Nine.
“What if you’re like… the ugly twin?” I asked, making Troy stop walking to put a hand over his mouth as he laughed. I stopped too, turning to face him and pull him out of the way of what appeared to be a daycare group transporting a group of toddlers somewhere.
“We’re identical,” he reminded me, even though I hadn’t forgotten. “We look alike. There’s not an “ugly” one.”
I sucked my teeth. “You haven’t seen him yet, how would you know? And, for the record, just so you know, I’m gonna be pissed if he’s the fine one.”
“Damn, it’s like that?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“You still haven’t explained what could possibly make dude better-looking than me – which is damn near impossible, by the way – when we supposedly have the same damn face.”
I bit down on my lip, thinking about it. “Well… maybe he drinks more water or something? Uses better lotion. Works out more. Has a cooler haircut. Maybe he’s slightly taller than you, huh? Or hell, maybe he has “Property of Juliet Nichols” tattooed across his forehead. Let’s be honest here – my name increases the value of pretty much everything, so…”
“Bring your pretty ass on,” he said, still laughing as he grabbed my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. I tried not to outwardly show how excited it made me, played it off by wrinkling my nose at him. Inside though? I was nothing but butterflies, and it had been like that for days now. I’d already been crushing on him, obviously, but the aftermath of our first little “spat”, and getting his ancestry results, had brought us… closer somehow.
Close enough that I was referring to us having a “first” anything, when we hadn’t even had a conversation about making anything official yet.
I wasn’t even sure I wanted that.
But it sure did feel good to be openly holding hands as he led me down the street, back towards my studio, after lunch.
“I wonder if your brother is gonna think I’m cute too,” I mused, putting a finger up to my cheek as I pretended to think. “I bet he won’t try to play me off with some garbage about checking out my hairstyle. I bet he can admit I’m fine with no issues.”
“Listen,” Troy stopped walking again, turning to get right in front of me as he dropped his hands to my waist. I grinned as he backed me against the side of the closest building, wearing a little smirk. “Brother or not, I’ll beat his ass over you, don’t be starting no—”
“Jules? Jules! Jules, baby is that you?!”
Oh my God!
I quickly slipped out of Troy’s grasp at the sound of my Aunt Darcy’s voice, trying in vain to look a little less like we were “together”, but I was already caught. She’d come out of the door to Posh Petals – the flower shop Troy had chosen for his little PDA – and was now wearing a huge grin.
“That is you,” she gushed, sweeping the glossy strands of her fresh silk-press out of her face to get a better look at Troy, who’d shoved his hands into his pockets – to keep them off of me in front of my aunt. “And who is this?” she asked, still looking at him, even though she was talking to me.
Maybe.
“Troy Baldwin, ma’am. Jules is a… friend of mine,” he told her, extending a hand to shake.
From the look on Aunt Darcy’s face as she accepted his hand, he may as well have called me his wife, because she was undoubtedly plotting a wedding in her head.
Why me, God?
“Uh, Troy, meet my Aunt Darcy, Anika’s mother. Aunt Darcy, this is Troy… a friend.”
“He already introduced himself dear,” she told me with a smirk, still holding Troy’s hand. “With a nice firm hand too, I like that. And palms like these? What do you do, baby?”
Baby? She’s already calling him baby?
“I’m a barber,” he told her. “So… I guess I do technically work with my hands.”
Aunt Darcy’s eyes narrowed a bit, like he’d said something that sparked a new question, but we didn’t need more questions, not ever.
Not ever.
“Uh, Troy, didn’t you have somebody coming in to see you in just a few minutes?” I asked, hoping he’d take the hint that I was trying to separate him from Darcy. To my delight, he did, a smile playing on his lips as he nodded.
“Yes, actually. I should probably head on. It was nice to meet you, Aunt Darcy,” he said, giving her a little bow that made her grin big. And he knew what he was doing, calling her that, knowing the fantasies it was going to set off in her head. The wink he gave me just before he turned to leave confirmed it, and I shot daggers at his back with my eyes until I was grabbed by the shoulders and turned around.
