And then he ventured off into Wolof, which Deuce now knew enough to recognize when he heard it, even if he didn’t understand a word that was being said.
“You think America is rife with tribalism?” Zora’s father said in his heavily-accented English. “Go to any African nation. Sometimes more than a dozen ethnicities, crammed into a geographical region, defined by Europeans long ago as a ‘nation-state’, but with each ethnicity fighting for supremacy. How, given that, are we to govern ourselves, or manage and distribute our wealth equitably?”
Deuce hesitated, unsure whether the question was addressed to him. But all eyes in the room were trained in his direction. So, he put down his fork again.
“Wealth doesn’t need to be distributed equitably,” Deuce said. “Only opportunity does.”
“Yes … yes,” one of the other men said, nodding in approval. “Exactly.”
For a few beats, Mr. Diallo looked at him, then he nodded, returning to his native language.
When Deuce picked up his fork again, he felt pinpricks of perspiration in his armpits. He only knew he had passed the test because when the conversation continued, everyone tried to speak English, and often looked his way, to include him.
“Politics,” Zora’s brother said under his breath. “The only sporting event in Africa that’s more important than the World Cup.”
Just as Deuce stood to take his plate back to the kitchen, Zora’s mother materialized and took it from him, smiling and squeezing his shoulder.
“I’ve got it. You stay and enjoy the conversation.” She squeezed his shoulder before turning to clear some of the other empty plates.
Looking up, Deuce noticed Zora watching him from the doorway into the dining room, the ghost of a smile on her face. Before he had time to smile back, there was a minor ruckus at the front door. Asif had finally arrived.
While the room re-oriented itself temporarily in his direction, making way for him to greet each person in turn, Zora’s father reached over and tapped Deuce on his shoulder. He nodded in the direction of the front room, and Deuce swallowed hard, maneuvering his way past Ousmane to follow him.
As he did, Asif greeted him with a hug and some dap as Zora’s father noted the exchange. Deuce hoped he would carry that currency with him into this conversation, whatever it turned out to be.
The room, just off the foyer had been converted into a small library and study with a desk and sitting area. There was no computer in sight. Just books upon books, in floor to ceiling bookcases.
“I think my daughter may have read them all,” Mr. Diallo said.
Deuce turned. “I believe it,” he said.
At that, Zora’s father smiled a little. “She’s extraordinary.”
“She is,” Deuce agreed as the older man motioned for him to sit.
“She only sees what could be. What is? That she has more difficulty with.”
It was just the kind of cryptic comment that it was almost always better not to respond to.
“So, her faith, Islam, she sees only in terms of what she wishes it would be. But …” Karim Diallo opened his hands, palm upward as if in prayer.
“It’s an important part of her life,” Deuce acknowledged.
“You think so?” her father asked. “And yet she runs from it. Or allows herself to be … carried away from it.”
“I would never want to take Zora away from her faith. Or take her faith from her.”
“That may be so, but I’m not so foolish, nor so old-fashioned or blind to believe that something—perhaps even something of which I would disapprove—isn’t happening between you and my daughter.”
Deuce resisted the urge to deny it.
It was true, after all. Her father would not approve. Deuce slept with his daughter, bathed with her, he had held and kissed her in her most intimate places; and watched her walk naked across a room after they made love.
Not only would a man like Karim Diallo disapprove. But he would skip the shotgun wedding and skin Deuce alive if he had any idea the full extent of what he and Zora had done.
“But I see something in her eyes when she is with you. And in yours when you are with her. What will come of it, I don’t know. But if you come here with her, come inside. Sit with me. Sit with her mother. Her brother if he is here. Have a meal as you did today.”
Deuce nodded. “I would like that. I didn’t mean to …”
Mr. Diallo stood. Their conversation was at an end. He paused a moment at the door as he was leaving.
“Inshallah, Zora will remain true to her faith. But you’re welcome in my home. And at Jumu’ah if you’re of a mind to attend again.”
“Th … thank … you, sir.”
It was a moment—or more than a few moments—of sitting and smiling to himself before Deuce could make himself rejoin the party.
~~~
“The next time you’re at your apartment, I want to come over. To be with you.”
Deuce froze and turned to look at Zora who had walked him to his car. Leaning back against it, he studied her, standing there in her long terry skirt and Chucks, her tank, covered by a lightweight cardigan—her uniform, for when she was visiting her parents.
“I’m in Bedford most ni …”
“But not all,” she said, a challenging note in her voice.
“No,” he acknowledged. “Not all. Not when I work late.”
“So, one of those nights then,” she said, coming closer. “Call me. No matter what time it is. And I’ll come to you.”
Deuce felt his dick twitch as she got even closer, and he smelled the tropical scent in her hair, and on her skin. Shaking his head, he gave her a wry smile.
“You’re not playing fair right now,” he said.
“Really? Why do you say that?”
“Because you know I’m …” He licked his lower lip thoughtfully, choosing his words.
“Trying to put some distance between us,” she said. “Yes. I know. But we already did that, remember? And neither of us liked it.”
