Love blinked. “Wait, you mean today?”
“Yeah. Flight’s in two hours. Just a quick there-and-back. One hour there, hour and a half tops.” He scanned the room. “Everybody cool?”
The cast nodded, most were hyped up. A few actors fist-bumped. Tara shot Love a knowing glance. Love maintained a straight face, but on the inside, her stomach bubbled with anticipation and anxiety. Going back to a place where she once felt joy and teenage love was one thing, but doing it with the estranged ex-lover you once knew and cherished was another.
Zay shifted behind the sound tech table and rubbed the back of his neck.
“We gotta go all the way to Detroit for that?” he asked out loud, more to himself than to Malcolm.
“It’s part of the process,” Malcolm answered regardless, eyeing him. “You ain’t scared of a little homecoming, are you?”
Love glanced at Zay, also anticipating his answer. He smirked, but she caught some tension behind it. “Nah, just ain’t been back in a while is all.”
Love didn’t say anything. She looked down at her hands and fiddled with her fingernails. Malcolm glanced between the two of them, then chuckled.
“You two the only ones acting like it’s a funeral.”
“I’m not acting like anything,” Love replied, her head still down.
Malcolm held up both hands. “Okay, okay. It’s just one stop. Y’all’ll be back before dinner. I promise.”
Love slipped on her denim jacket and gathered the scripts from the table in front of her and slipped them in her tote. She handed the tote to Tara, placed sunglasses on her face, and followed the rest of the cast out of the room. Zay stood from his seat, eyeing Love as she walked out the door, and trailed behind the rest of the cast.
The crew walked out of the studio into the mid-morning sun while conversations and last-minute phone calls filled the air. Two black sprinter vans lined the curb with the engines running. They all piled in—Love in the first van and Zay in the second—and settled into their seats. Laughter bounced between them from the moment they pulled away from the curb, until they arrived at the private terminal of the airport.
The private jet hummed low as it sat awaiting their arrival. The entire cast and crew boarded. When Love stepped in, she was instantly taken aback by the luxury and beauty of it all. Inside was polished and sleek, neutral tones that whispered quiet wealth. Gold accented trays folded down, and it smelled like Jo Malone poured through the air vents. The leather seats had champagne flutes in every cup holder. Deuce playfully pushed his way to the back row, joking the whole way like it was his stand-up hour.
“I ain’t gon’ lie,” he said, leaning into his phone like he was livestreaming. “This jet smell like light-skinned privilege.”
Laughter erupted.
Deuce grinned and buckled himself into the seat. “Yo, I’m serious. It smell like the lobby of a divorce lawyer who only represents NBA stars. I’m scared to touch anything. If I breathe wrong, this seat might charge me.”
“Boy, shut up!” One of the stylists hollered and threw a napkin at him.
Deuce caught it midair and pretended to wipe fake tears.
Zay slid into a window seat in front of Deuce, and Kam plopped down beside him. Deuce continued to joke with the crew, but the sounds were muffled as Zay’s thoughts took over his mind.
“You good?” Kam asked, voice low.
Zay nodded. “Yeah. Just . . . I ain’t been back to the D in a minute.”
Kam smirked and pulled a protein bar out of his hoodie. “That, or you worried about running into old ghosts?”
He didn’t answer.
“I mean, it’s been what? Over a decade?” Kam went on, pausing between bites. “Besides, the only ghost from Detroit you worried about is already sitting on this plane.”
“Man, shut up,” Zay muttered. He sat stiff.
Kam caught his body language, smirked and then nudged him. “You still ain’t read the book, huh?”
“Nah,” he replied, puzzled. “Was gonna get around to it. Why?”
“Because everybody say it read like an autobiography. Real specific. Like it’s about somebody she used to love.”
Zay’s jaw tightened. “I ain’t pressed.”
