21 Questions

by Mason Dixon

  Chapter Ten

  “Question 14. What is your most treasured memory?”

  Simone typed her text but didn’t hit the Send button. She hadn’t seen or heard from Kenya since the dance competition at the Safe Space charity event last Saturday night. She had been busy doing double duty polishing the tracks for Reagan’s demo and getting in her final shifts at Azure. Kenya had been in Orlando all week for something work-related and wasn’t supposed to come home until late Friday afternoon, when she’d probably be too busy playing catch-up with Mackenzie to attend her going-away party. Simone wanted to talk to her before they lost touch, but Kenya might not be checking her email. And even if she was, she might be too tied up with work to send a timely response.

  Simone sent the text and began the waiting game, the fun part of not being able to talk face-to-face. Would Kenya get back to her in a few minutes, within the hour, or never? After spending time with Kenya Saturday afternoon, she would have thought the answer would be clear. After seeing Kenya with Mackenzie Saturday night, however, everything got a whole lot murkier.

  God, how she had wanted to kiss Kenya at Jayden’s party. If she had interpreted the signs correctly, Kenya had wanted the same thing. Then, a few hours later, she had seen Kenya dancing with Mackenzie. Responding to her touch. Had she misread what she had seen? What she had felt? Nothing made sense, but she didn’t know where to go to find answers. She couldn’t go to Kenya. Kenya had already told her how she felt—told her, in essence, that she was out of her league. But if that was true, why did they keep discovering they had so many things in common?

  Simone tried working on a song but couldn’t concentrate. She gave up rather than try to force something out of nothing. Reagan deserved her best work, not the unfocused shit she was coming up with today.

  She needed to get her act together. Major labels gave their artists and producers nearly a year to complete their albums and get them on the market. Liberty City Records’ typical turnaround time was only a few months, which meant she couldn’t afford to have too many off days. And today she was definitely off her game.

  She started to go out, but she doubted falling into bed with a willing stranger would improve her mood or help her find her missing creative spark. It might even achieve the opposite effect. She didn’t need a change of scenery. She needed Kenya. Each moment she spent with her was better than the last. Now those moments might be coming to an end.

  Kenya had made her choice. She had chosen to be with Mackenzie. Simone couldn’t watch Kenya give her love to someone who didn’t deserve her. She needed to walk away. But how was she supposed to break free when all she wanted to do was hold on?

  Kenya’s response came a little after noon, when she and the other members of her team were most likely taking a lunch break. Simone read the words on the screen knowing she would have less than an hour to reply to the answer to her question and ask one or two more.

  “My most treasured memory,” Kenya had written, “is hearing Stacy Howard tell me she loved me. I was seventeen and she was the first girl I fell for who reciprocated my feelings. She made me realize I wasn’t the only one ‘like me.’ She made me realize being different didn’t mean being alone. You?”

  Simone thought for a minute. Most of her favorite memories involved her family. Her childhood hadn’t been ideal, but it had definitely been an adventure. One that had helped shape her into the person she was now. She hadn’t realized how much she and her family didn’t have until they got to America, where everything was available in plentiful supply twenty-four hours a day, three hundred sixty-five days a year. Holidays included. Yet she didn’t feel like she had missed out on anything. Quite the opposite, in fact. She felt enriched by the hardships she had endured. She could appreciate how good her present was because she knew how bad her past used to be.

  “The one memory I treasure above the rest,” she typed, “is the first Christmas my family and I spent in the States. Even though our parents finally had the means to provide my sisters and me with the fancy toys our classmates asked their parents to buy them, they took the time to make us something by hand like they did when we lived in Kingston. My sisters and I were pissed at the time.” Simone smiled as she remembered the look on Miranda’s face when the Walkman she had asked for turned out to be a Rasta hat crocheted with yarn the colors of the Jamaican flag. The hats were all the rage now but a rarity back then, making Miranda stick out when she was trying so hard to fit in. “It wasn’t until I got older that I was able to appreciate my parents’ desire to keep our old family traditions alive even though we had moved to a new country.”

  A few minutes later, Simone’s phone beeped, announcing the arrival of Kenya’s reply.

  “I gathered how important family and tradition are to you from the time we spent at your sister’s birthday party. Thank you again for inviting me. When is the next event? I could use another helping of your mother’s goat curry.”

  Simone laughed at the image of a knife-and-fork-wielding smiley Kenya added to the end of her text. She was glad to see Kenya had enjoyed herself on Saturday and wasn’t simply being polite when she’d said she had a good time. “Just say when,” she wrote in response. “Mom doesn’t need an excuse to cook. Just the ingredients and the time to put them together. Shall I pencil you in for next week?”

  “LOL. Table for two, please.”

  The comment reminded Simone of Kenya’s response to a question Mackenzie had asked her during the speed dating event. When Kenya had said the one place she wanted to visit was some fancy restaurant in Italy that only served two people at a time. Simone couldn’t afford to take her there, but perhaps she could take her someplace even more exclusive. Someplace with room for only one. She could take her into her heart.

  “Too late,” she said aloud. “She’s already there.”