He shook his head. “Zee. I can’t keep …”
“What?” She advanced closer, so close her hair tickled the tip of his nose, and her face was just at his neck, her mouth almost touching it. He felt the tips of her breasts, just barely touching his chest. “You can’t keep … what?”
Deuce glanced back at her house, suddenly nervous that they might be seen. That especially her father would see them, and the precious ground he’d gained this afternoon would be lost.
Putting his hands on her arms, he gently moved her back a single step, so there was at least a little room between them.
“Playing games,” he said. “Going back and forth with this you-want-me-you-don’t-want-me, you’re-sure-you’re-not-sure stuff. I’m done with that. So until you know …”
“I know,” she said, holding the front of his shirt, and tugging it, coming close once again.
“What do you know?” Deuce asked.
But inside, he had already conceded defeat. He was such a sucker for this girl. She had him, and she knew it.
“I know I want you,” she said, tilting her head backward because she knew what he would do. “And I know I’m sure.”
After one last glance at the house, Deuce bowed his head, and kissed her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“Ain’ no point waitin’, man. We just gon’ go ahead and do it now.”
“Now? Like when?”
“In a couple weeks. Nothing big. Courthouse, and a restaurant after. Her moms, my people; and if you can make it, you and Zora D.”
“Just like that? You just going to the courthouse …”
“Yeah, man. I’m starting to feel some type of way, like … uncomfortable. Ash is startin’ to show more and I don’t like how that shit feels. Seeing people look at us, look at her, notice that ring finger all … naked and shit.
“I’m not lettin’ my kid come into the world like that. Black boys are already delegitimized by society, I’m not gon’ make it
even worse by not claimin’ him and his mother from jump.”
There was a lot of Kaleem in that speech, but Deuce also knew a good portion of it was the influence of Ibrahim Carter. Still, it all sounded right to him, so he was down for a wedding whenever Kal and Asha wanted it to happen.
Leaning back into the pillows, he lifted his eyes as Zora entered the bedroom carrying two mugs of coffee. They were at his apartment in the city this weekend since his aunt agreed to take over looking after his mother until Sunday.
It was the first time in ages that he and Zora would have a place to themselves. Last night, Friday, they’d made good use of the solitude after their time apart, and the way he was feeling, Deuce wasn’t sure they would be leaving this bed the entire day. It was already after eleven, and they hadn’t gone much further than the bathroom all morning.
He took his mug from Zora and sipped the coffee tentatively, winking at her when he realized she made it the way he preferred— very milky and very sweet.
“So, you tellin’ me you gettin’ married in two weeks?”
Zora leaned into his line of sight and opened her eyes, and mouth wide in a silent scream.
“Yup, can you make it out? It’d mean a lot to Ash. A lot to me.”
“Am I your best man?”
“Well …” Kal let the word drag. “About that …”
“You kiddin’ me, right? I’m not your fuckin’ best man?!”
“D, my pops gotta be my best man. But I worked it out, and you’re the godfather. Which is much better.”
“Says who? I was lookin’ forward to standin’ up there while Asha makes an honest man outta you.”
Kal hissed his teeth. “I’m already an honest man. Anyway, as far as the godfather deal, Ash wanted it to be Javier, her best friend. I mean, dude dresses up like J.Lo and Beyoncé for a living. Like I was ever gon’ let that happen.”
Deuce laughed. “From what I remember of him, he seemed like cool people.”
“Yeah. He is. Loves Ash to death. But … nah. We ain’t goin’ that route. Especially since we havin’ a boy.”
“Oh, that’s how you pulled that off? Fed her lies about ‘the transsexuality’ being contagious?”
“Shut up. All I told her was that if I choose the godfather when we have a boy, she chooses the godmother when we have a girl.”
“And it’ll probably be Zee, so …”
“Exactly,” Kal drawled. “I’m in control of my domain, bruh. Believe that.”
“The only thing I see being controlled is you,” Deuce said, just to mess with him. “Asha got you so tied up … Gettin’ married, so people don’t look at her funny on the street. Like, who the hell are you, for real?”
“I love that girl, man. That’s my whole heart. And all I can give her right now is my name. So, she’s gon’ have that. Before we bring our son into the world.”
Next to him, Zora was pulling her hair back and up into a ponytail. She had gotten it twisted, so from a distance, it looked like she had shoulder-length locs. Having dealt with her hair, she leaned over to get her coffee mug, and her ass was for a moment a little in the air, exposed with white cotton panties contrasting against dark skin.
“A’ight. You about to give me diabetes from all this sweetness. Count on me and Zee bein’ there. Just send me the deets as soon as you know.”
He hung up and reached for Zora, just as she was about to settle back onto her butt. Tugging the waistband of those white panties, he slid a hand beneath the fabric and against skin.
“Put that mug down,” he told her, just as he put his aside.
Zora obeyed and didn’t resist when he rose to his knees behind her and peeled her underwear down.
“Did I hear right, that Kal and Ash are …”
“Uh huh.” Deuce released his already full erection—it didn’t take much when she was walking around half-naked—and dragged her further back toward him.
“… getting married?” she asked, looking at him over her shoulder.
“Yup.”
