Page 9 of The Brooklyn Way
I quickly dropped Vince’s hand and turned my gaze to my grandmother.
“Big Red.” I admonished her with a slight frown. I mean, I didn’t like Vince’s ass, but my grandmother had basically prayed for doom and destruction to fall over his life. Then she asked God to let me bear witness to the man’s demise.
“I said, amen.” Her tone was serious as she finally released Vince’s hand.
“This is why people be suspicious of Christians… and of people praying over them,” I whispered in her ear.
She shrugged me off her. “Like Katt Williams said, if you wanted me to speak more highly of you, then perhaps you should have treated me better.”
“What do you know about Katt Williams?”
She walked away from me, headed toward the front door.
Vince met her there and pulled her into a second hug. “Thank you, Mrs. Waverly.”
I shook my head, as a specific bible verse popped into my head. First Corinthians 1:27 - God has chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise.
This dude was a doctor and book smart as hell. There was no reason he should’ve been thanking her for praying a prayer of devastation over his life.
“Dumb ass.” Only my lips moved, though. I made sure no sound came out.
The drive from my former apartment to my new locale took about eleven hours. We did it in two days, stopping late into the night at a roadside hotel before finishing the trek the next day. Once my cousins had unloaded the U-Haul at Carrington’s former residence and helped me get the furniture placed—after my grandmother had filled my refrigerator with groceries and my wallet with some ‘just-in-case money’—I drove them all to the airport. I bid them safe travels as they headed back to Kentucky, then headed to the guest house that I would call home.
When I arrived back at the guest house, I took the time to look around and really take in the space. The home offered roughly fifteen hundred square feet of living space, situated on one level. It sat on the property belonging to one Cameron Field, the twin brother of my friend and former roommate, Carrington.
While Carrington had inherited her father’s love of eye care, following in his footsteps and pursuing a career as an optometrist, her twin had decided to pursue a career in professional sports. He was the starting shooting guard for The Chicago Bison, the current NBA champions. Cameron was tall, gorgeous, and clearly benevolent. He was letting me live rent-free in his guest house just based on the strength of my relationship with his sister.
Cameron and I weren’t cool. Despite the fact that I had roomed in the dorms with Carrington, going on to share an apartment with her, I hadn’t met him many times. Carrington was funny acting about Cameron. She felt like people changed when they found out her brother was a successful college athlete. She felt like people made a big deal over him and that made both of them uncomfortable. She didn’t invite him to visit Hale-Williams University’s campus very often. She preferred to visit him at Booker University, where people were used to him and were much less prone to acting weird. She would go there often to watch him play or just hang out with him. The few times Cameron had come to Hale-Williams, she introduced us. He’d been amiable and pleasant, but I never really felt like he had… considered me. Really noticed me. As far as I was concerned, I could walk up to Cameron Field anywhere in the world, and he would probably greet me like a complete stranger. I felt almost certain that he never really noticed me enough to recognize me outside of the context of being Carrington’s roommate.
For my part, I was smitten with Cameron. What was there not to be smitten with? Cameron’s tall frame had been dunked in the most luscious looking caramel coating. The man didn’t miss not one day at the gym, as was evidenced by the buff, lickable-ness of his defined muscles. His piercing dark eyes, rounded nose, full mouth, and perfectly edged-up beard situation made him super desirable to me. And the tatted sleeve on his right arm gave him just the right amount of edge to make me constantly cyber stalk his social media and pour over pictures of him.
I put all thoughts about Cameron behind me and moved through the space. Because the guest house opened out onto the pool, there wasn’t a traditional front door. Instead, there was a wall of glass doors that folded into one another to allow for indoor-outdoor access. The guest house featured an open floorplan, with the living room, dining space, and kitchen being visible from the pool and the pool deck. Around the corner from the living room was a powder room with a stackable washer and dryer. It was convenient for wet towels and dripping swimsuits brought in from the pool area. Just past the powder room was a large bedroom that offered an upscale en suite with a deep soaking tub, an oversized shower, heated floors, and an extra-large towel warmer.
The house was light and bright, with creamy white walls and light oak wood trim. The place came fully furnished, which was a blessing. My furniture would have been completely out of place in the space. Living with a man, I thought I needed to decorate in a way that incorporated his style and taste to create a harmonious home. The only issue was that I didn’t enjoy Vince’s style, which ran the gamut of whatever caught his eye at any given moment. There was no rhyme or reason as to how we’d decorated our apartment. It was just a mishmash of things that when I looked at them with new eyes, were ugly. The plaid sofa I’d insisted on bringing with me looked worn and dated. My dining table’s wood looked orange. The artwork that I picked up from big box stores and smaller stores alike would have seriously cheapened the upscale atmosphere that had been built into the guest house. I was so glad that I left those things at the storage facility. After looking at the style and quality of the guest house’s furniture, I knew the next move for my own furniture would be to the dump.
Six Weeks Later
Carrington promised that if I moved to her hometown, she would make sure I had a community. She told no lies. From the day I relocated to the island, she had included me in all her social activities. This particular morning, I was whisked off to Sunday service with Carrington, her fiancé, her cousin, a family friend, and her parents at Sacred Anointing Covenant Church. After service, the seven of us went to brunch.
“Brooklyn.” Madeline Field spoke my name the second we had given our orders to the friendly waitress.
I looked up from where I had been arranging my silverware on the table. I wasn’t generally a shy person, but like most people, I had the tendency to be quiet when I was around people I didn’t know well. I knew Mr. and Mrs. Field somewhat well, from my time rooming with Carrington. Though we weren’t close, I liked them both. “Yes, ma’am?”
“I want you to meet our niece, Nyrah.” Mrs. Field made the introduction.
“This is my favorite cousin.” Carrington bumped the shoulder of the young lady sitting between us.
I grinned. “Hello.”
She returned the gesture. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said. Her voice was soft and buttery—her southern accent warm and sweet.
“It’s nice to meet you as well.”
“And this,” Mrs. Field rested her hand on the forearm of the woman who sat beside her, wearing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “is Tiara Smith. Her father and Mr. Field are friends and fraternity brothers.”
“And don’t forget that I was almost your daughter-in-law,” the young lady reminded her in a playful tone.
Mr. Field chuckled. “You’re right, Tiara. There was most definitely a time that we thought you and Cameron would transition from high school sweethearts into newlyweds.”