“Brooke Howard?” London spurted, coughing up her champagne. Brooke Howard was an extremely popular New York talk show host, pegged to be the next Oprah Winfrey. She also happened to be married to a (black) New York State Senator. London could imagine the sort of minor blip in the tabloids this juicy tidbit might provide.
All the same she was impressed. She looked at Michael over the edge of her champagne glass, viewing him in a new light. Just because she’d never had an opportunity to date a white man didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t her type, did it? Michael was handsome by any objective standard. The tuxedo was well-tailored and revealed that he certainly kept in shape.
He obviously caught her looking at him and gave her a flirtatious grin. “Did I just become your type?” he inquired.
She rolled her eyes but smiled without answering.
He pressed on, leaning in closer. “Would you like to try me out to see if I’m your type?”
His proximity to her caused her heart to flutter. She still had no idea if Michael wanted something strictly fun or something more. It made her wonder what she wanted. Obviously she couldn’t be serious with him, not a Wright of all people. Daddy was right about that. It would not look good, especially for the firm and its representation of Dion Davis.
Maybe she could just be like Brooke Howard and “connect” a few times with him. What better rebound than the crème de la crème (pun very much intended) of New York? She smiled as she thought of how Clayton would react if he found out.
“Is that a yes?” he said, leaning in closer as he saw her smile.
She laughed and leaned away from him…just a bit.
He came in a few inches closer.
She fell back one inch.
He narrowed the gap.
She didn’t budge.
He made the connection, placing his lips on hers.
She fell into it, tasting the champagne on his breath, mixed with hers. She had leaned so far back that when her body inevitably became weak, he brought the arm holding champagne around to her back to support her. The other hand came up to caress her neck, the thumb grazing her soft cheek.
His lips were supple but demanding, gently pushing hers apart. She accommodated them with a smile on hers. His tongue teased at hers, exploring one moment and retreating back the next. She chuckled into his mouth. He did the same, then moved to suck her bottom lip, gliding his tongue over the lip gloss.
“You bitch!”
The two of them reflexively jumped apart in surprise. London turned and was stunned to see her sister, looking quite spectacular in a body-hugging dress. She was standing next to a young, handsome man in a tuxedo who had a crooked grin directed toward Michael.
What in the world was Brooklyn doing here?
The thought was dismissed a she saw the look of venomous contempt her sister was giving her. London actually flinched at the anger she saw.
“You can’t keep your man so you go after the one you think I want?” she spat. “Yeah, I heard all about Clayton.”
London flinched again.
“Brooklyn—”
Before she could finish, Brooklyn had spun around and stormed out. The man with her gave one curious look toward London, before quickly following her out.
“What was that about?” Michael asked in surprise.
“She…she has a crush on you,” London sighed, still staring at the entrance where her sister had exited.
How the hell was she going to fix this?
She turned to Michael. “Look, this just got too complicated.” She placed on hand on his chest, ignoring the firmness of his pecs. “Let’s just leave it at you not being my type, okay?”
With that she hurried off in hopes of finding her sister and doing what she was best at, damage control.
Chapter Eighteen
As soon as they had entered the tent, Alex had caught his brother wandering off. His arm had been intertwined with a woman whose dress had a back almost as enjoyable to look at as Brooklyn’s. It didn’t bode well for her plans to get Michael to notice her.
In retrospect, he wondered if leading Brooklyn to them had been on purpose, in hopes that everything would unfold exactly as it had. It had actually been perfect timing. He had taken her by the hand across the crowded floor of social elites and down the path to the orchid display.
They had walked in to find Michael’s arms wrapped firmly around the woman, who had enough similarities to Brooklyn for Alex to put two and two together. They were too busy locking lips to notice the intruders. Brooklyn had taken care of that with her little outburst.
Now Alex was running to catch up with her. It wasn’t too difficult. She had only a small head start and he had the benefit of not being in heels. He caught her at the entrance back into the tent.
“Hey,” he said, taking her arm. “Are you alright?”
She just stared at the ground with a frown. He used the moment to grab two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. The one good thing about these events was that the alcohol was always plentiful. All the better to loosen those wallets. He handed one to her and sipped his in silence, waiting for her to speak.
“I just don’t understand it,” she muttered. “My own sister. Out of all the men in the world, she chooses him?” she looked up at him in bewilderment. “She doesn’t even date white men.”
Alex let that one sit. He took another sip of champagne.
“What does he even see in her that he didn’t in me?” she said, frowning at the ground.
He couldn’t let that one sit. “So you’re still interested in him?”
She looked up at him in surprise. She blinked twice before answering. “Well…I,” she gave an exasperated sigh, “I don’t know.”
“Alright so what do you want?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked with irritation.
“It’s just that you spend an entire weekend with me and now you have the gall to get upset when you see Michael kissing someone else.”
It probably wasn’t the smartest route to go but he had to put it out there. He could see the anger flashing in her brown eyes. “But we were just fun, right?” she spat back at him. “Besides, you’re the one that suggested this little plan.”