  *

  Kenya checked the time as she took the last bite of her club sandwich. She had thirty minutes to wrap up lunch and get the afternoon’s breakout sessions underway. Plenty of time to try to get Mackenzie on the phone. Something she hadn’t been able to do all week. They had been playing phone tag since Monday afternoon. They kept just missing each other somehow. Either Mackenzie was in a meeting or she was. One would leave a message, the other would call back, then the cycle would repeat itself. Kenya felt like she was running on an endless loop. She was tired of exchanging voice mails. She wanted to have an actual conversation with Mackenzie. She needed to hear her voice. She needed to know why she wasn’t missing her more than she did.

  She excused herself from the table, tossed her lunch container in the recycle bin, and headed to a less-populated area so she could have some privacy.

  Her call to Mackenzie went straight to voice mail. Just like all the others. Mackenzie was supposed to be meeting with potential designers and investors for her resort project. Were the meetings going that well or that poorly? Kenya hoped the former was true. She knew how much the project meant to Mackenzie. It represented her chance to further her brand and finally escape her father’s sizeable shadow. She would be devastated if she wasn’t able to get the project off the ground.

  “Hey, babe, it’s me,” Kenya said, leaving yet another message. “I had a few minutes so I decided to give you a call. I hope everything’s going well today. Call me when you get a chance. I want to hear the big news before you draft the press release. I’ll be in sessions all afternoon and tonight’s Family Night so I don’t know when I’ll be free, but I’d love to hear from you. If I don’t, I’ll be home tomorrow night and we can catch up on everything we’ve missed. I know you can’t wait to hear all about my exciting week.” She wished she could hit Undo and take the comment back, but it was too late. She had meant it as a joke. She hoped Mackenzie would take it that way. Thanks to stress from work and Mackenzie’s desire to go out all the time—as in every night—they were doing enough sniping at each other as it was. The only common ground they were able to find most days was in the bedroom. When, that was, th
ey ended their days in the same room. Kenya wanted them to have at least one conversation on their feet instead of on their backs. “Tomorrow’s a half-day, so, depending on traffic, I should be home around four. See you then.”

  She called Simone next. She decided to reach out to her for two reasons. One, she knew she could count on Simone to be near her phone and, two, she wanted to talk to someone about something other than business for the first time in days.

  “What’s question fifteen?” she asked after Simone answered on the second ring.

  “What’s the matter?” Simone said with a laugh. “Are you in a rush to finish the list?”

  “No, I’ve been asking questions all week and I’d almost forgotten what it was like to answer them. Keeping everyone engaged in and entertained by the program is mentally and physically draining. I could use a break.”

  She could use a break from her life, too, but she didn’t see that happening any time soon.

  “Then let me help you out. Question fifteen. What is your greatest accomplishment?”

  Kenya was proud of some of the programs and policies she had implemented at Pierce, Jackson, and Smith, but she didn’t know if she wanted any of them to be included in her obituary, the ultimate listing of a person’s accomplishments in work and in life.

  “I’m proudest of the fact that everything I’ve accomplished I’ve achieved on my own. My success hasn’t been based on who I am but what I know.”

  “You’re independent. I like that in a woman.”

  “What else do you like?”

  “About you?”

  “No.” The question reminded Kenya of the uncomfortable conversation she’d had with Simone’s mother a few days prior. When Charlotte Bailey had asked her to walk away from Simone rather than risk breaking her heart. Kenya didn’t want to hurt Simone, but she didn’t want to be without her, either. The height of selfishness, she knew, but she couldn’t force herself to walk away from someone who brought such joy to her life. “What are you looking for in a partner?”

  “Why, is there someone you want me to meet?”

  It was Kenya’s turn to laugh.

  “Perish the thought. Setting up my friends is a surefire way to lose one or both of them. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “Or the poor, unfortunate soul who would have to put up with me for at least one night?”

  Kenya had a hard time believing Simone wasn’t on the market. Not when women were constantly passing along their phone numbers when they gave her their drink orders. Kenya had seen Simone flirt with the women at Azure, but she had never seen her go home with one. In fact, she hadn’t seen her with anyone since the night they’d met. Was Simone being discreet with her love life or was she waiting for someone special to come along?

  “What about Reagan?” she asked. “Celia thinks you’d make a cute couple.” She could picture them together, too, though she wasn’t entirely sure she liked the image. Though she had no claims on Simone, she still felt protective of her. Or was it possessive?

  “I like her, but not like that. If I weren’t working with her and she were a few years older, I could see us going out. But we are and she’s not.”

  “You don’t mix business with pleasure?”

  “As my father taught me long ago, you don’t shit where you eat. I would rather be Reagan’s producer than her lover.”

  Kenya had lost track of all the office affairs she had heard about in passing or the number of sexual harassment complaints she had fielded over the years. She was glad to hear Simone wasn’t likely to be involved in one of her own. Or was she glad to hear Simone wasn’t likely to be involved with anyone?

  “You still haven’t told me what you’re looking for,” she said, returning to the topic at hand.

  “I would like to meet someone who knows her own mind and isn’t afraid to say what’s on it. With a family as loud as mine, I need someone who’s able to speak up so she doesn’t get drowned out.”