“Young lady,” Aunt Darcy started, barely able to contain her smile. “He is gorgeous. You tell me everything, and you tell it to me right now,” she insisted, folding her arms.
“Auntie please,” I begged, but she shook her head.
“Uh-uh. No way, no how, no ma’am. You’re gone tell me where you found that man honey, pushing you up against the wall like that. I know what that is, and I know what it’s about lil’ girl, so you just get those lips ready to talk.”
“But there’s nothing to talk aboutttt,” I tried, pouting as she grabbed my hand to pull me the rest of the way to the studio. I unlocked the doors, and once we were inside, she looked out the window.
To the barbershop across the street.
“Oh girl,” she chuckled, putting a hand on her chest. “You have so much to tell me about.”
“I mean, do I really though, considering that there’s not even really anything going on between me and Troy? We aren’t a for real couple, we just… look really great together, and love being around each other, and have amazing sex, but that’s all, you know?”
Neither of us said anything for a few seconds, and I hope that meant she was convinced. It only took a quick glance at her face to know otherwise.
“Come here. Let’s talk about this,” she said, grabbing my hand again to lead me to the couch in the waiting area. “I want you to tell me why you wouldn’t want to be “official” with this young man. Do you think there’s someone else? Does he not treat you as well as you deserve? Is he—”
“None of that, Auntie,” I told her, shaking my head. “I took all your lessons about dating, and love, to heart. Troy is… great. Honestly, he is. I guess I just… I don’t want to… Hell, I don’t know,” I whined. “I’m so confused! When I moved here, it was because I was tired of Cali, I wanted to be back here, close to my family. It was time for me to start my business, and I knew I only wanted to start it in one place. That’s all it was supposed to be about – you guys, and Love Notes. Men were not ever a part of that equation, unless it was just about sex, and that’s all it was supposed to be with Troy. But it’s like… I’m just drawn to him, in a way that I can’t help, and he makes me feel a way that I’ve never felt. I like him. And it’s… exhilarating. And confusing. And I want to say terrifying, but that’s not true. I’m not scared at all, and that – the lack of fear – is alarming.”
Aunt Darcy sat back, grinning as she nodded. “Oh boy. You’re reminding me of when I met your uncle, with his big fine ass. Me and my lil’ friends were out at a football game, being fast in our lil’ shorts. Your mama was there too. Will played for the opposing team – our rivals, goddamn Wild Cats. And girl, they whipped our ass. And your Uncle… baby he didn’t care about getting booed for coming up into our stands, still wearing his uniform. He came and stood right in front of me, told me, “I been looking for a pretty chocolate thang like you. You gone be my wife, watch.”
“Oh my God. Why have I never heard this story?! Has Anika heard this story?!’
Darcy smirked as she shook her head. “Nah, I don’t ever tell it, cause your uncle is embarrassed by this next part.”
“Next part? What did you do?”
“Girl I socked him right in his eye. Told that man, I don’t fuck Wild Cats, especially not no light-skinned one with curly hair.”
I clutched the front of my shirt as my shout of laughter turned into a cackle. “No you didn’t, oh my God!”
“I sure as hell did, and didn’t feel bad about it. Who the hell you think you are, coming in my face in that black and orange uniform telling me what I’m gone do?! And you wanna know how that man responded?”
I stopped laughing long enough to nod. “Uh, I have to know.”
“He laughed. His big ass didn’t even flinch, even though his eye started turning purple right there. He told me, “Ain’t nobody scared of you, woman. You watch what I said.” And then he turned around and left. He didn’t argue, didn’t try to convince me, didn’t get all mad, even though he could’ve. He just turned and walked off, left me standing there with my hand hurting from his rock head.”
I snickered. “You wanted him then, didn’t you?”
“Oh girl I wanted him bad,” she laughed. “If you’d seen his butt in those lil’ tight football pants, you would’ve wanted him too.”
“Ewwww!”
