by Mason Dixon
“Good.” Mackenzie finished writing the check and slid it across the desk. “Here’s a little something for your loyalty.”
Simone stared at all those zeroes. She might not ever see that much money at one time in her life. How could she possibly walk away from a piece of paper worth six figures? Because if she took it, she knew she would never be able to live with herself. Or without Kenya. She picked up the check, ripped it into shreds, and let the pieces fall on Mackenzie’s desk. “Are we done here? Because if I’m still your employee, I’ve got drinks to serve.”
After Mackenzie waved a hand to indicate she was dismissed, Simone walked out of Mackenzie’s office and sagged against the door. Money was the root of all evil, and she had nearly succumbed to its allure. She had come uncomfortably close to compromising her principles. And for what? The financial security Mackenzie’s bribe would have afforded her wasn’t worth the price she would have to pay in order to accept it.
Even though Kenya hadn’t come right out and said it, it was obvious she didn’t want to take a chance on a relationship with her because she didn’t think she was worth the risk. The more Simone thought about it, the more she realized she hadn’t done much to refute Kenya’s argument. She was going to be thirty in a couple of years and what did she have to show for it? No house, no car, minimal savings, and a fistful of dreams but no concrete plans on how to achieve them.
“I’ve got to make some changes in my life,” she said to herself as she headed back to a job that seemed glamorous from a distance but paid less than minimum wage. “And the time starts now.”
Chapter Seven
“I want you to meet my parents.”
Kenya and Mackenzie were just waking up—or trying to—after spending another long night exploring each other’s bodies. This time in Mackenzie’s palatial mansion in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in Miami. There were so many helipads in the area the residents practically needed their own air traffic control tower.
Kenya rubbed her eyes and yawned, squinting from the glare of the early morning light streaming through the blinds. Mackenzie had insisted on leaving them open last night so she could take Kenya against the window “for all the world to see.” Kenya was far from an exhibitionist, but she had been so turned on by the thrill of the forbidden she had eagerly agreed to Mackenzie’s proposition. Her body still felt the effects from last night’s sexual gymnastics.
Mackenzie was a wonderful lover. Highly skilled, attentive, and eager to please. When she was with her, Kenya had never come so hard or so often. Despite their obvious chemistry in bed, however, she felt like something was missing from their relationship. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She told herself she was being too cautious. Mackenzie could give her everything she had ever wanted in a relationship—passion, stability, and mutual financial security. So why was she trying to find fault where there was none?
“I must still be asleep,” she said, “because I could have sworn I just heard you say you want me to meet your parents.”
“I mean it.” Mackenzie moved closer. Kenya loved the contrast between the warmth of Mackenzie’s bare skin and the cool of the silk sheets. “Let’s have dinner with them tonight. I want to introduce you.”
“We’ve been dating less than two weeks. Do you always invite women to family dinner this soon?”
“You’re the only woman I’ve ever invited to my parents’ house.”
Suddenly Kenya was wide-awake. Mackenzie’s invitation now seemed less like a lark and more like the start of something permanent. The sheets rustled as she untangled their limbs so she could roll over and face Mackenzie. “Why me? Why now?”
“Because you’re not like anyone I’ve ever been with.”
Mackenzie never talked about her feelings except in vague generalities. This time, Kenya needed her to go deeper. She wanted to know what made her laugh and what made her cry, not just what made her come. And she wanted Mackenzie to know all those things about her, too. But once she had gotten her into bed, Mackenzie had stopped trying to figure out what made her tick. Didn’t she want to know her better, or did she think she already knew enough? Perhaps inviting Kenya to have dinner with her parents was her last step before taking the most important one of all. The one that led to marriage and commitment. Two things Kenya had always wanted but had begun to fear she would never have.
“In what way am I different?” she pressed.
“Because you’re a woman.”
Kenya barely resisted rolling her eyes. “I think the rest of the women you’ve been with were women, too.”
“But they weren’t like you.” Mackenzie raked a hand through her tousled hair, but her short curls resisted taming. “They were flighty and immature. I could take them to a White Party, but not a black-tie event. And a business function? Forget it. I could have fun with them, but I couldn’t make a life with them. They were someone I could date. You are someone I could marry. And that’s what I love about you.” Mackenzie slowly ran the tip of one finger across Kenya’s collarbone, causing goose bumps to form in its wake. Or perhaps her body was reacting to Mackenzie’s words instead of her touch. “I also love this spot right here.” She gently maneuvered Kenya onto her back and kissed the valley between her breasts. “And this spot right here.” She moved lower and kissed Kenya’s navel. “And,” she said, spreading Kenya’s legs, “I especially love this spot right here.”
Kenya sighed as Mackenzie ran her tongue along the length of her clit. Then her sighs quickly turned into moans as the tantalizing movements of Mackenzie’s tongue stripped away her ability to think clearly.
“So is that a yes?” Mackenzie asked afterward as Kenya lay boneless in her arms.
Kenya tried to catch her breath. “With an inspired pitch like that, how could I say no?”
*
“She wants me to meet her parents.”
Simone had barely finished reading the mysterious text message before her phone rang. Kenya’s number was printed on the display.