  “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  “Something tells me I won’t have to look too hard.”

  “Have you met someone?”

  “You know the answer to that question as well as I do, don’t you?”

  The big announcement Kenya had prepared herself for had turned out to be an unwelcome return to a recurring theme. “Simone—”

  Simone cut her off.

  “What are we doing, Kenya? Please tell me because I really want to know. At Jayden’s party, I thought we had something special. Then I saw you with Mackenzie that night and—”

  “You were there. I thought I was seeing things.”

  “So did I. I had to see you that night. I had to know.”

  “Know what?”

  “If you felt what I did. If you felt something for me. Tell me I didn’t imagine it.”

  “Oh, Simone.” Kenya closed her eyes in a vain attempt to escape the truth. “Yes, I felt something for you that day. I would be lying if I said I didn’t. But I’m with someone else. Nothing can happen between us.”

  “And if you weren’t with her? What then?”

  Kenya suddenly wanted to be anywhere but there. Doing anything but having this conversation. “That’s a hypothetical question and I can’t answer it.”

  “Can’t or won’t? Mackenzie can give you security, but she can’t make you happy. Is that all you want? To be secure? Or do you want more?”

  “Simone—”

  “Talk to me, Kenya. You’ve never refused to answer one of my questions before. Don’t start now. Is being with her what you really want? If it is, tell me now. I need to hear you say it.”

  Celia waved to get Kenya’s attention, then pointed at her watch. It was almost time for the afternoon session to begin. Kenya nodded in acknowledgment.

  “I can’t do this with you, Simone. Not now.”

  “Not ever?”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “Will I see you tomorrow night at least?”

  Kenya had almost forgotten tomorrow was Simone’s last day at Azure. The rest of the staff was throwing a going-away party for her before the evening rush began.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I figured you’d say that. If you change your mind, the first round’s on me.”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  Kenya sought Celia out as soon as she ended the call. She felt out of sorts and there was only one thing she could do to make it right.

  “Can you cover for me tonight and tomorrow?” she asked.

  Celia looked concerned. “Of course I will. What’s going on?” She placed a comforting hand on Kenya’s back. “Do you need me to call someone?”

  “No, I’ll be fine.” Talking to Simone usually made Kenya feel lighter. Today, she felt like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. “Call me if you need me.”

  “Likewise.”

  Kenya packed her bags, checked out of the hotel, and headed home. She arrived in Miami nearly four hours later. Instead of stopping by her place to unload her car and freshen up, she drove straight to Mackenzie’s. She needed to talk to her. About so many things. She needed to take refuge in her arms. She needed to escape the doubt and confusion swirling around her. Inside her.

  When she let herself into Mackenzie’s house with the spare key Mackenzie had once told her where to find, she saw a note resting on the credenza in the foyer. “Waiting for you,” it read. “Come get me.”

  How had Mackenzie known she was coming home early? Had Celia called to make sure everything was okay and accidentally given Mackenzie the heads-up? No matter. It was water under the bridge now. She ran up the stairs, paused outside Mackenzie’s bedroom door long enough to catch her breath, then turned the knob and walked into the room.

  Mackenzie was lying face-down on the bed with her head buried between Fernanda’s legs. Fernanda raked her French-tipped nails across Mackenzie’s shoulders and threw her head back as her keening cries announced an impending orgasm.<
br />
  Kenya leaned against the doorjamb for support. She felt an unwelcome sense of déjà vu as she watched Mackenzie reach up and knead one of Fernanda’s full breasts. As she watched the woman who had professed to love her make love to another woman.

  Fernanda arched her back as she came. She said something in Italian and Mackenzie replied in kind. Laughing, Fernanda opened her eyes. She gasped when she saw Kenya standing in the doorway, but she didn’t look away or attempt to cover herself. Instead, she smiled, reached out a hand, and said with kiss-swollen lips, “You can join us if you like.”

  “No, thanks,” Kenya said, her voice hoarse from unshed tears. “You seem to be doing just fine on your own.”

  Mackenzie turned to face her. The expression on her face wasn’t one of remorse or chagrin but irritation. “You said you weren’t going to be home until tomorrow.”

  “So this is my fault?” Kenya couldn’t believe her ears. Or her eyes. “Is that really all you have to say to me?”

  Mackenzie wiped Fernanda’s juices off her mouth with the back of her hand. “Darling, please don’t be so predictable. You knew who I was when you met me.”

  “You said you’d changed,” Kenya said weakly, “and I believed you.”

  “I said I wanted to change. And you chose to believe me. I didn’t force you.” Mackenzie reached for a half-empty glass of wine on the bedside table and took a sip. “Obviously, it didn’t work out.”

  “For either of us.” Kenya waited for the pain to hit, but all she felt was numb. “This belongs to you. Give it to the next sucker who falls for your lines.” She removed the bracelet Mackenzie had given her and threw it with all her might. The bracelet bounced off the wall and landed on the marble floor with a satisfying clatter of scattered diamonds. She turned to leave, but Mackenzie’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

  “This doesn’t have to be the end. We make a beautiful couple, Kenya. All you have to do is agree to look the other way from time to time. If you like, I could do the same for you.”