by H Q Kingsley
Quinn let out an exasperated breath. “Please, you love seeing me.”
“I never said I didn’t. But…” I turned to him as I pulled up to a red light. “Bobbi is madly in love with you. It’s far time you decide if it’s mutual.”
Quinn frowned, and I could see it in his eyes—he’d been thinking the same thing. He’d been stringing Bobbi along for the better part of two years. He cleared his throat with a nod. “I know,” he said softly.
I reached out to place my hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as I left him to his thoughts. I knew Quinn; he wasn’t intentionally misleading Bobbi. Hell, he probably had no idea why the man was so in love with him, but Quinn had a knack for not knowing what he wanted. In most instances, it made him kind of fearless. Who else but Quinn could be a teacher by day and a bartender by night? But in other instances, it left him as the bad guy breaking someone’s heart.
I turned up the radio to fill some of the silence as we made our way through traffic. Only the sounds of MC Lyte and Greyson’s constant texting floated through the car until we pulled up to Quinn’s elementary school.
“Thanks for the ride,” he said as he climbed out of the car. “Happy birthday, bro!” He turned his gaze to the back seat. “Stay out of trouble,” he said mockingly.
“Always.” Greyson grinned after him as he headed toward the building.
“Why don’t you hop up here,” I said, patting the empty passenger seat.
Greyson gazed skeptically back at me before he stepped out of the car with a sigh. He opened the passenger door and plopped in.
“Cool, cool,” I said, as I pulled away from the curb, trying my best to be casual.
“Dad, it’s cool,” Greyson said with a groan.
“Huh? What’s cool?”
“Quinn said that I’m getting laid and you’ve been freaking out about it ever since, right?”
I blinked over at him before turning my eyes back to the road. “Uh, well, yeah.” Jesus, the kid was too smart for his own good.
“I’m not having sex, Dad,” Greyson said calmly.
I slowly nodded my head, trying to collect my thoughts. My own father hadn’t been around when I was Greyson’s age, and I was determined to be better. “Are you…sure?”
Greyson chuckled. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’d know.”
I laughed. “Fair point.” I sucked in a breath. “Okay. Good. Because you know you can talk to me if you’re thinking about—”
“I know, Dad. But I’m not. I’m fine.”
I cringed. Could that really be true? What teenage boy wasn’t thinking about having sex? Especially my teenage boy. He was smart, charming, and handsome. I shook my head. Was I actually upset that my sixteen-year-old wasn’t getting laid? I was losing my goddamn mind.
“So, you’re not even considering it?” I asked, wondering why the hell I was pushing it. “Because you know you can talk to me about…if something else is going on too.”
Greyson groaned. “I’m not gay either, if that’s where this is going.” I opened my mouth, and he cut me off. “Or questioning, or anything else you’re about to hint at. I’m just not interested in the girls at my school.”
“Oh.” I nodded, considering whether I should circle back around to the gay thing. I hadn’t been interested in any of the girls at my school either. I looked over at him as I pulled into a line of traffic.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Greyson protested. “Look, I love you, Dad, and I love Karlyle, but you guys sent me to a private school that’s very, very rich and very, very white.”
“Ah,” I said, some of the pieces falling into place.
“I’m the adopted black athlete. Every girl in my class at best thinks of me as a prop to mess with daddy and at worst, a sideshow act, which doesn’t exactly make me want to bone.”
I held up my hand. “Got it.”
“Great. Can we be done talking about this?”
“Yes.” I shook my head as I let out a breath, pulling into the drop-off line. “Well…”
Greyson groaned. “Dad, no! It’s too early.”
“No, this isn’t about the sex thing, it’s just…your two red-headed uncles? That was my family. Someone as dark as me, standing next to them growing up… Well, we just all have our crosses to bear. It takes a while to find your place in the world, Grey.” I grinned at him. “And I found mine in a Brooklyn brownstone, so I’d say I did pretty good, huh?”
