Heartfelt

by Danielle Allen

  “You weren’t lying when you said there wasn’t going to be too many people in here.”

  He laughed. “Yeah. And the beer is expensive as hell and the music sucks.”

  “Oh you tell me that after I get here. In the text message you didn’t say none of that shit.”

  “What are you two laughing about?” Courtney asked, giving me a quick hug.

  I smiled at her as she tucked herself under Malik’s arm. Courtney was cute. With her braids piled high on the top of her head, she gave me a big smile.

  Malik answered first. “I was telling Roman that your coworker’s band should be up next.”

  “Mmm hmm,” she said, pursing her lips. She looked over at me. “Malik has been pouting because a couple of the other guys bailed so he’s the last man standing. I’m glad you showed up to keep him company.”

  Malik kissed her on the top of her head. “Wherever you are, I’ll be.”

  “I’m headed to the bar,” I announced as she giggled and said something I chose not to hear.

  Only a few of the barstools were taken so I chose one in the corner. I had just put in an order when Malik sat down on the stool beside me.

  “Do you remember Copeland Jenner?” I asked, tapping my bottle of water against the surface of the bar. I kept my eyes straight ahead.

  “Wow, I haven’t heard that name in a long time. Copeland Jenner your…” He seemed to struggle to find a word. “Ex?”

  I ran my hand down my face. ”I wouldn’t call her an ex, but yeah, that Copeland.”

  When I turned to look at Malik, his face look perplexed. “What’s up? Talk to me. A few hours ago, you didn’t want to come out because you wanted to wait by the phone for B to call. And now you come in here talking about Copeland. What’s going on?”

  I shook my head. “No, no. Nothing like that. B is The One. Period.”

  “I know. I was just checking that you still knew.” He laughed to himself before he asked, “So what made you think about Copeland after all this time?”

  “I ran into her a few days ago when I confronted Ashton.”

  “Oh, okay. You skipped that part when you told me the story the other day, but continue,” Malik joked.

  Ignoring him, I finished, “I ran into her. We happened to be in the elevator together. So then on my way here tonight, I walk by that restaurant with the art work in the window and I saw her again. It looked like she was on a date with Ashton.”

  He made a face. “That’s odd.”

  I chuckled. “That’s what I said. But it’s a good thing though. If he’s trying to get with Copeland, he’ll leave B alone.”

  “Yeah. But what’s really odd is that you and Ashton have the same taste in women,” Malik joked unable to hold his laughter.

  I struggled to hold back my amusement as I watched him bang his fist against the bar as he cracked up.

  “Are you done?” I asked with a shake of the head. “How many drinks did you have tonight?”

  “Not enough to make this music any better.”

  I laughed and shoved his shoulder.

  “So what made you come down here for real?” Malik asked a few minutes later as we waited for the next act to start up again.

  I nodded, knowing Malik could tell something was up.

  “Okay,” I started. “It makes sense to move to New York.”

  Malik smiled but stayed silent. And that was the exact response I needed. I didn’t go to Malik for permission. I just wanted my plan acknowledged.

  Courtney waved her hand and caught my attention. I motioned toward her with my head and Malik’s eyes made a beeline for her. She pointed to the stage excitedly.

  “I guess this is who we are here to see,” he mumbled, standing.

  I stood as well, following behind him to Courtney and her friends.

  “I hope they’re good,” I commented just before we reached their table.

  The music started with guitar riffs that didn’t quite match the beat the drummer created.

  What the hell is this?

  I tried to sit through it but the jumbled sound was grating on my nerves. I tapped Malik to let him know I was leaving when my phone vibrated.

  B.

  I slapped Malik across his back and hugged Courtney. Waving goodbye to the rest of the group, I answered the phone.

  The lead singer took that opportunity to scream into the mic.

  “Can you hear me?” I asked as I stepped out of the bar and onto the sidewalk. The cool breeze whipped around and I zipped my leather jacket up. “Hello?”

  “I’m here.” Her voice was cool and I immediately knew something was wrong. “Sounds like you’re out.”

  I started walking slowly, frowning in confusion. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m going to ask you something and I don’t want to come off as jealous because that’s not me at all.” She paused and I felt myself get nervous.

  Bianca isn’t the jealous type. She knows I know that. So what the hell is going on?

  Her silence was killing me.

  “I know you don’t have any female friends because, I mean, let’s be honest, you have three friends.”

  This is true.

  “Talk to me, B,” I implored, turning the corner and walking up the block toward my car. Sidestepping a group of people who lumbered past me, I anxiously waited for her to say something.

  “Is there…someone else?”

  I wanted to brush off the question as ridiculous because it was. There was no one in the world that could compare to Bianca.

  She’s the love of my life. She’s my muse. She’s my everything.

  “Absolutely not,” I answered forcefully.

  How could she doubt that?

  Her voice was low as she replied, “So there’s no one that you’re spending time with?”

  “B, no. Hell no. There’s no one, but you. You know that right?”

  “I know, but I’m sitting here in this hotel room and I’m missing you. I’ve been missing you all night. And when I got your text message about you going to hang out with Malik, I was glad. You don’t go out with them as much as you probably should. So I was happy to curl up with a good book and wait until you got home.”

