by Mason Dixon
Mackenzie had invited Kenya to her parents’ house. Simone had brought her to her parents’ home. Kenya didn’t want to leave. The get-together reminded her of her own family gatherings. More food and relatives than you could shake a stick at and a strong-willed matriarch at the helm to keep everything—and everyone—in line.
“I like her, Monie,” Charlotte said after she had asked Kenya every question under the sun. Simone certainly came by her love of Q&A honestly, Kenya noted. She had inherited it from her mother. “You should bring her around more often. But she’s as skinny as you are. Let me fix you a plate.”
“Everything looks and smells wonderful, Mrs. Bailey,” Kenya said, “but I need to be able to fit into my dress tonight without letting out the seams.”
Not to mention she wanted to save room for the pasta dinner Mackenzie had promised to make her after the charity event ended. She wanted to clean her plate, not push her food around it so she could show Mackenzie how much she appreciated her efforts. How much she appreciated her. Aside from rehearsals, they hadn’t spent much time together since last weekend. Even though they had just gotten together, it already felt like they were growing apart. With both their work schedules ramping up, things might only get worse from here.
“Nonsense,” Charlotte said. “You’ll dance better on a full stomach than an empty one. More food means more energy. I’ll be right back.”
Kenya tried to call Charlotte back, but Simone stopped her with a shake of her head. “Give it up. Once my mother sets her mind to something, no one can convince her to change course. Ask my dad. In forty-two years of marriage, he’s never won an argument. Over time, he’s learned to give in right away rather than press the issue and risk receiving the silent treatment.”
Kenya couldn’t imagine someone as vocal as Charlotte ever being silent for long. She could tell the Baileys were a close-knit family. Simone’s stories about them only reaffirmed the notion. “Was it hard for you to come out to your family, considering most Jamaicans are opposed to homosexuality?”
“It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as difficult as it could have been. I can’t say my parents weren’t disappointed by the news, but they didn’t threaten to disown me or kick me out of the house. I got the usual ‘What about grandchildren?’ speech from my mother, and my dad wanted to know what he had done wrong.”
“What did you say?”
“I reminded my mother she already had grandchildren, courtesy of Jayden and Miranda, and I told my dad my being a lesbian had nothing to do with him putting a cricket bat in my hands when I was younger instead of a doll. They were fine after that. Well, my mother’s still holding out hope on the grandkids front, but she and my dad aren’t as worried about my day-to-day well-being as they would be if we still lived on the island. There, they’d be in constant fear for my safety. Here, things are different. At the end of the day, my father doesn’t care who I’m with as long as she’s good to me and treats my family with respect.”
“And your mother?”
“She wants me to marry someone rich so I won’t have to worry about making a living.”
“She sounds like my mother.”
“How so?”
“When she heard I was dating Mackenzie, her first question wasn’t ‘How did you meet?’ or ‘How is it going?’ but ‘Did she make you sign a prenup?’”
Simone took a sip of the grapefruit soda she’d plucked from a nearby cooler. “Would you sign one if she asked?”
“I don’t want her money, and I’m sure she doesn’t need mine.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“Because we’re not there yet. We’re sleeping together, not engaged. If we move down that path, I’m sure her lawyers would draw up something and expect me to sign. I would explore my options then.”
“This is the first time you’ve mentioned Mackenzie all day. She used to be your favorite subject. I’m enjoying the respite, but is everything all right with you two?”
Something was definitely off between her and Mackenzie and had been for days, but if Kenya couldn’t explain it to herself, how could she possibly explain it to someone else? Fortunately, Charlotte’s return spared her from having to try.
“Here you are.” Charlotte brandished a sturdy paper plate piled high with fish, pork, chicken, vegetables, and a large dollop of meat stew. “Enjoy.”
“Does she really expect me to eat all this?” Kenya asked after Charlotte left to shower affection on one of her four grandchildren.
“I think she plans for us to share. Notice she brought one plate but two forks.”
Kenya took a seat in a colorfully striped beach chair. “She wouldn’t be trying to play matchmaker, would she?”
Simone sat next to her. “I told her you’re seeing someone, but I think it went in one ear and out the other.”
“Like I said, she sounds just like my mother. She has selective hearing. She hears what she wants and ignores what she doesn’t.” Kenya sampled some of the stew and tried not to inhale the rest. The flavors were incredible and the meat was so tender she didn’t need teeth to eat it.
“You like the goat curry?” Simone asked.
“Goat?” Kenya paused in mid-chew. “Is that what this is?”
Simone nodded. “Jamaican goat curry is one of my mother’s specialties.”
Kenya had detected a slight gaminess in the meat, but the unexpected flavor was undercut by the sweetness of the coconut milk in which it had been cooked. “My compliments to the chef,” she said, going back for more. “Are there any other surprises on this plate I should know about?”
“The sauce on the fish is a little sour.” Simone pinched a piece of fish, peered at it to make sure it didn’t contain any bones, and held it out to her. Kenya had the plate in one hand and a bottle of Red Stripe in the other. She didn’t want to let go of either. “It’s okay,” Simone said, bringing her fingers toward Kenya’s lips. “I don’t have cooties. Take it.”