Greyson laughed. “Yeah.” He met my eyes. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Anytime.”
The drive to my office was shorter than I expected. I let myself in, arriving long before anyone else. That was the thing about driving in New York. You never really knew if getting somewhere would take you two hours or twenty minutes, and there was absolutely no way to predict it.
It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. I liked having a little extra time in the morning to get myself together. I was at the top of my game and, to stay there, I had to micromanage. An extra hour in the morning to double-check everyone’s work was a gift…sort of.
I didn’t exactly love my job. Being the director of accounting wasn’t the glamorous lifestyle of the rich and famous, but I was doing better than I’d ever thought I’d be. My childhood self couldn’t have even dreamed up the life I’d built for myself.
I settled in at my desk and took an appreciative look around. The flawlessly cleaned glass doors, the neat, matching furniture set strategically, placed off-center in the corner. I’d done all of that. I’d made it.
I had the corner office, the beautiful family, and yet there was still this constant pit in my stomach telling me there was more. Telling me to keep moving. Telling me I wasn’t good enough yet.
I swallowed it down, sitting up straighter to type at my computer. I wouldn’t let my doubts drown me today, or at least not first thing in the morning.
My phone chimed in my pocket, and I reached for it, instinctively putting it to my ear before checking the caller ID.
“Hello?”
The silence on the other end gave me pause, and I pulled the phone away to read the number on the screen. Two, one, zero. San Antonio. It was a life I’d long since left behind.
“Hello?” I said again, preparing to hang up.
“Hello, Antwon. How are you, nephew?”
A lump formed in my throat, and I tried to clear it. “Auntie Beth?”
“Oh, good. You remember my voice.”
I frowned. I hadn’t, but my mother had no family, and Beth was the only person still alive that would call me nephew, unfortunately. She was just as big a mess as her brother. Neither one of them came with anything but damage and heartache.
“What do you want?” My voice had gone cold, but my heart raced in my chest. I hadn’t spoken to my aunt since I’d left Texas, and I never expected to hear from her again.
“Still the same old Antwon, I see. Right to the point.”
I rolled my eyes, nearly ready to hang up on her. My father brought out the worst in me. His family, his associates, everything he ever touched, he left a little bit of poison on.
“You need to come home,” she said, making me roll my eyes again.
“New York is home,” I countered.
She grumbled something I didn’t catch. “Your father’s dead.”
I stilled for a moment. “No, he isn’t,” I said with a sigh.
“Antwon, he’s really gone this time. You need to come home.”
I opened my mouth to argue with her, to tell her she was delusional if she actually believed Malik was dead, and twice as crazy to think I’d ever go back to Texas. I took a deep breath, ready to hand her ass back to her until she spoke again.
“It’s time you meet your brother.”
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Excerpt of An Alabama Christmas
Trey
“Go make sure your room is cleaned. And I mean spotless, Trey. I’ll be up to check,” Momma fussed at me as she stirred a pot ov
er the stove.
I grumbled as I trudged from the kitchen to the stairs. Twenty-two years old and still being told by my mother to clean my room. Life was grand, huh? I’d done everything right, gone to college, even got my business degree in the designated four years and yet, six months after graduation I was still living in my childhood bedroom, grumbling under my breath because my mother wanted it clean. No job, a mountain of loan debt, and nothing to keep me warm at night but Batman covers.
I sighed as I reached the top of the stairs and headed for my room. God, I hate this, I thought as I picked up stray socks and put them into the hamper. I’d barely been in my room two minutes before Momma barreled up after me.
“Uh-uh. You need to put that hamper in the closet or something. Nobody needs to see your dirty drawers.”
I groaned. “Really, ma? He’s a marine, not Barack Obama. I don’t think he’s going to care one way or another where I keep my ‘dirty drawers’ as long as I ain’t wearing them.”
She narrowed her eyes, crossing her hands over her chest. “You being smart with me? Because I brought you in this world and I’ll take you back out just as quick. You ain’t too grown to get popped.”