  No seriously. What the hell is going on?

  “But,” she continued, her voice wavering. “When I got out of the shower, I received an email that didn’t sit well with me.”

  I opened my mouth to ask her what it said and what it had to do with me when she interrupted.

  “Who’s Copeland?”

  ----------

  Chapter Sixteen

  All of the air left my lungs. I sat in my car as I listened to Bianca recount the email.

  “It just said, ‘Ask your boyfriend about Copeland Jenner.’ That’s it.”

  “Who was it from?” I asked, feeling the anger bubbling beneath the surface. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles hurt.

  If she says Ashton, I swear I will—

  “Can we circle back around to the real question at hand? Who is Copeland?”

  “She is no one. I took a couple of classes with her in undergrad.” I hesitated. I didn’t want to keep anything from Bianca.

  Well anything else, I thought ruefully as my trust fund, apartment, and growing desire to live with her flashed through my mind.

  Feeling the searing pain lance through my chest, I pushed the rest of the words out of me.

  “We’ve hooked up. She was the first after everything happened with Tia. It was nothing. It was meaningless sex to numb the pain. She thought it was more and when I realized that, I ended it. We didn’t talk again. She graduated and moved away. I graduated a year later. And I hadn’t seen her again until Wednesday.”

  Bianca was quiet for a minute. “Why would someone send me an email saying for me to ask you about her?”

  “Because Ashton is an asshole.”

  “So nothing happened?”

  “Nothing happened. Nothing would ever happen. With her or
anyone else. B, listen to me, I love you.” I started the car and pulled out of the parking spot. I headed toward the restaurant with the art in the window.

  Bianca sighed heavily into the phone. “I love you more than anything, Ro.”

  “I wish I was there right now,” I admitted as I rolled to a stop, craning my neck in search of Ashton.

  Yeah, he’s lucky he’s gone already, I thought fuming. I gunned my engine in frustration and sped off.

  Bianca was so quiet on the other end that I thought we had been disconnected. I looked at my phone ensuring she was still there before putting it to my ear again. “Hello?”

  “I’m still here.” Her voice was soft, almost reflective. “And I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. The email just caught me off guard and you don’t know unless you ask, right?”

  “Right.”

  “It would be easier if we could see each other every day.”

  I cleared my throat. This is it. Go for it.

  “It would be easier if we lived together,” I blurted out.

  There. I said it.

  The silence that followed was like a vacuum.

  It’s way too soon. Shit! Why did I—

  “You’re right.” Bianca’s throaty voice was careful as it interrupted my thoughts. “If we lived together, it would be easier.”

  An awkward silence passed between us.

  “Courtney asked about you,” I told her, changing the subject and dissipating the awkwardness.

  We talked until I made it in the house. She kept yawning in my ear, but she wouldn’t hang up until I was in the bed. Smiling, I obliged.

  From under the cool sheets, I held the hot phone to my ear and listened to her breathing. She was almost sleeping and if I closed my eyes tight enough, I could imagine her falling asleep by my side.

  “Bianca,” I whispered, allowing myself to become full with the thought.

  She didn’t respond, but her steady breaths didn’t waiver.

  Feeling confident that she was sleeping, I softly admitted, “I want you to be the last thing I see before I close my eyes at night and the first thing I see when I open them in the morning.”

  I waited.

  Nothing.

  “I don’t have to worry about in between that time because I always see you in my dreams.”

  I waited again. Nothing.

  “Goodnight B,” I murmured into the phone. “I love you.”

  Hanging up the phone, I ran my hand down my face and stared at the ceiling.

  What is she doing to me?

  With my eyes getting heavy, I let them close as I replayed our conversation.

  It would be easier if we lived together. It would be. But that’s not why I want to live with her. Now she’s going to think that I think of living with her as a convenience. I need to get my shit together and just tell her. Not telling her is driving me crazy. I need to tell her, see what happens and then regroup from there.

  As soon as the thought crossed my mind, my heart clenched.

  First thing in the morning, I’ll do it.

  I fell asleep soon thereafter and woke up hours later coated in sweat. My heart was racing, my stomach churned and a sense of dread swept through my entire body. I sat straight up and immediately grabbed my phone.

  Something’s wrong.

  I called Bianca and although she didn’t answer, she replied with a short text message.

  Bianca Baker: Good morning! Overslept and running late for this breakfast meeting. Talk to you soon. Love you!

  I remembered Bianca saying that she and Nina were having a breakfast meeting with an artist Nina wanted to use for an exhibition. Feeling out-of-sorts, I went for a run, thinking it would clear my mind and kill some time before Bianca finished her meeting. When I finished, I saw that I had missed her call.

  Calling Bianca back, I became increasingly anxious when she didn’t answer. I tried to shake it off, but the uneasy feeling wouldn’t budge. After a shower and breakfast, I received another text message.

