And definitely too old for me. But if I was in the market for a zaddy, I’d choose him in a heartbeat.
Still, I manage a polite smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s mine,” he says with a deep, velvety voice that could double as a 90’s R&B tune. He offers his hand, and when I shake it, his grip feels like a man who’s seen things. Handled things. Probably owns a hundred bespoke suits and calls women, “Love,” in casual conversation.
Mmm. Mmm. Mmm!Marvin Gaye,fine. You hear me?
“I’m just making sure Ms. Lilly’s discharge goes smoothly,” I say, mostly to keep from blushing.
“Well, I appreciate that,” he replies. “She’s not the easiest to wrangle.”
Ms. Lilly waves him off. “Hush, boy. I’m a delight.”
I laugh and bend down to hug her. “You better promise to take it easy at home.”
“Only if you promise to come see about me from time to time,” she says, gripping my hand.
“I promise,” I say sincerely.
“Just to make sure, why don’t you give me your number?”
I pause, genuinely impressed as she presses a few buttons on her phone. “Wait— you know how to work a smartphone?”
She gives me a look like I’ve just questioned her ability to breathe. “Baby, I know how to work everything,” she says, tapping her iPhone to mine with the confidence of a Gen Z techie. Within seconds, her contact card appears on my screen. “Now I got your number too, so don’t go ghosting me. I may be pushing eighty, but I’ll still pull up.”
I laugh. “Deal.”
She narrows her eyes playfully, a mischievous glint in her gaze. “Now... about this Vegas trip.”
I groan, leaning back against the counter. “Don’t start with me again, Ms. Lilly!”
Since she’s one of my only real outlets these days, I’d made the mistake of mentioning the Vegas trip, and she has joined the chorus of people harassing me to actually go. The truth is, I’m practically being forced into it. Tatum managed to secure a massive “investment” for my dream project—a mobile health clinic—by playing hardball with Kevin Spencer.
Spencer is an outspoken, fire-and-brimstone conservative with a ‘Great American Football’ type of following, but Tatum’s private investigator caught him at a high-end sex club enjoying a very busy night with both men and women. Faced with the photos, he suddenly found the generosity to donate a staggering, no-strings-attached sum to my venture. The catch? I have to go on this trip with them to Vegas.
Still, my mother’s voice rings in my head, warning me that nothing good ever comes from a city whose middle name is Sin. Between Tatum’s blackmail schemes and my mother’s prophecies and premonitions, I’m caught in the middle—and Ms. Lilly is dying for some behind-the-scenes footage.
“I will say whatever I’ve got to say until I know you’re on that plane and headed out of town for some first-class debauchery. And you better bring back every juicy detail. I want stories so good they make my blood pressure spike, okay?”
“Okay, okay. I promise.”
Her voice gets quieter like she’s passing on something sacred. “Life is short, baby girl. Time slips right through your fingers when you’re not looking. Life won’t hand you the joy you want. You’ve got to take it. Every last drop.”
I nod.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes, Ma'am. I do.”
I notice movement from the corner of my eye as Eros steps back, phone pressed to his ear, his expression shifting.
“Yeah… okay, I’ll be there soon,” he says, then lowers the device and turns to Ms. Lilly. “Aunt Lil, That was Rileigh,”
He turns to look at me, shrugging. “My ex-wife.”
I nod as he turns back to talk to Ms. Lilly.
“Manny’s gotten into trouble at school again and I need to go pick him up as soon as I drop you off.”
