Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
“I have a date.” She fiddles with an earring shaped like a fan and doesn’t quite meet my eyes.
Fiddling? Mona?
“Have I met this guy? What are his intentions toward you?” I ask, only half-joking. I do feel like her protective big brother, even though we’re the same age. She hasn’t dated much since her divorce and I don’t want to see her get hurt.
“You haven’t met him, and that dumb second question is why.”
“Seriously, where’d you meet him, Mo? Tinder? Bumble? Show me his profile.”
“Church,” she says, lifting her chin and looking at me pointedly. “He’s a deacon at my mama’s church. No jokes, please, about my weed or my wine or my vibrators or how I’m not—”
“No jokes. I haven’t even met him and I already know he’s not good enough for you.”
Her eyes widen and then soften. “Awww. Thanks, boss.”
“Besides I’ll be living vicariously through you.” I look at the mess on my desk and Mai in the crook of my arm. “It’s gonna be a rough night. This is the longest she’s slept in days. I don’t expect it to last. Every time I try to put her down, she wakes up, and I need to finish my part on these grants before the book drops next week and the tour starts.”
“Look, I can cancel this. Jamal and I can go out any time.”
“Jamal, is it?”
She rolls her eyes and her lips twitch. “I’m serious. I’ll text him.”
“No way. School’s finally out and you’ve been carrying a lot of extra load for me lately. Go. Have fun. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“I know it’s a lot,” she says. “But bright side is school’s out and, as much as I know you’ll hate leaving Mai with Aiko alone, it will be good to have some time to yourself out on tour. These last few months have been brutal.”
New baby. Finishing the school year. Preparation for the book release.
Missing Kimba. All the time. Every minute of every day.
“Speaking of school being out,” Mona says, pulling out her phone, “I have something that might make you laugh.”
“A laugh I could use.” I consider the laptop in front of me and the color-coded spreadsheet. “Before I dive into this.”
She walks around and lays her phone on the desk so I can see. “Keep the volume low so we don’t wake Mai,” she says, already grinning. “You’re gonna love this.”
It’s a video on Instagram of our step team’s latest choreography in YLA’s courtyard.
“Does that say a hundred thousand views?” I look from her phone to Mona’s smiling face.
“We’ve gone viral, Jack. Soon Ellen might want us. Wouldn’t that be perfect timing with your book coming out?”
“I’m so proud of them.” I shake my head. “They keep amazing me.”
“Right?” She presses the home button on her Instagram app, and I do a double take at the post that comes up.
“Oh, shit,” she mutters, biting her bottom lip.
It’s Kimba with some guy. Some tall, Idris Elba lookalike. He’s probably around my height, but bulkier. His hand is at her waist, and she’s laughing up at him. Her hair is pressed straight and spills around her shoulders, bare in a formal strapless dress.
We haven’t talked much since she called from Alabama. The occasional text, a phone call at Christmas. Usually initiated by her. This is her plan. Her terms, and I’m trying my best to respect what she says she needs. I know there was a part of her afraid my feelings would change, deepen for Aiko as we went through the pregnancy. She couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything, over the last few months, Aiko and I remembered why we were friends in the first place. I get why Kimba wanted to wait. Our situation was complicated and difficult and unstable, but I’ve gotten through it counting on our promise that there wouldn’t be anyone else.
Who is this good-looking motherfucker?
“What the hell?” I grit out, grabbing Mona’s phone from my desk.
“That’s nothing,” Mona says hastily, trying to get the phone back from me. I stand and walk Mai and me out of her reach. “Ezra, don’t overreact.”
“You’ve seen this?” I tear my eyes from the screen, from Kimba’s bright smile to Mona’s guilty expression.
“It’s not a big deal.”
Reading The Shade Room’s post, it seems like I’m not the only one who thinks it might be.
Be still our woke hearts! Kimba Allen, political badass, and Israel Hammond, professor, activist, author and thirst bucket-worthy, out together for a night on the town? We full-time stan for this hook-up.
I’ve heard of Israel Hammond, but have always seen him as a…thinker. Not this burly man. And I’ve never thought of him with Kimba.
“Is this real?” I ask Mona, shooting her a sharp look. “Kimba said…”
She said she didn’t want anyone else, but that was nearly a year ago. She’s probably tired of waiting—not that I asked her to. I assumed this was as difficult, as lonely for her, as it is for me.