  Bianca Baker: Hey! I’m on the train with Nina. We’re discussing the exhibition with a couple of other curators from the city. The meeting went well. This extended, impromptu meeting that’s happening now is cutting into my reading and nap time. But I laughed my ass off just now because one of the curators asked me where I was from and when I said Richmond, she asked me if I’d seen the work of an up-and-coming artist named Roman Harper. How cool is that? I kept it professional and said that I know you, but I didn’t add that I know you biblically. I thought that might come off as bragging.

  I smirked and shook my head, feeling a little more settled. She easily amused me.

  Roman Harper: I’d tell anyone who’d listen that I know THE Bianca Baker biblically. I know you inside and out.

  Bianca Baker: Oh no sir! Absolutely not! I will not let you get my panties wet while I’m talking expressionism versus realism with these women. Goodbye!

  Roman Harper: Haha! Just tell me you’re okay and that you’ll call me when you get to New York.

  Bianca Baker: I’m fine. Tired, but fine. Wish they would stop talking so I can take a nap, but fine. I’ll be home in a few hours and I’ll call you as soon as possible. Unless I take a nap. Then I’ll call you as soon as I wake up.

  Even though our exchange was only for a few minutes, the small amount of time helped with the anxiousness I felt. But it didn’t calm my nerves completely.

  I paced and made a half-assed attempt at sketching a large piece as I waited for Bianca to call me back. The four-and-a-half hour train ride from Washington, D.C. to New York City was killing me slowly.

  What is taking so long?

  I paced across my living room, still feeling off. When my phone rang, I answered it with shaky fingers.

  “B!”

  “Ro!” Bianca laughed. “Can I point out the irony of this? When you were actually unreachable for almost forty-eight hours, you acted annoyed that I wanted to hear from you. Now cut to three weeks later and you’re practically chomping at the bit to get in touch with me. I’d be creeped out if it wasn’t such a turn on.” She giggled again and my heart sped up and flipped at the sound.

  “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “Why are you so worried?” Bianca’s voice changed from playful to concerned instantly. “Did something happen?”

  “Nothing happened. Just—”

  Bianca’s scream pierced through the phone, stabbing me in the eardrum.

  I cringed slightly as the shock rippled through me. “What? Bianca, what’s wrong?” Gripping the phone tightly, I stood frozen in place. “Bianca! Answer me!”

  “Oh my God… I need to call the police, Ro. I’ll call you right back.”

  “Bianca! B—”

  The line went silent as the call was disconnected.

  “Fuck!” I yelled, finally able to move.

  I took off running across the living room and up the stairs. Snatching my duffle bag, I stuffed a few pairs of jeans, some shirts and boxer briefs in a bag. Tossing a toothbrush and other essentials into my toiletry bag, I was out of my room and downstairs putting on my leather jacket in less than four minutes.

  Grabbing my keys, I rushed to my car. The engine had just started roaring when my phone went off.

  “B! What’s going on?” I barked, gripping the steering wheel.

  “I had to call the police.” Her voice trembled and my stomach dropped. “We’ve been vandalized.”

  “What? Where are you?” I knew I sounded panicked, so I exhaled, forcing myself to calm down. “Start at the beginning.”

  “Nina wasn’t feeling well, so I told her I would stop by the gallery and drop off the stuff we got from D.C. Someone had spray painted all over the glass.”

  I felt my heart rate slowing. Running my hand down my face, I slumped against the seat and let my head roll back.

  That’s it? Thank God.

  I knew she was upset and clearly shaken by the damage done at her place of employ
ment, but my heart rate returned to normal.

  She’s safe.

  Relief started washing over me, but her quick breaths into the phone made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I ran my hand over the spot above my heart.

  Something’s not right. The way she reacted, I thought something had happened to her.

  “B, I’m sorry that happened. The way you screamed, I thought something had happened to you.” I ran my hand down my face before turning off the engine. “I was about to drive to New York. I didn’t know what had happened.”

  I heard the police talking in the background and she seemed to walk away from the noise. “Ro, the…Nina!” The phone sounded muffled, but I could still hear her. “Yeah, that’s the officer you need to speak with. Yeah. Okay, I’ll be right there. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m sorry, Nina.” Seeming to uncover the phone with her hand, she sighed, “Ro?”

  “I’m here. What’s wrong, B? I can hear it in your voice.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on, Ro. I really don’t. And I’m scared.”

  My anxiety revved back up and I started the car again. “What’s wrong? Talk to me. Start at the beginning.”

  “Like I told you the other day, two different artists on two different days came by the gallery for meetings with Nina. They weren’t on Nina’s schedule and when she met with them, they both said they got an email from me scheduling the meeting. The second artist showed me her email and it wasn’t my email. The email was biancabakeratphogallery@mail.com.”

  What the hell is going on?

  “The other day when you said the emails weren’t from you, I thought you meant there was a mix up. You never told me the email address. Shit…”

  Shit, that’s deliberate. But what does that have to do with today? Unless…

  My heart rate spiked. “What makes you think those meetings have anything to do with today?”

  “Because just like I didn’t understand how they got my name, I don’t understand how whoever vandalized the gallery got my name.” Her voice was low, barely a whisper. “Ro, I don’t know what’s going on and I’m scared.”