She sucked her teeth. “There wasn’t a damn thing “ewww” about that, I’ll tell you that much. But coming back to the point, we were inseparable after that. The campuses were across the street from each other, so we were always at one or the other, me and Will, Doreen and Robert.”
My eyebrows went up. “Like my father, Robert?”
“The very same,” she told me, smiling. “Will and your daddy were good friends. Looked enough alike to be brothers, and acted like it too. Will was heartbroken when your Daddy died… promised him he’d take care of you. That’s why it was so easy for him to take you on as a daughter after my sister… lost her mind, I guess.”
Aunt Darcy stopped speaking, to shake her head.
“But that was all a long time ago. Right here and now, sounds like you have a decision to make. And I hope you don’t let stubbornness lead you to the wrong one.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know… is it being stubborn, or is it being cautious?”
“Why be either, when you could be happy? And I don’t mean temporary happiness. Not the kind where you know it’s not good for you, but you keep indulging anyway. I’m talking about deep happiness, where you’re blooming and blossoming and comfortable in your skin. And if there’s a certain someone who adds to that, instead of taking away, well, what the hell is wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” I agreed. “It sounds wonderful, and I know it’s possible, because that’s what I feel like I see with you and Uncle Will, but… it’s just hard to wrap my head around it, for me. You have to have a certain level of trust, and I just…” I stopped speaking to shrug, trying to swallow the sudden lump in my throat, and the emotional crack in my voice. “When the people you’re supposed to be able to trust implicitly let you down… it’s hard to let anybody else even close to that space. For years, it has been so easy for me to make superficial connections. Never get close enough for the other stuff. I had you, and Uncle Will, and Anika – my proven riders. I didn’t need anybody else.”
Darcy nodded. “And with Troy… it’s not as easy to keep him out?”
“Auntie, I can’t even bring myself to try. It’s like I’m standing at the wide-open door with a welcome sign. “Come right on in, pussy served on a platter, twenty-four hours a day!””
“Well Juliet, when he looks like that, I mean…”
“Nooo,” I half whined, half laughed. “I don’t want you to encourage me, I want you to tell me to pump my brakes, and slow down, all men are dogs, just buy a dildo and call it a day.”
“A dildo can’t compete with a warm dick and a strong back, first of all,” Darcy scolded. “As long as the man attached to it is worth a damn, that is. And this one seems to be. If he’s not setting off any of the red flags I taught you and Anika, and being with him is what you want to do, I don’t see not one reason not to, so I’m not going to encourage otherwise. If he makes you happy, honey you ride that wave off into the sunset until he doesn’t. And then your Uncle Will will take care of him for hurting our baby.”
I took a deep breath, and sat back. “Okay. You’ve given me something to think about.”
“Then mission accomplished,” she said as she stood. “And I can go ahead about my business.”
“Yeah – what are you doing in the city anyway?”
“I was talking to Simone about my landscaping idea, remember? Anika set up the meeting for me.”
“Oh I didn’t realize it was this week, yay!” I said, pulling her into a hug.
“Thank you baby. My next stop is the web designer you told me about, for a quote. I don’t want to keep her waiting.”
“Of course.” I submitted to being kissed on the cheeks like a baby, then waved my aunt out of the door. While I was standing there, my gaze was drawn across the street, wondering what Troy was doing now. But I quickly dismissed it.
After spending however long talking to my aunt about Troy, I felt like I was being Troy-crazy.
I needed a break.
But I wasn’t destined to get it, not knowing that Troy was right there across the street. I had work to do on my laptop anyway, so instead of hanging around my studio, I decided to just head home.
I was stepping through the door of the bike shop when something different caught my eye. Instead of continuing on to the stairs, I went ahead into the shop, stopping to admire the gorgeous yellow cruiser-style bike that now took up the main display space in the shop window.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
I looked up to see Brittany, the owner, headed my way with a huge smile on her face.
“If I thought I still remembered how to ride a bike, I might have to take this off your hands,” I told her, but she shook her head.