“Only because it’s what you wanted. Which brings me back around to the same question. What do you really want?”
She paused, trying to read his face. “What do you want?” she asked.
“What do you want?” he replied.
“What do you want?” she repeated.
“It depends on what you want.”
“What is this, The Notebook?” she cried with exasperation.
“I don’t even know what that means,” he replied with frustration.
“Just stop spinning me around in circles, Alex,” she sighed. She looked directly into his eyes. “What do you want? Just tell me.”
He stared back at her for a moment, debating whether or not to confess his feelings, feelings he wasn’t even sure of until he saw her reaction back in the orchid room. His heart stopped as he took a breath and decided to tell her the truth.
“I want you,” he confessed. “What do you want?”
“You,” she breathed.
He let it sink in, waiting for his heart to start beating again. Then he placed one hand around the curve of her neck where it met her chin. The other, he brought around to the small of her back, savoring the silky feel of her bare skin. He pulled her in for a kiss and she offered no resistance.
They stayed like that, tasting each other, completely oblivious to the stares around them that ranged from the indulgently amused to visibly perturbed.
When Brooklyn finally pulled away, Alex kept her locked in close to him. She looked up at him and gave a laughing smile.
“What?” he asked with a questioning grin.
Instead of answering she simply reached up and used her thumb to wipe away the lipstick she’d left on his lips.
“Not exactly your shade,” she poin
ted out.
He laughed.
“What do you say we get out of here?” He asked.
“Sounds like a plan,” she responded. Then she took his outstretched hand and followed him out.
Chapter Nineteen
The next day, London was waiting outside Brooklyn’s apartment building. Her younger sister hadn’t bothered to come to church that morning, which had been just fine with their father. Dion Davis had used the pulpit to officially declare his intent to run for the office of Mayor of New York as a Democratic candidate and Brooklyn was far too much of a wild card to put him at ease. Thankfully, Clayton had not accompanied his boss to church. In fact, the only hiccup had been grandma’s decision to show up in the same wig with purple highlights that Brooklyn had given her the week before. Father had not been amused.
London had tried calling all night and this morning with no answer. Now she was camped out in front of Brooklyn’s building waiting for at least one of her friends to pop out. There were about 5 of them crammed into the top floor. At least one of them had to run an errand or something at some point.
She was on her third coffee from the shop on the corner, and wondering where the nearest restroom might be, when the five of them crowded out the front door, laughing and talking. They all stopped and became silent when they saw her.
London swallowed the large gulp of coffee in her mouth before speaking up. “Brooklyn, will you at least let me take you to dinner so we can talk this out?”
Her sister just glared at her, a look which was matched by every eye next to her.
“What are you going to do, ignore me forever?” London pleaded.
“We were already on our way to dinner,” she said.
“Well I was hoping to talk to you one on one, sister to sister?” she offered.
“Anything you have to say, you can say in front of them,” Brooklyn responded. “They know everything,” she continued, her voice like steel.
London had no illusions about that, based on the way Brooklyn’s friends were staring her down. “Okay fine then, my treat.” She said brightly. “Where were you headed?”
“Chinese,” said the one London recognized as Annie.
“Dim sum,” Brooklyn said on the tail end of that.
London pressed her lips together. She had a feeling she was about to get taken to the cleaners, but she sucked it up. Six people for dim sum it was.
Half an hour later they had their own table, which was barely visible underneath the platters of dumplings, buns, rolls, fish balls, and spare ribs. Someone had even ordered roasted duck. The two bottles of wine had been the final straw.
Brooklyn had made a point of sitting as far as possible away from her, leaving a buffer of two girls between them on either side. Now, London was pretty close to not giving a damn about the awkwardness of shouting over the table.
“Brooklyn, what happened between Michael and me was nothing,” she said loudly.
There. London had thrown the ball in Brooklyn’s court. All she had to do was toss it back.
The chopsticks on the table stopped mid-route to platters and mouths. Heads and eyes bobbed back and forth between the two sisters, waiting to see what would happen next.
“It didn’t look like nothing,” she responded.
“He was the one who kissed me,” she insisted. Even as the words left her lips it sounded like a complete cop out; something a 12-year-old would say to get themself off the hook.
It was also entirely the wrong thing to say. The hurt frown her sister gave her, mirrored by the flinty stares of her friends, was enough to slap her in the face with that fact. Of course Brooklyn didn’t want to know that Michael was the initiator.
“That’s not what I meant,” she quickly back peddled. “I, well, I didn’t encourage it, but I didn’t exactly—what I mean to say is, neither of us wanted to kiss.” That was just plain stupid, which each face looking at her reflected. It wasn’t as if they had tripped and fallen into a kiss.
Why in the world hadn’t she planned what she was going to say once she actually caught up with her sister? She was a lawyer for Christ’s sake! She was supposed to be an expert at talking people out of trouble.