She leaned forward, torso on the bed, arms folded and head resting on them, so her ass was elevated even higher.
Seeing her like that almost made him drool. Deuce bent to plant a kiss on one dark mahogany-toned butt cheek, and then the other. Zora squirmed at that and exhaled, one long, smooth, moan.
“And we’re going?” she added.
“Yup.” Reaching forward, Deuce parted her legs a little, and stroked her. Her back arched and she gasped, soft, quiet rasps of air.
He smelled her—brine, and coconut oil, and the remnants of last night’s sex—and then he pushed against her, watching her body envelop and accommodate him.
“Damn, Zee.”
He shoved deeper, watching himself disappear inside her, until his pelvis was flush against her ass.
“Don’t move,” she said when it seemed like he might. “That feels … too good. Don’t … do anything. Don’t move.”
So, he molded his body to hers, his chest against her back, his arms holding his weight while he kissed the nape of her neck. She was warm heat, and when she craned her neck, hot, sweet breath.
Deuce sucked her tongue, tasting mint, and coffee and … Zora. Inside her, his dick jumped, raring for action.
“Don’t move,” she said again, sensing the disintegration of his restraint. “I bet we’ll come just like this.”
“Nah,” he said, grinning against her lips. “I can’t. That’s a physical impossibility.”
But damned if he didn’t feel his dick getting even harder, and her getting hotter, and softer, just at the idea of it.
“I’ll make you,” Zora said, speaking against his mouth. Then she craned her neck farther, and he leaned in closer so she could suck his lower lip and then his tongue.
“Fuck, Zee …”
He could feel her, gripping him, like she was moving, without moving. And that was what she was doing, arching and bowing her back so that he naturally slid deeper, and then further out of her, all without any affirmative movement on his part.
“Fuck …” he said again, feeling a literal chill surge through his entire body. “What’re you doin’ to me?”
“I told you … I wanna make us come. Like this. Not moving.”
“Well c’mon wit’ it, then,” he said.
With her arch-and-bow motion, it was like she was riding him, but from beneath him, slowly, languorously.
“Are you twerking?” he teased her, speaking through gritted teeth, pretending to have the control he was rapidly losing.
“Are you complaining?” she sang.
“Hell nah.”
He held his weight on only one braced arm now, and the other he slipped beneath her, reaching down until he touched her core.
Zora gasped, and moved faster, more frantically until there was no point any longer in continuing their little experiment. Pulling back, Deuce grabbed her hips with both hands, slamming into her, while she rocked against him.
This might be the one, he thought before it hit. This might be the one that makes me pass the hell out.
And it did. For a fraction of a second, he had no consciousness, and when he came back, was collapsed atop Zora, breathing like a racehorse but still hard, still inside her, and still ready to go.
Zora laughed softly and reached back to touch his jaw.
“Wow,” she said.
“Yeah … I know,” he said between gulping breaths. “We should break up more often.”
Reluctantly pulling back and out of her, Deuce turned her over onto her back. Zora opened her arms and pulled him down to her again, though he was damp with perspiration.
“Did we break up?” she asked. “Is that what was happening?”
“I don’t know what the hell was happening,” he admitted.
Deuce rested his weight on her, head on the pillow next to hers, feeling her legs come up and hook around his.
“Let’s not ever do it again,” Zora said.
“Never,” he promise
d.
~~~
Evenings in New York were still muggy, the air dense and oppressive. But Zora and Deuce went out later anyway, walking a few blocks over to Vietnam, the restaurant with the testy waitstaff and excellent food. Zora was groggy from the heat and the all the morning hours spent in bed, making love in as many ways as they could think of and execute.
She was sore, and tired, and happy. And if she had to judge just by looking across the table at Deuce with his heavy-lidded eyes and half-smile, he felt the same way.
Sliding a hand across the table, she meshed her fingers with his, and his half-smile became a full one.
“I need a nap,” he said.
“We just had one.”
“You call that a nap?” he grinned.
They had showered, and gone back to bed, Zora insisting they sleep naked, because she read somewhere that people slept easier and deeper if they did. But lying on her side, leg draped across him meant she was basically humping his leg. After only about an hour, Deuce’s resolve broke.
That feels like an invitation, he said. Then he’d flipped her over onto her back and gone down on her.
We gotta get out of here, Zora said afterward, still panting. Or that’s just going to keep happening.
At that, they couldn’t stop laughing for a really long time.
It was only because they were hungry and too low on mental energy to think about what to cook that they wound up at Vietnam.
“It’s because we don’t live together,” Deuce said. “I bet I’d be able to leave you alone more if we lived together. You know, not jump you all the time.”
“But we could never do that, so …”
“It’s not like anyone would ever know.”
“So, you’re suggesting I secretly move in with you?”
Deuce shrugged.
“And what? Make Seef our unwilling co-conspirator?”
“True. He wouldn’t want to do that. So, the only solution is for you to marry me.”
Zora sighed, and shook her head. “Do you know any other songs?”
“Yeah, but that’s my favorite tune right now,” Deuce said. “Anyway c’mon, let’s get our grub on and go back home.”
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