“Not this one, neighbor,” her hands – a mosaic of rich, dark skin contrasted by lines and patches with no pigment – went to the smooth, lacquered finish. “It was a gift.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why do I get the impression this gift was from a good-looking man?”
Brittany laughed. “Well, it was, just probably not in the way you think. My friend Raf sent it to me, from Italy,” she explained, leading me over to a wall of pictures. She pointed at one near the center that made my eyes go wide.
“Uh, you’re friends with fine ass Rafael De Luca, the professional cyclist?” I asked, even though I was very clearly looking at a picture of him with his arm wrapped around Brittany’s neck, pulling her into him to kiss her forehead as he held up one of the crazy amounts of trophies and medals he’d won.
I wasn’t really into professional cycling, but Black America knew who Rafael was. He was ours – his mother had been a professional cyclist as well, one of very few Black American women in the sport in her time, and his father was an Italian cyclist with notoriety of his own, before they joined the military. Raf was tall and fine, and looked good in those bike shorts.
“We kinda grew up together on the Air Force base in Italy. Same school, neighbors, all that. That’s my boo. Platonically, of course.”
I sucked my teeth. “Girl that man is… a national treasure,” I laughed. “With friends that look like that…”
“He aiight,” Brittany admitted, but with her nose wrinkled like it was gross to think about. “Last time I saw him in person – the day of this picture actually – was about five years ago. He licked his finger and put it in my ear.”
I cringed. “Oh so he’s on that annoying brother shit.”
“Exactly,” she laughed. “I need to go check on this customer though, you good?”
“Yeah, I’m heading up to get some work done. I just stopped in because the bike caught my eye. Yellow is my favorite color.”
Brittany smiled. “Well, drop by to admire it anytime. And maybe we can get you on some wheels so you can remember how to ride,” she laughed.
“Girl, I’ll need every piece of padding you’ve got,” I giggled as I headed out of the shop, and up to my apartment.
Once there, I grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and took it with me to my desk. I finalized the order for the extra prints I wanted to display at the launch party, and then moved on to the rest of my to-do list.
My website was scheduled to go live the same day as the party, and it would happen automatically, so there was nothing left for me to do there. I continued down my list to checking my email, most of which were inquiries submitted through the website. I took my time going through and responding, until I landed on one that stopped me cold.
Hello, my name is Marshall Holmes, and I’m reaching out as kind of a long shot. You recently posted pictures from a photoshoot you did at a barbershop that was local to you. Those pictures went viral, and I had a lot of people reaching out to me saying “hey man, this guy in this picture looks just like you, could be your twin. I didn’t think too much of it, because everybody swears you look just like someone on the internet, but in light of a recent discovery about my family… well, frankly, I’m wondering if this man is my twin. I don’t want to put you in the uncomfortable position of asking for this man’s name or contact information, which you may not even have. But I’d be grateful if you could tell me the name of the shop, or what city it’s in. Please, let me know. I’m going to include my social media information at the bottom of this message, in case maybe seeing that I’m a real person (and that I really do look just like the man in your pictures) would help put you at ease enough to share what information you may have.
Thank you in advance.
“Holy shit,” I said out loud, as my eyes skimmed over the email again. My hands were shaking a bit as I clicked on the link to go to his Instagram page, looking for pictures. And sure enough… that was Troy’s face.
No doubt.
Troy wasn’t the “ugly” twin, like I’d teased him about. They were equally beautiful, with a subtle difference in style, judging just from the pictures I saw. More than once, I ran across something here or there that made my heart race, and built my excitement for the time when Troy finally decided to reach out.
Obviously, Marshall was looking for him.
That was still heavy on my mind when my phone chimed, and I picked it up to see that I’d gotten a text from Troy, asking me if I wanted to have dinner with him. Not just grabbing something, but like… a real dinner.
A date.
Of course I wanted to go on a date.