I started to roll my eyes, but then thought better of it. “Fine, ma. I’m moving it.”
“Hurry up and get downstairs. Your sister said she’s on her way.”
I nodded. At least I’d have someone to take some of the pressure off. Chasity, unlike me, was the family fuck-up. Pregnant at sixteen, married at eighteen to a different man, and a string of arrests in between. She and Momma went at it like cats and dogs every holiday, pulling her suffocating attention off me.
It only peeved me off just a tiny bit knowing that Chasity had made so many mistakes and yet she wasn’t the one still living at home.
The doorbell rang and my heart jumped in my chest. I flew for the stairs like an excited puppy going to see its owner.
By the time I made it downstairs, Momma was already giving Chasity a hard time. “You said you were on your way, not here already.”
“Trey Day!” Chasity brushed past her, spreading her arms to me.
“Chasity.” I moved toward her, sweeping her into my arms. She had ten years on me, but she was about as big as your average twelve-year-old. My whole family suffered from genetic shortness. At 5’7”, I was the tallest person in the family.
“How you been, baby brother? You don’t call, you don’t write.” She wagged her finger, huffing with the full force of a failed drama major.
I laughed. “Chasity, I just talked to you yesterday.”
She shrugged. “I know, but that’s the kind of thing they say in the movies, ain’t it? This is, like, Briggs family Christmas circa 2018.”
I shook my head. God, I missed her goofy ass. I scooped her up for one last hug before my eyes caught sight of the tiny young woman toting a butterfly suitcase behind her.
“What’s up, small fry?” I said, letting my sister go and going in for my niece.
“Uncle T!” she cooed as I lifted her up and propped her onto my hip. She was getting entirely too big for me to carry her like that, but I only got to see her for holidays and summers. In my head, she was still just a little thing and not a nearly pubescent ten-year-old starting school.
“Where’s Curtis?” Momma interrupted, staring at my sister in disapproval when her husband didn’t seem to be with her.
“He’s not coming, Momma. He had to work.”
I shot her a look as I put Willow down. Curtis had lost his job months ago, so if he wasn’t with her, it certainly wasn’t because he was working.
“That’s a hard-working man.” Momma shook her head. “Give him my love when you speak to him.” She placed a quick kiss to Willow’s head. “Now, go put your stuff away and you ladies come help me cook.”
“Jesus, Momma!” Chasity said as she stepped into the kitchen. “How many people are you expecting?”
Momma hummed in thought for a moment. “There’s your brother, the marine, the kids, Uncle Tom, Auntie Ellen…”
“And you’re the one doing all the cooking?”
“I always take care of my people, Chasity. Something you would know if you came around more often.”
Chasity put her hand on her hip. “Well, can you blame me? You aren’t the easiest person to be around, Momma.”
Momma threw her hands in the air. “This again. So you came just to fight with me?”
“Momma…”
I took a step back, quietly trying to make an exit. “And they’re off,” I whispered down to my niece who giggled in response.
Suddenly, it was starting to feel like the holidays.
I moved to the edge of my sister’s bed and took a seat. Nobody had touched it since she’d moved out. It was a shrine to Chasity’s past.
I’d always figured our mother secretly hoped one day Chasity would get divorced and move back home. Nothing was likely to make her happier than having all of her kids under her roof again, grown as we were.
“God, it’s always so creepy when I come back here. Why doesn’t she paint or something? Or at least take down the B2K posters. It’s a fucking time capsule in here,” Chasity fussed as she unpacked.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s one week, Chas. You’ll survive.” I leaned back onto her bed. “Look, at me; I’ve been here seven months and I’m still alive and kicking…” I scrunched my face up. “Well, alive at least.”
She plopped down next to me as she refolded a shirt. “I really don’t know how you do it. The woman is insufferable.”
“She’s not that bad.” Chasity shot me a look. “You get used to it.”