Kenya opened her mouth and allowed Simone to feed her. The intimate act should have made her feel uncomfortable but didn’t. In fact, it felt natural. It felt like second nature. It felt…incredible. Her taste buds sang, and her heart picked up the tune.
She told herself to stop staring at Simone’s mouth as Simone licked her fingers clean, but she couldn’t look away. Had Simone’s lips always been so full? So inviting? So downright kissable? Her mouth watered for a taste.
“How was it?” Simone asked.
Kenya finally managed to tear her gaze from Simone’s mouth. “Delicious.”
“Did you like everything?” Charlotte asked after Kenya and Simone combined to clean the plate.
Kenya felt her cheeks warm. She hoped Charlotte couldn’t read her mind. Or her face. The guilt she felt for having lascivious thoughts about Simone was probably etched there. “Everything was wonderful. Thank you.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Charlotte wrapped an arm around Kenya’s and pulled her to her feet. “I know you can’t stay long. Before you go, come to the kitchen and fix yourself a plate to take with you. We have more than enough food and I don’t want any of it to go to waste. Monie, be a dear and go to the store for me. Even though we have enough food to feed a small army, your father has decided he wants oxtail stew for dinner tomorrow. And wouldn’t you know it? I’m out of oxtails. Make sure you pick out some with plenty of meat on them. I don’t want to end up with a pot full of bones.”
Kenya knew better than to argue. So, apparently, did Simone. “Yes, ma’am,” they said in unison.
Kenya allowed herself to be led into the house. In the kitchen, Charlotte handed her a Styrofoam plate and serving spoon and directed her to fill the container with the dishes of her choice.
“Are you and your lady friend serious?” Charlotte asked.
Kenya nearly dropped the serving spoon into what little was left of the goat curry. “Pardon me?”
“If you are serious about her, walk away and don’t come back. I do
n’t want you breaking my daughter’s heart.”
“Mrs. Bailey, Simone and I are just friends.”
“I don’t think Simone believes that. What’s more, I don’t think you do, either.” Charlotte folded her arms across her chest. “I saw you with her. When you didn’t think anyone was watching. You care for her, don’t you?”
Kenya set the container on the counter before her shaking hands dropped the contents on the floor. “Of course I do. She’s a wonderful person and I feel fortunate to have her in my life. But like I said, she and I are just friends.”
“Have you told her that?”
“Repeatedly.”
Charlotte’s voice was softer than her words. “Then maybe it’s time you told yourself.”
*
Simone slipped into the room and found a seat at a circular table in the back just before the lights dimmed. She pulled at the too-tight bow tie knotted around her neck. Between the tuxedo rental, the salary and tips she was missing out on by convincing Amanda to switch shifts with her, and the hundred dollars she’d had to fork over at the door, she was taking a bath tonight in more ways than one. But she had to see Kenya and Mackenzie together. She had to see for herself that their relationship was real and the moment she had shared with Kenya at Jayden’s birthday party that afternoon was just that. A moment.
Her heart raced each time she remembered the look in Kenya’s eyes when she’d taken the snapper from her. When Kenya’s tongue had flicked against her fingertips, setting every nerve ending in her body on fire. When Kenya had stared at her as if she wanted to kiss her breathless. When she’d licked the remaining escovitch sauce from her fingers so she could take a little bit of Kenya into her mouth. So she could taste her on her skin. She had been in a haze ever since, driven to distraction by doubt and desire.
Should she tell Kenya what she had seen in the alley behind Azure that night? If she did, what could she possibly hope to gain except brownie points at the expense of Kenya’s broken heart? A hollow victory at best.
She refused the waiter’s offer of a glass of champagne, even though she needed something to ease her anxiety. She turned her attention to the dance floor, where the master of ceremonies was reciting the rules.
“Ten couples will be competing tonight,” he said. His orange spray tan made him look like a well-dressed jack-o-lantern. The unearthly glow of his too-perfect veneers under the bright lights only added to the impression. “The winners will be determined based on our esteemed judges’ scores as well as yours. You should see a set of scorecards on your table. One for each of you. After each team performs, score their routine on a rank of one to ten, ten being the highest and most desirous score. Each scorecard will be counted separately, but feel free to collaborate if you like. My fellow organizers and I want this evening’s event to be as interactive and as enjoyable as possible. After all the dancers have performed, representatives from Safe Space will collect the score sheets and tally the results. Then I will have the honor of announcing the winning team. But in the end, everyone at Safe Space is a winner. Thanks to your generous donations, we have not only met our fundraising goal but exceeded it by a whopping fifty percent, insuring Safe Space’s doors will remain open to those in need for the foreseeable future.”
Simone joined in the spontaneous round of applause. She had learned to be frugal after Mackenzie threatened to fire her. Since then, she had started to save more than she spent instead of the other way around. Her nest egg wasn’t as big as she wanted it to be, but it was a start. The fact that her hard-earned money was earmarked for charity had made it easy to part with.