Any plans I had to do actual work were immediately canceled, in favor of getting ready. I showered and shaved and moisturized with my good stuff, and then took down the post-wash French braid I’d wrestled my hair into two days ago, coating my hands in coconut oil to fluff it all out. I took a little more care than usual with my makeup, then dressed in the short-sleeved, abstract print wrap dress I’d been dying for a reason to wear since I bought it two years ago. The short length showed off plenty of thigh, and the dip in the front wasn’t exactly modest, but the way the fabric floated away from my body, instead of clinging, kept it firmly in the camp of sexy, without being overt.
I put on heels for a change of pace, and with a final glance in the mirror decided I looked damn good. Anika must have agreed, because she did a double-take as she walked past the open door of my room and then stepped in, offering a playful wolf-whistle.
“When you said you were going on a daaaate with Troy, I didn’t realize you were gonna do the man like this,” she teased. “He might not let your ass outta here.”
My head tipped to the side as I raised an eyebrow, considering it. “Hmm… I’m actually not sure I’d mind that.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t – oh shit though, I’m home. Can’t do it. Wouldn’t want to be forced to ask a bunch of questions, remember?” she asked dryly, a not-so-subtle reminder that last week’s “sneak Troy out so Anika doesn’t know he was here” thing hadn’t exactly put me on her good side.
Especially since I’d only told her so I’d have somebody to fuss to about him coming at me sideways over that friggin’ pill.
“Nik you know that wasn’t personal,” I assured her. “It’s not that I didn’t want to answer to you – I didn’t want to answer to anybody, self included, because I didn’t have any answers.”
“And now you have some?”
I shrugged. “Not really. Now I just… have no interest in fighting whatever this is. I’m in uncharted territory, no idea what the hell I’m doing. But… I have a good feeling about Troy’s navigation skills.”
“And if either of you crashes this thing on the rocks,” Anika said, arms out as she closed the little distance between us to pull me into a hug. “Your life jacket is right here.”
“That is so goddamn corny, and I love it,” I laughed, hugging her back. We were stepping apart when a knock sounded at the door, putting instant butterflies in my stomach, as if I hadn’t already shared a meal with Troy today.
Anika walked out with me, pretending she had a reason to be in the kitchen, but I knew she just wanted to see Troy’s reaction to me.
What I should have been prepared for, was reacting to him.
Troy just looked good, period, but Troy in slacks instead of jeans, and a lightweight oxford that he filled out with perfection, looking all extra-moisturized was a sight to behold. Hell, I was getting a little extra-moisturized myself just looking at him, and he hadn’t even said anything yet, because he was too busy drinking me in. And when he did say something, it was one word – “Damn!” – before his hands were at my waist, and he was backing me into the apartment with a clear agenda in mind.
“Ahem,” Anika interrupted, clearing her throat all extra-loud.
“You and your mama just love interrupting my flow, huh?” I asked, turning to look at her as Troy planted a kiss on my neck that sent a shiver down my spine.
She laughed. “Just reminding you that I was here. This is mean by the way, y’all being all lovey dovey and shit while I’m working on three months without being touched by man. So inconsiderate. Hi Troy.”
“Hi Anika,” he chuckled. “And, my bad. I’d ask if you wanted me to introduce you to somebody, but all my friends are trash.”
“Oh we know,” Anika and I said, nearly in unison.
Anika shook her head as she put the finishing touches on the crackers and cheese she’d fixed for herself, then picked up her plate. “I’m not looking for anyone anyway, but thanks. Y’all are cute or whatever though. I approve.”
“We appreciate that cousin, we were just burning for your approval,” I teased, and she wrinkled her nose at me.
“Lock the door behind you, and have fun,” she called over her shoulder as she headed to her room, leaving Troy and me alone in the entryway.
Once she was gone, he tightened his grasp on my waist, getting that lusty look in his eyes again. “You’re looking good enough to eat in this dress… you know that, right?”
“I wouldn’t have a single issue with it if you wanted to eat me in this dress, you know that, right?”