She took a deep breath. “Brooklyn, there is nothing—nothing—going on between Michael Wright and me. If you want him, he’s yours. I’m done interfering.”
There. That was better. Succinct. To the point.
There was silence at the table as they all stared at her. She couldn’t quite read their faces, but at least she had cleared the air.
Finally Justine broke out with a sharp laugh. “Bee, you need to stop frontin’” she said, turning to Brooklyn.
Both sisters looked at her with surprise.
“She’s right, Brooklyn,” Annie said. “This is getting painful to watch. I mean, she did buy us all dinner after all.”
London was completely lost. “Is anyone going to get me up to speed here?”
“Our girl Brooklyn has a new BAE,” Martina said, giving Brooklyn a satisfied smirk.
“What’s a BAE?” London asked, now thoroughly confused.
They all looked at her as though she had asked if the moon was larger than the sun.
“Before anyone else?” said Martina.
“And he’s not my BAE,” said Brooklyn giving Martina a dirty look.
They all laughed.
“Even though you didn’t come home until late this morning?” said Annie
“And you won’t shut up about him?” laughed Kay.
London was beginning to get the picture. She thought back to the handsome man standing next to Brooklyn last night. “Is it Alex? Michael’s brother?”
The girls laughed even harder.
London could practically see the steam coming out of Brooklyn’s ears. She felt a tiny stab of guilty pleasure at seeing the tables turned, until Brooklyn opened her mouth.
“Why? So you can steal him too?” she spat.
The table went silent.
“For Pete’s sake, Brooklyn! I didn’t steal Michael!”
“It’s okay,” she said dismissively. “Like everyone said, I’m not even interested in Michael. Take him, he’s yours.” She crossed her arms and stared London down.
“I don’t want him!” London said with frustration.
“Why not?” Brooklyn said, her face creasing with honest surprise.
Even her friends were giving her confused looks.
“He’s rich!” said Martina
“And hot…for a white guy,” said Kay. That threw London and she turned to look at the diminutive half white, half Asian girl. “I’m only into black guys,” she shrugged. “But Michael could get it,” she laughed. That got everyone other than the two Jefferson sisters going again.
Who were these friends of Brooklyn’s?
“Oh my god!” Annie squealed. “Can you imagine? Two sisters dating Wright brothers?”
“Hold on a second. I’m not dating a Wright,” London clarified.
“That double wedding would be off the hook!” Justine announced, ignoring her.
“No one is getting married,” protested Brooklyn.
Martina chimed in. “We’re just saying, when they put a ring on it—
“There’s not going to be a ring!”
“I’m not dating Michael!”
“—you better hook a girl up!” she finished.
Brooklyn’s friends chattered on as the two sisters looked across the table at one another wondering how it had gotten out of hand. Eventually they burst out laughing at one another, which caused the others to go quiet and look back and forth at the two sisters once again.
They were all walking back to Brooklyn’s apartment. Her four friends were a few steps ahead, well lubricated after the third bottle of wine London had sprung for, and making a public show of it.
The two Jefferson sisters were next to one another finally having their heart to heart.
“So, what’s up with this Alex?” London prodded.
&nbs
p; Brooklyn gave her a warning look.
London put her hands up in the air in protest. “I don’t mean it like that. I’m just being conversational; I’m not trying to pry.”
Brooklyn searched her face for confirmation, then turned to look forward, satisfied London was telling the truth. She just shrugged. “I’m not sure. I like him, and I think he likes me.”
London saw the smile on her sister’s face and knew there was more to it than that. “Is he responsible for the Town Car?”
Brooklyn spun on her sister with another warning glare.
“Okay, okay!” London said, backing off. “Never mind.” That pretty much answered her question.
“So what about you and Michael?” Brooklyn countered.
“Like I said, there’s nothing—”
“Yeah, yeah, nothing between you and Michael,” Brooklyn mimicked. “Now tell me the real truth.”
“What in the world does that mean?”
“I saw the way you were kissing him.”
“He kissed me”
“You didn’t look like you were protesting too much,” Brooklyn laughed. “What are you so opposed to him for? Like my girls said, he’s handsome, rich—”
“You shouldn’t date someone just because they’re rich,” London said, looking at Brooklyn with concern.
Brooklyn gave her a withering look. “I’m not with Alex because of his father, or his money. I didn’t even know who he was when we first”—she cast a guilty glance toward her sister—“met.”
London left that alone. As long as Brooklyn was with this guy for the right reasons, she’d let it be.
“Are you worried about dad?” Brooklyn continued. “I don’t know what this hang-up he has about me dating outside my race is.”
“He’s just old fashioned,” London said.
“You mean racist?” Brooklyn replied. “And, frankly, hypocritical. I mean, look at mom. She’s like the whitest black person on earth. Green eyes? Hair that’s practically blonde? Talk about projecting.”
Mr. Wright & Mr. Wrong: A BWWM Romance Page 10