She watched as teams with varying levels of skill took the floor one by one. Or was it two by two? She tried to be as objective as possible with her scoring, despite the various rooting sections chanting and waving handmade signs to sway voters’ opinions in their chosen team’s favor. Each team had something to offer, but some pairs were clearly more adept than others.
Kenya and Mackenzie were the last team to take the floor. Simone leaned forward after their names were announced. Twin spotlights heralded their entrance. Mackenzie was wearing all black. From her dance shoes to her tight spandex pants to her form-fitting silk shirt. Several women—and some men—swooned when Mackenzie struck her pose, but the sight of her left Simone unmoved. When she saw Kenya all dolled up in a sparkling sequin gown that hugged every curve, however, she felt the earth shake.
The music started, jolting Simone from her reverie. For three and a half minutes, Kenya and Mackenzie moved across the dance floor, acting out a wordless tale of attraction, passion, and seduction. Their movements were flawless. Without, as far as Simone could tell, a single misstep. She, along with the rest of the audience, was mesmerized. The raucous cheering sections that had been so loud all night fell silent.
As Kenya and Mackenzie danced, Simone could see the results of the hours of rehearsals they had endured. She could see something else, too. She could see the familiarity they had with each other’s bodies. She could see the ease they felt at being in each other’s arms.
She didn’t know if Mackenzie was telling the truth when she said her fling with Fernanda was over or if her feelings for Kenya were real, but the kiss she planted on Kenya after their routine ended certainly seemed to have real emotion behind it.
Simone filled out her final scorecard but didn’t stick around to see who won. She didn’t need to. She had already seen enough.
*
Kenya’s eyes must have been playing tricks on her. Just before the house lights had come up, she could have sworn she had seen Simone sneaking out of the room. As much as she would have liked to get her take on the evening, she knew this wasn’t Simone’s kind of scene. Black tie and ballroom dancing definitely weren’t her thing. She was more a reggae and board shorts kind of girl. Kenya found both equally appealing. Perhaps too appealing. At the cookout that afternoon, Simone had felt like much more than a friend. She had felt like—
“We did it.” Mackenzie held the winners’ trophy aloft. “We actually did it. We should celebrate.”
“That’s what we planned to do, isn’t it? Over manicotti and a bottle of wine?” Kenya patted her upswept hair to hide the tremor in her hands. Thoughts of Simone had been plaguing her all afternoon. The desire to kiss her today had been so strong. How had she been able to tamp down the urge? A night with Mackenzie would give her a chance to put her day with Simone behind her. She clung to the idea with a hint of desperation. “I’ve been looking forward to your homemade pasta for days. Having dinner at home will give us a chance to spend some time together before I leave for Orlando on Monday.”
“I can cook for you any time. And we’ll have plenty of opportunities to spend time together when you return from your little retreat.”
Kenya bristled at the slight. The annual retreat was a long-standing part of her company’s corporate culture. Mackenzie made it sound like a frivolous outing instead of the important exercise it had always been. The night they met, Mackenzie had said she admired Pierce, Jackson, and Smith’s work, but her most recent comment made it seem like the company was large enough to gain her attention but too small to earn her respect. Did Mackenzie feel that way about her, too?
“I don’t want to go out tonight,” she said. “I want to go to your place, let my hair down, get out of this dress, and kick off these heels. My feet are killing me.”
Kenya tried to dig in, but Mackenzie pushed back.
“Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Kenya. I’m too wired to sit at home and twiddle my thumbs. Besides, why would I want to make dinner when I can pay someone to do it for me? I can’t make any business connections that way.”
“What about the connection you’re supposed to be making with me?”
“Our connection, as you put it, is just fine. No one else makes you feel like I do and you know it.”
That much was true, though Kenya couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad one.
Mackenzie too
k Kenya’s hands in hers. “Fernanda and some of her friends are having a late dinner at Azul, followed by a night on the town. They want to know if we’d like to join them. What do you say?”
Kenya didn’t want to go barhopping until the wee hours of the morning. She wanted to spend a quiet night at home, sitting and talking with Mackenzie like she had with Simone that afternoon. She and Simone had shared much more than a plate of food today. They had shared an experience. The kind of experience she was supposed to be sharing with Mackenzie. But Mackenzie wanted something else. She wanted glamour, excitement, and pleasure in all its forms. Would she and Mackenzie always want different things, or would they eventually find common ground?
“Dinner sounds lovely,” she said diplomatically, “but I’ve had a long day. My dancing shoes are officially retired for the evening. You can join Fernanda and her friends if you like.”
“Are you sure?” Mackenzie asked with a frown that would have seemed sincere if her eyes weren’t glittering with excitement. “I could tell Fernanda we’ll go out with her some other time.”
“I don’t want to keep you from doing something you want to do. Have fun with your friends. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’re the best. Ciao, darling. Until tomorrow.”
Mackenzie seemed all-too-eager to get away. When she kissed Kenya on the cheek, Kenya caught a whiff of perfume that wasn’t Mackenzie’s usual scent but smelled vaguely familiar.
“Is something wrong?” Bridget asked after she, Avery, Celia, and Juan came over to dish out congratulatory hugs.
“No,” Kenya said, trying to convince herself that what she was saying was true, “everything’s fine.”