see what I can do.” She left out the room, leaving Harley to herself.
Harley turned back to the mirror and ran her hand over hips, still in awe of the mermaid-style dress. She wondered if Justin would appreciate how it molded to her frame like a second skin. The entire look was conservative, overall, only leaving her arms bare, but there was no way to hide her curves unless she wore a sheet.
Harley next went to put on the jewelry laid out on the bed for her and froze when she saw Cornell standing in the doorway watching her. His intense gaze was more unsettling than she had ever witnessed.
“You look...different,” he greeted.
Slightly weirded out and suddenly self-conscious, Harley held her hand over her stomach and found her nerve. “That’s what you wanted, right? The ‘less ethnic look’?” She reached for the diamond-laced necklace.
“Allow me.”
Cornell stepped fully into the room, revealing his black tuxedo. Harley tried not to stare at him, but she was a sucker for a clean-cut man who knew exactly how good he looked, even if said man was an asshole. She didn’t realize he was attending the gala too, but now it made all the sense in the world that he would be.
“No, thank you.” She grabbed the necklace and went back to the mirror. She hated that he was there, rattling her, per usual, with his dominating presence. It was something that she alone was used to possessing.
“Miss Dupree.” He approached her from behind, realizing his view of her from the doorway was child’s play. Harley’s dress fit her just as he envisioned it would. When Cyn showed him the selection she made, he knew Harley would do the otherwise simplistic dress justice. She didn’t need the help of sequins or some heavily beaded design because her curves would bring the garment to life. And staring at her now, its goddamn heartbeat was strong.
“For this arrangement to work,” he watched her struggle to clasp the heavy necklace behind her neck, “we need to come to some sort of truce.”
Growing increasingly frustrated, Harley huffed. “Truce? What would that even look like?”
“First,” he stepped closer to her, causing Harley to feel as if the air had been sucked from the room. His cologne was almost as domineering as he was. It was everything how a man should smell— confident, sexy, and full of swag, “let me help you when it’s needed.” He gently took the necklace from her hands. “Hold your hair up for me.”
Harley sighed and acquiesced as she watched him in the mirror. He centered the cold necklace on her chest, sending goosebumps down her arm when his fingertips made contact with her skin, and wrapped it around her neck, finally locking it in place.
Cornell felt like a complete creep for wanting to smell Harley's hair, but anytime they were within radius, his mind relived that night at Madam Sinclair’s. The thought of her hands on his body created an insatiable urge. One he could never act on now that he knew the truth about her.
“And what’s second?” Harley faced him.
“Your success is my success.” He studied her face as he adjusted his bow tie. She was a work of art. Not a strand of hair was out of place and her makeup was Essence magazine-worthy. “It’s ok to dislike me, but I need to know when you need help too. We need you to be confident in this situation.”
The term “we” made Harley want to rip off his bow tie and drive her heel through it. She was almost willing to play nice with him until that statement. She didn’t need to be reminded that she was a mere pawn in his high-stakes game.
“Understood,” she agreed quickly to move past the topic.
“And Clark briefed you on everything, right?”
“He did.” Harley sidestepped Cornell to grab her clutch that was also on the bed. As far as she was concerned, their peace treaty talk was over.
“Your driver should be here shortly.” Cornell turned and watched her gather her things. He could see the shift in her attitude, and he tried retracing his words to figure out what he could’ve said wrong when all he wanted to do was get them on the same page with a little less animosity.
“Your car’s downstairs.” Cyn stepped into the room holding a bag of trail mix, looking between both Harley and Cornell. The atmosphere was so tense that she immediately swiveled and left to avoid a stray bullet.
Harley didn’t say a word as she went to the mirror for one last glance. She fixed a flyaway strand of hair and took a deep breath before heading to leave out.
“Miss Dupree,” Cornell stopped her.
“What?” She looked back.
“You’ll be fine.”
“I know,” Harley stated arrogantly and continued with her exit.
The rebel strikes again, Cornell thought to himself.
