Page 72 of Serenity
“I’d be daft not to agree,” I returned, sipping my drink. “It’s been…fun.”
Supreme chuckled.
“You know, if you were anyone else, I’d be offended by that fun response. I’d ask about wedding bells and shit, but I already know my sister ain’t on that type of time.”
“Nigga, I said it’s fun because it has been since we’ve traveled together. Not to be disrespectful. What the fuck you doing here anyway, man?”
“Helping to drive up the numbers.”
“Isn’t that cheating?” I asked.
“Nope. Not if motherfuckers are paying to play.”
“Heard. Does Bee—Serenity know you’re here?”
“Nope. She doesn’t need to either.”
“Then you best vamoose, nigga,” I warned as Serenity headed in our direction.
As Vorhees trudged away, I watched the women take the stage. The lights were lowered in favor of the attention being placed on the stage. Serenity returned to my side, grabbing my hand and resting her head against my arm.
“I’m tired, baby.”
“I’ll rub you down once all this is over,” I promised.
“That sounds so good right now.”
“My place or yours tonight?” I asked.
“Doesn’t matter. Maybe yours. I don’t think I’ll feel like driving after this.”
The auction began, and as promised, Jason Vorhees drove the bids up for a night out with a beautiful woman. Gray Harrison carried one woman dressed as Velma off the stage. The antics continued with a ruckus as Betty Boop swayed onto the stage.
“That’s her. Luna. My brother’s ex.”
“I see.”
Serenity and I watched as the auction continued. By the end of the evening, she’d raised well over two hundred thousand dollars. The estimated amount didn’t include direct sales from the gallery art or my contribution.
“I’m proud of you, baby,” I praised her. “You did good.”
“Don’t gas me up,” she tittered, throwing her arms around me.
“If not me, then who?” I asked as Sincere approached from behind.
“Serenity.”
As he drew near, Serenity’s demeanor shifted. Hastily, she dropped her arms and stepped away from me as she addressed her brother. Introduction be damned. I was ignored. It was almost as if she was understating my insignificance in her world.
Sincere’s eyes darted in my direction. He scowled and thumbed his nose. That nigga knew who I was. An introduction wasn’t required, but it would have been nice for her to let the nigga know who I was to her. Rooted in silence, I willed Bee to locate the confident woman I knew her to be. Willed her heart to shift. Willed her lips to part and tell Sincere we were dating. They didn’t. A near-tangible discomfort persisted, dissolving what I thought was a bulletproof mood.
She held an entire conversation with her brother and his ex as she, too, approached. Not once did she bother to acknowledge my existence. Peculiar, it was, knowing I’d obtained the stamp of approval from Ramsay and Supreme, yet here she was hiding.
Hiding us.
The sense of omission—of exclusion refused to settle in my bones. I heard their indistinct chatter, heard the blithe chatter around us. Alcohol and laughter. Despite the setting, the unshakeable sense that it was raining loomed. In my head, clouds had moved in, threatening to storm. I hadn’t felt like this in years. Not since… Mya.
To be fair, Bee hadn’t issued a fraction of the pain Mya had, but the semblance she’d left me feeling was distressing. Enough to motivate me to exit stage left.