Troy groaned a little, moving his hands down to my ass to grip and squeeze. “Consider it a done deal… after dinner, since I got us Honeybee reservations.”
“Sounds like a plan then. Let’s go,” I told him, moving in front of him to open the door. He let out a low whistle in appreciation of the view from the back, then followed me out, waiting for me to lock the door.
Downstairs, I was surprised to find a car waiting for us, and eagerly climbed in with Troy beside me. As the car pulled away from the curb, merging into traffic, Troy reached over, dropping a possessive hand on my knee. I looked over to meet his gaze, only to find him already staring at me like I was lost treasure. Blushing, I glanced away, but covered his hand with mine, and squeezed.
This was already a really good night.
It had been a really long time since someone took me on a date like this. In fact, I couldn’t even remember the last time. Usually, if I had the misfortune of making enough of an impression on someone that they wanted to take me out, I considered it a sign that things were getting too deep, and I killed those dreams with a metaphorical sawed-off shotgun. I didn’t want a quiet, romantic dinner with anybody I wasn’t feeling quiet and romantic about.
I never felt that way about anybody.
Until Troy.
“You know what I have been meaning to ask you for like two weeks or something, and then I always forget,” I spoke, pulling his attention from the Cajun-seasoned chicken on his plate. His eyes came up to me as he chewed, fully alert and interested in what I had to say. “When you cut my hair that day, you rubbed that shaved area down with some kinda butter that smelled really good. But the smell isn’t the thing – I didn’t have to touch that area with another product for like two days, and even then, it was just because it was time to wash it. What brand was that?”
For some reason, that question brought the cockiest, most downright smug grin to his face as he put his fork down and sat back in his chair. “You liked that, huh?”
“Yes, that’s… what I’m saying,” I told him, confused. I picked up my wine glass for a sip as he nodded.
“Good, good. That’s good to hear.”
I frowned. “Okay… so, are you gonna tell me the brand or not?”
“Or not,” he answered, looking super pleased with himself. “Because it’s not… a brand. Not yet. It’s a little custom blend I made, just for my own shit at first. Now, it’s at every station in the shop.”
My eyes bugged out. “Are you… you’re serious? You made that? How? What’s in it?”
“Nobody gets my secret formula mama, not even your pretty ass,” he chuckled. “I can pass you a couple of jars though. There’s a cleanser, conditioner, and liquid moisturizer too.”
“No wonder you’re always looking so… lush,” I said, making him grin harder. “So you like, have formulations for everything? Mix it up in your kitchen, put a label on it? What’s your brand name?”
He held up his hands. “Whoa, pump your brakes. I haven’t made it there yet. I had to do ingredient labels, since we use it in the shop, for allergy reasons. I don’t have a name yet though. But I’m thinking about it.”
“Good, because I think it is incredibly cool. I never would’ve even imagined that. How did I not already know that?”
Troy’s eyebrows went up. “I’m sure there’s plenty I don’t know about you, just like there’s plenty you don’t know about me. Not like we’ve known each other for years.”
“Well sure, but I could’ve been testing products for you or something.”
He scoffed, letting the sound build into a laugh. “Ask a black woman to try some experimental shit on her hair? You must think I’m crazy!”
“No,” I giggled. “I try new products on my hair all the time, especially when I’m trying to find something that consistently just works. If you’re using it in the shop, that means most of your current base is men, which is fine, but I’m telling you – we will spend money when it comes to our hair, if a product is good. And that butter is good.”
“I appreciate that feedback, a lot. You volunteering to try some stuff out though?”
I shrugged. “Why not? I’m excited about the prospect, actually. You get yourself a name and a logo together and I can shoot some product shots for you, you can get Astrid to build out your website and sell online. You can probably get Bundles&Coils to carry your products in their natural section, and – wait, am I doing too much right now?” I asked, noticing that his jaw had dropped a little, and he was staring at me with this expression I couldn’t read.
“No,” he shook his head, as his lips curved into a smile. “Not at all.”