CHAPTER 15
Assisted by her driver, Harley stepped out of the town car, completely enthralled by the entrance of the museum. As many times as she drove by the boring white building in the daytime, she never imagined it could look like this. Each of its six columns was lit up in blue lights while purple ones covered the rest of the building. There were rotating spotlights on opposing sides of the countless steps and a red carpet that draped from the entrance all the way down to her feet.
“This is crazy,” she mumbled to herself.
“Ma’am.” A man wearing a red blazer held out his arm for her take. Harley hesitated until she looked over and noticed another similarly dressed man doing the same for another lone woman stepping out of the car behind hers.
“Thank you.” She held on with a tight grip and carefully ascended the steps. Once they reached the top, she thanked him again and walked the red mile inside.
The nervousness she convinced herself she didn’t have was now rearing its ugly little head. There were people everywhere. All shades, sizes, and ages and dressed in expensive gowns and tuxedos. Some were dancing to the live jazz band playing on the large stage to the far left while others were engaged in lively conversations accompanied by champagne and hors d'oeuvres. Harley grabbed a drink from the first waiter that passed by and took a healthy sip of more than half of the flute. Her eyes casually scanned the crowded room, looking for anyone from the picture Cornell showed her. If she could make out at least one person from the Rowe family, she figured the others wouldn’t be too far behind.
Amid her search, she decided to take a trip to the bar. Champagne may add a certain ambiance to a high-class event, but no fancy packaging or glass could stop it from tasting like bitter ass. Harley needed something clear and volatile that she could dress up for the sake of being cute.
“May I have a Cosmopolitan please?” she asked the awaiting bartender.
“Would you prefer to try one of our themed drinks for the night?” The unnaturally enthusiastic woman reached for the menu covered in silver glitter and handed it to her.
“Uh…” Harley stared at the four options. The Free Your Mind Moscato Mule looked promising. Weak but promising.
“Try the Rising Star Sparkler,” a woman with black claws for nails spoke up, standing beside her. “They use vegan vanilla vodka, and it’s to die for.” The black china doll brushed her hand over her brain-pulling, high bun. “These functions can be such a snooze fest. Drink two of
those and you’ll survive the night.”
“Good looking out, sis.” Harley chose politeness in response to the woman’s unsuccessful selling points. Nothing about Harley’s body spoke that she ate vegetables only, and who would come to an event benefiting continuing education to complain about how boring it was. This was the snobby shit she loathed.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” The woman gently patted Harley on the shoulder, a harmless gesture on her part, but a violation of space for Harley. Harley’s eyes cut her way, ready to help her find her sense and sanity until Cornell appeared in her peripheral.
“There you are,” he spoke directly to the woman, not even paying Harley so much as a glance.
“Hi, darling.” She placed her dainty hand on his chest. “Just getting a refill. Missed me?”
Harley, although shocked, tried to refrain from gagging. If this was the kind of woman Cornell was into, it made his personality that much more unappealing. China doll’s entire persona screamed self-absorbed. She was Instagram-worthy, that exotic Blasian type that men hyped over. Her face was covered in an excessive amount of makeup and long, faux lashes. Still, she looked like the trophy partner for a man in power. She and Cornell seemed…fitting.
“Aww, aren’t you two the cutest.” Harley felt the customer service smile reach her eyes. Cornell’s jaw flexed at the faux compliment, but the oblivious woman looked absolutely giddy. “Newlyweds?”
Cornell nearly choked.
“Oh, heavens no,” the woman giggled. “We’re just friends.” She looked up at him with all the adoration of the cheerleader in love with the star quarterback, and Harley thought it was honestly sad. Cornell didn’t even attempt to reciprocate the sentiment. Not even an ‘‘aww shucks’’ kind of nudge to her arm.
“We need to get to our seats.” Cornell placed a hand on the woman’s naked back and gently stroked it. Her dress left little to the imagination, which was probably a requirement to be on his arm, but she had one of those supermodel figures that could pull it off. People would’ve thought Harley was a sex worker on the prowl if she would’ve attempted the same look.