“Not me. I had to get out, no matter what.”
I sat up to look at her. There was something in her tone that gave me a chill. “Something you want to tell me?”
She hesitated for a moment before she shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just life stuff, I guess. I’m figuring it out.”
“Chas,” I started, but stopped when she smiled down at me.
“No, really, I’m fine, Trey Day.” She climbed to her feet and opened one of her bags. “I got you something.”
My eyebrows raised. “A gift? For me?” I placed my hands out and closed my eyes. “Yes, please.”
I waited for a long moment and frowned when I didn’t feel her place anything into my upturned palms. I cracked my eyes open to find a mountain of hair care products on the bed next to me.
“What’s this?” I asked, picking up one of the bottles.
She gave me a grin that made my stomach sink. “I got my cosmetology license!”
My brows knitted together. “Okay, and? I’m still not following.”
“And it’s way past time to give you a makeover.” She reached over to pat at my hair. “You’ve been rocking the black power ‘fro way too long, Trey. Join the rest of us in 2018, baby bro.”
I swatted at her hands. “Hey! Stop that!” I let out a breath. “But you may have a point.” Truth was, I hadn’t done much self-maintenance. I’d never been particularly stylish or current. Maybe a physical upgrade would do something for my declining confidence.
“Alright,” I agreed. “I leave myself in your newly certified hands.”
“Great!” She squealed. Late night makeover party it is!”
“Do we have to call it that?”
She squealed again as she nodded with a grin. “Yeah, I think we really do.” She collected all of the bottles on the bed in her arms and began lining them along her vanity. “We’ll get started after I put Willow to sleep, and we get the marine settled in. What’s his name again?”
“Alan.” I pursed my lips. “Or Aaron…Eric?” I shook my head. “I don’t remember. Momma has a creepy stalker file on him downstairs.” I climbed off her bed. “Speaking of which, I’ve got to go make sure the basement is perfect one last time before she has a conniption.”
I placed a quick kiss to her cheek and headed for the door. I gave her one last look over my shoulder. “I�
�m really glad you’re here,” I said as I moved for the stairs.
I always forgot how much I missed her. She was the only person who really understood anything about me, even if she didn’t actually know everything. But Chasity had always been that way. She had a light in her that people were drawn to. She made everyone around her feel like they were heard. It was probably the only reason her wild teen rebellions hadn’t landed her in prison. The woman could talk her way out of damn near anything.
As I stepped into the basement, my mood changed. It was hands down the best guestroom I’d ever seen in my life. Momma had sprung for a new TV and bed, and he even had a little mini-fridge set up in the corner. I, on the other hand, was a grown man not allowed to eat outside of the kitchen.
I mumbled to myself, pouting as I made sure the bed was made to perfection.
As I double-checked my hospital corners, Momma poked her head through the door at the top of the stairs. “Looks good,” she said after a moment. “Come on upstairs. He’ll be here in a minute.”
I nodded, finishing up and giving the room one more glance. It did look good. I’d completely outdone myself.
I climbed the stairs and was surprised to find everyone waiting in the living room.
“So, we’re just going to wait by the door? That’s not creepy at all,” I said dryly.
“Hush up, now,” Momma snapped, waving me to her side.
Chasity squirmed in beside me, gripping Willow in her arms. “What if this guy is like a psycho killer looking for his next group of victims,” she said softly.
“That’s what I said!” I giggled and she joined me before Momma shot us both a look that was her silent way of saying you two better not embarrass me.
“Both of you stop it. He’s a fine young man protecting our country. Show some respect.”
As if on cue, a car pulled to a stop in front of the house. We all silenced, listening as we heard the door open and shut on the Lyft outside. I desperately wanted to shuffle to the window to get a sneak peek at him, but all of my limbs had gone completely numb. Suddenly, I was nervous. I’d said it jokingly, but what if he really was a killer? I kicked myself for not reading his file like Momma had asked.