I cringed. “You sure? Cause you’re looking at me like you’re…”
“Pleasantly surprised that you’re this interested in something I’ve been dragging my feet about? Like your excitement makes me want to get my shit together? Like my mind is blown over how you, in two minutes, thought about this more broadly than I ever had? Like I’m feeling pretty damn inspired right now?”
“Oh,” I said, taking a hearty sip of my wine. “I was gonna say “like I’m overstepping and acting like a crazy person”, but your stuff works too. Let's go with yours.”
He laughed. “Seriously though, your interest means a lot. Usually when I talk about this with people, you can kinda see their eyes glaze over cause they’re not really trying to hear it.”
“People get like that with me and my photography too. You have no idea how happy it makes me when you indulge my rants about composition and field of view. And you at least pretend to pay attention during our little “lessons”.”
“It’s not a front though,” he shook his head. “I think you’re dope at what you do, and I want to learn more. I want to be able to take my own product shots, shit like that, you know?”
I nodded. “I do, and that is definitely something we can do. Something I’d love to do with you. You have a vision in mind?”
“Yes and no. I really like the vibe of the shots from the barbershop.”
Ah!
That reminded me…
“Speaking of the shots from the barbershop,” I started, feeling nervous as hell even though I was consciously changing the subject. I could have easily just not said anything about the email from his brother – maybe shouldn’t be saying anything at all, knowing just how personal that particular subject was.
Luckily, I was interrupted by the server coming by to check on us. That gave me enough distraction to switch gears, approaching the topic from a different direction.
“So… you decided what you were going to do about the letter yet? Are you going to reach out?”
“Yes, actually,” he nodded. “I decided earlier today, while I was at the shop. Realized there was no point in avoiding what I said I wanted, you know? And, it’s been a minute now, at this point, that he’s known about me. I don’t want to have him thinking I don’t want to meet, because I definitely do. I even finally looked at the page with his name. Marshall.”
I gasped, and immediately knew I’d overplayed it from the look on his face.
“Jules…”
“He emailed me,” I blurted out, words that made Troy sit way forward in his chair.
“What the hell do you mean, he emailed you. How the hell would he know about us?”
“He doesn’t,” I told him, lifting my hands to calm him. “He reached out because of the pictures from the barbershop. I put them on social media, remember? Apparently, people had been tagging him in the pictures, to show him, “hey, this guy looks like you.” I guess once Roots told him he had a brother, he put two and two together, and reached out.”
“And you responded?”
“No! No! I didn’t even see it until today, and I have not said anything back. I wouldn’t, not without talking to you about it. Well… maybe in like another month if you were still tripping I would’ve arranged for me to be there with my camera when he walked into the shop like “surprise muhfuckas!” but that’s not even relevant right now, you know?”
“Jules…”
“You’re not the ugly twin. You’re both extra fine.”
He scowled. “How in the world…”
“He sent his social media information, and I mean… I wasn’t strong enough to not look. I vetted him for you. He looks like a totally normal guy, has a girlfriend and job and everything.”
Troy’s expression softened. “You saw all that?”
“I did. You want me to tell you?” He hesitated for a second, then nodded, only to scowl again when I shook my head, laughing. “Boy, I am not telling you a damn thing. You will find out when you reach out, and then we can talk about it. Because there is plenty to talk about.”
“Yo, you are not right for this,” he chuckled.
“I think I am absolutely right. And I think you shouldn’t look him up before you guys talk. If you already know everything about each other from stalking on social media, what is there to learn in the conversation, you know? I want you to be able to have that experience.”
He nodded. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
“Thank you. And now… you ready to get out of here?”
“Yeah, we can head out.”
We got the server’s attention to pay the check and then headed out. Long, expectant looks permeated the car ride back to my apartment, and by the time we were heading up the stairs, I couldn’t wait anymore.
Troy was apparently on the same low-patience plan, because he responded eagerly to the kiss I pulled him into, pressing my back against the wall beside the door. His hands went to my ass again as he devoured my mouth, his fingers digging through the fabric of my dress, feeling so good that I was ready to hike my legs around his waist and have him pull my panties to the side right there.