“Please ignore the message I just sent,” Kenya said. “It was meant for Bridget. I sent it to you by mistake.”
“I gathered that.” Simone leaned back on her couch and propped a foot on the edge of her refuse-covered coffee table. She had stayed up late working on her music and had the empty burger and candy wrappers to show for it. Not to mention the bags under her eyes. One day, though, all her hard work and long nights would be worth it. Provided, of course, she didn’t keel over from exhaustion first from burning the candle at both ends. She munched on a cold French fry until she could get her hands on some real food. “I assume the ‘she’ in your email is Mackenzie. If she’s inviting you to meet her parents, you must be getting serious.”
“To be honest,” Kenya said with a sigh, “I don’t know what we are. Everything is a blur right now.”
Simone felt the same way. She had been in a daze ever since Mackenzie had tried to buy her silence. Even if she hadn’t gotten paid for it, perhaps keeping quiet was the right thing to do. Kenya was happy and Mackenzie was apparently doing right by her. For once.
“Are you nervous?” Simone asked.
“I’m petrified. She’s never invited anyone she was dating to meet her parents. I’m the first. I’m not sure I’m ready to be a trailblazer.”
“Just be yourself and you’ll be fine. Her folks put their pants on one leg at a time just like everyone else. Unless they pay someone to do it for them.”
“Are you trying to make me more nervous or less? Because you’re not helping.”
“Sorry,” Simone said, trying not to laugh.
She couldn’t blame Kenya for being so spun out over the idea of having dinner with Mackenzie’s parents. The Richardsons were people you wanted to impress, especially if they might become your in-laws one day. The concept of Mackenzie being in a serious relationship that might lead to marriage was so foreign Simone still couldn’t wrap her head around it. Mackenzie played the field. She didn’t leave i
t behind. But she had apparently decided to do so for Kenya. And who could blame her? Kenya was worthy of that kind of commitment. Simone just hoped Mackenzie was worthy of her.
“What are you doing?”
Kenya’s question pulled Simone out of her reverie.
“Working on a project that’s had me stumped. This morning, I think I finally managed to pull it together.”
“What is it?”
“A track for a new artist I hope to produce. Would you like to hear it?” she asked hesitantly. She wanted Kenya’s opinion, but she was leery of possibly receiving negative feedback on something that meant so much to her.
“I’d love to.”
“Here. Let me put you on speaker.” Simone pressed the appropriate icon on her phone and held the microphone near her laptop. Then she began playing the new version of one of Reagan’s songs. She hadn’t altered the vocals in any way, but she had gotten rid of the original music and replaced it with her own. “It’s still raw, but—”
“Shh,” Kenya said sharply. “Let me listen.”
Simone bit her lip as she waited for the song to finish. As she waited to hear what Kenya had to say about what she had heard.
“You wrote that?” Kenya asked after the last note sounded.
“Not the lyrics, no. I wrote the music. Did you like it?”
“I love it.”
Kenya’s enthusiastic response made Simone’s chest swell with pride. It was one thing for her friends to say her music was dope. Friends were supposed to be loyal that way. Hearing it come from Kenya, someone who sought out talent for a living, meant a whole lot more. It meant she was good. It meant music didn’t have to be a dream. It could be a career.
“It reminds me of yesterday,” Kenya said. “Of being at the Wynwood Walls in the middle of a riot of color, then inundated by a cornucopia of sights, sounds, and smells at the Caribbean Festival.”
“That was my inspiration. I tried to replicate everything we saw and did because I wanted the track to sound like a mix of all those influences.”
“You’ve succeeded.”
“I hope the guy I’m doing this for feels the same way.” She couldn’t allow herself to get too excited until she heard what Dre thought of the track. Since he was the one paying the bills, that gave him final say. “If he approves and the artist likes my direction, I may be asked to produce the rest of the album. It’s only a five-song EP, but it’s a start.”
“If the rest of the songs sound as good as the one I just heard, it could be the start of something big. And one day, I’ll be able to say I knew you when.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears.” Kenya’s praise felt good, though a bit bittersweet. The more Kenya got wrapped up in Mackenzie’s world, the less likely she would remain part of hers. Yesterday was one of the best days of her life. She hated the idea that it might never be repeated. “Do you have time for question ten, or do you have to go get gussied up for your big date?”
“I have time.”
“Question ten: what’s your ultimate fantasy? The one thing you’ve always dreamed of doing but never have.”
“In bed or out?”
As much as Simone wanted to hear all the things Kenya wanted to do to someone sexually or have done to her, she didn’t want to imagine her doing them with Mackenzie. “Out.”
“I once read an article about a woman who retired, sold her house, and now lives on a cruise ship. At last count, she had visited over a hundred countries. I would love to spend the rest of my life on permanent vacation.”
“You still could.”
“On my salary? I don’t think so. If I want to pay six figures a year to live a life of luxury, I need to start buying lottery tickets.”
Kenya either didn’t seem to realize or didn’t want to admit she had already hit the jackpot. She didn’t need to work when her girlfriend made more money in an hour than most people did in a year. Simone liked the fact that Kenya wanted to earn her rewards rather than having them given to her. Working for something always made it taste sweeter in the end.
“Have fun at dinner tonight.”
Kenya growled in frustration. “Ugh. Dinner. Don’t remind me. Quick. Ask me a question to take my mind off of it.”
Simone smiled at Kenya’s reluctance to end their conversation. To break their connection. “Instead of asking a question, I’d rather make a request. Tell me about your ex.”
“Ellis? Why?”
Simone had seen the damage the end of her relationship with Ellis had caused Kenya, but she was curious about the relationship itself. Did they have more good times than bad, or had it been rocky from the beginning? “What drew you to her?”
“The same thing that drove us apart,” Kenya said with a hint of sadness in her voice. “She was impulsive, free-spirited, and spontaneous. Everything I wasn’t. She often acted on a whim and I like to think things through first. When I was with her, I loved not knowing what to expect. Until I walked in on something I should have seen coming.”
“Aside from the obvious, how did that make you feel?” Simone felt like she was channeling Dr. Phil, but she wanted to know more about Kenya’s past in case she was lucky enough to be part of her future.
“I was disappointed, I was angry, and, in a way, I was relieved it was over.”
“Why?”
“Until then, I thought I could fix us, but we were over long before I walked into that room. I just didn’t want to admit it. I tried so hard to hold on when I should have let go.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was afraid. Afraid of hearing ‘I told you so’ from everyone who kept saying Ellis wasn’t right for me. Afraid of feeling like a failure for trying to prove them wrong.”
Simone couldn’t imagine how someone as confident and successful as Kenya seemed to be could harbor such deep-seated doubts. “Do you still feel that way?”
Kenya’s silence hinted the answer might be yes. Her attempt to use humor to sidestep the issue confirmed the fact. “At the moment, the only thing I’m afraid of is using the wrong fork at dinner.”
“Outside in,” Simone said. “I think that’s the rule.”
And in her case, it also referred to her role in Kenya’s life. On the outside looking in.
*
Simone’s questions usually left Kenya feeling vaguely unsettled as they forced her to confront thoughts and feelings she hadn’t examined before. Today, however, Simone’s line of questioning had left her shaken. Had fear of being alone compelled her to accept the advances of the first person who had shown more than a passing interest in her since she left Ellis? Was she settling for Miss Right Now instead of waiting for Miss Right? She couldn’t be. Because if that was the case, she would be dating Simone instead of Mackenzie. She would be settling for something temporary instead of planning a future.
She needed to gather her brain trust. She needed to sit down with Bridget and Celia and talk through the situation. But what was there to talk about? With Simone, she could have a few laughs and a few interesting conversations. With Mackenzie, she could have a life. But if everything was so black-and-white, why did she keep seeing gray?
She called Bridget first, then got Celia on the line.
“Bridget, you and I haven’t had a chance to talk since girls’ night, and, Celia, you and I haven’t talked about anything except work during that time. What did you guys think of Mackenzie? Be honest.”
“She’s beautiful, charming, and rich,” Celia said. “What’s not to like?”
“Her wandering eye, for one,” Bridget said. “She’s got a lot going for her, but she’s a player, Kenya. I thought that would be a major red flag for you.”
“It was at first, but she says she’s changed and I believe her.”
“What makes you so sure?” Bridget asked.
“The sound of her voice when she whispers my name. The feel of her touch when she—”
“La, la, la,” Celia said. “Stop right there. I don’t want to imagine
any of my friends having sex, let alone my boss. When you’re with her, you feel like you’re the only one. Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“Precisely. Work gets in the way sometimes—for both of us—but I believe her when she says she isn’t seeing anyone else. That she doesn’t want to see anyone else. A few hours ago, she asked me to meet her parents.”
“She did what?” Bridget asked. “Way to bury the lead, Kenya. This is a big deal. Especially for someone with her reputation. If you plan to love ’em and leave ’em, you don’t take them home to meet Mommy and Daddy first.”
“When was the last time someone you were seeing asked you to meet her family?” Celia asked. “Juan asked me after our second date.”
“Try never for me,” Kenya said. “Ellis wasn’t close with her family. The only times we saw them were at weddings and funerals. Even then, she introduced me as her roommate instead of her lover because, after she came out, her mother asked her not to tell the rest of the family she was gay.”
“And that was okay with you?”
“Of course not, but I loved her. You know how it is. When the person you love asks you to do something, you occasionally say yes to keep the peace even though doing so tears you up inside.” Kenya paused to remember how much she had hated being relegated to the sidelines. Being asked not to mention her relationship with Ellis made her question its legitimacy. When they met, Ellis was working as a clerk in a convenience store. Had she pursued a relationship with Kenya because she was interested in her or the things her money—and good credit score—could buy? “Now, instead of being shoved in a corner, I’m being put in the spotlight. I’m thirty-six years old and I feel like I’m embarking on my first real relationship. What if I blow it?”
“You won’t,” Celia said reassuringly. “As long as you don’t spend the evening with a piece of food stuck in your teeth or a giant booger hanging out of your—”