“Daaaamn.”
My eyes rolled back, in annoyance instead of pleasure, at the sound of Josiah’s voice, coming up the stairs.
“I see y’all made nice, that’s what’s up,” he said, approaching us like a conversation was about to happen. “This the one you decided was more than just something to do?” he asked. “You about to give him the sugar you wouldn’t let me taste the other night?”
“Josiah!”
“Aiight,” Troy said, running his tongue over his lips before he turned around, getting between me and Josiah, and right in his face. “Do me and you have a problem, bruh?”
“If you back the fuck up off me, nah, we don’t,” Josiah shot back, and I moved around them just in time to see Troy smirk, shaking his head.
“Nah, see… the right answer is yeah. We do have a fucking problem, and the way we’re gonna solve it is that you shut the fuck up when you see me, you shut the fuck up when you see her, and you especially shut the fuck up when you see me and her together. It’s an easy solution, bruh… I suggest you employ it.”
“Man, who the fuck—”
“That’s the wrong question,” Troy interrupted, pushing his hands into his pockets. “The right question is what I’m gonna do if you don’t solve the problem. And the answer is that I’m gonna break your goddamn jaw. Now, let me walk you through that – your jaw is broken, so badly that they’re gonna have to wire your shit shut. You can call the police about that, it’s fine. But that won’t change the fact that your face is fucked up, maybe permanently. You can’t sing your little bullshit songs with your jaw wired shut, and who knows if you’ll ever be the same again anyway? So now your life is all messed up, for six months to a year, maybe even longer, all because you didn’t know to shut the fuck up. So what are we doing here, man?”
Inwardly, I hoped Josiah was going to do as Troy demanded, shut the fuck up, because there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he really would get his jaw broken tonight. I cringed as a vein in the side of Josiah’s head flexed – in contrast, Troy was really calm – making it seem like ego might win over common sense. But then, Josiah shrugged, mumbling “Whatever” under his breath as he turned away. Quickly, I stepped in front of Troy, eyebrows raised, encouraging him to let that one little word slide.
“Come into the apartment please,” I said quietly, tugging at his arms. It was once I touched him that I realized how tense he was – not nearly as relaxed as he looked – but that didn’t stop me from urging him on.
Inside my apartment, I turned to him, nervously chewing on my lip.
“Okay… about what he said… I should probably explain.”
Troy held up a hand, shaking his head. “Let me guess? Salty ex?”
“Basically.”
“That explains enough. I’m knocking him in his head if he says shit else.”
I let out a dry laugh. “Josiah’s looks and singing ability are his only source of income. He won’t be saying anything else. And for the sake of clarity, he wasn’t actually an ex. We were never a couple, and it was years ago.”
“He needs to let the shit go then.”
“I agree,” I told him, raising an eyebrow. “But while we’re on the subject of exes who need to let shit go… you could have given me a little warning about Mia.”
Troy’s eyes went a little wider, and he groaned. “Shit. What did she do?”
“Only completely fuck up the vibe of my shoot with her bullshit.”
“She said something to you?! That was a minute ago, and you didn’t say anything?”
I scoffed. “Of course she didn’t say anything to me directly. Fair warning though? She pulls anything else, I’m hurting her feelings. And possibly her face.”
“Yo, do what you gotta, but listen…” he approached me, wrapping arms around me to pull me against his chest. “I’m tired of talking about them. I’m hungry.”
I pulled my head back, frowning. “I just watched you completely smash that chicken at dinner, not even thirty minutes ago. You can’t possibly be hungry already.”
“Oh but I can.” He dropped his hands, dipping low enough to get under my dress and grab my ass. “Remember the meal you promised before we left?”
“Oh!” I said, grinning as I stepped out of his grasp to untie my dress, letting it fall open to reveal my black lace lingerie underneath. “In that case… why don’t you come on back here to my bed—I mean… the table?”