Page 53 of Double

“Okay,” she repeated.

“We’re gonna have you plan an event. We want to see your style and how you work. It will also give you a chance to have a . . . dry run before you take the reins of a multimillion-dollar foundation. Lynne is thinking a sneaker ball—for Halloween. We don’t usually do anything for Halloween, so this’ll be a first. Lynne plans to have an official meeting with you where she’ll discuss all of the particulars of the position. She wanted me to talk to you first and make sure you’re even interested.”

“I’m interested.”

My grandfather smiled. “Good. Good. Okay, expect to hear from Lynne.” He turned his attention to me. “Grandson, I hope you’re practicing with the forks, bro. Don’t get to this event and embarrass me.”

I chuckled. “I won’t.” My eyes darted over to Tinsley. She’d been working with me on brushing up. The problem was that she would usually pick up the proper fork and feed me a bite of food with it. That, of course, would lead to us kissing, which led to us fucking, and really, nothing much would get accomplished. “She taught me the golden rule, . . . always work from the outside in. I won’t embarrass you, old man.”

“Fuck you, young buck.” He turned to my wife. “Forgive my indelicate language, granddaughter.”

“You’re forgiven.”

19

ALittle Taste of Home

Tinsley

The second Friday in April, Double made us leave the office early and head back to the house.

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going so I know what to wear?” I asked as the two of us walked into the bedroom we now shared. Once Double and I had sex, he refused to sleep without me right next to him. Not more than two days later, I moved my body and the majority of my belongings into his bedroom. I still kept a few things in the guest bedroom, and he harassed me every day to move everything out of there.

“Lyric met me over here while you were with my mother and grandmother, and she dropped off some pieces for you to choose from. They’re in the guest bedroom.”

Since Big Hill had told me about the opportunity to be the foundation’s in-house event designer, I had been spending a lot of time with Lynne and Mama Passion. We’d been going through pictures and videos of past events so I could get a feeling of the foundation’s aesthetic.

He walked into the kitchen while I went to see what Lyric had left for me. Four clothing racks had been rolled into the bedroom. Each one held a complete outfit—accessories and shoes included. I moved from rack to rack, not really sure what to make of the outfits. They were all more risqué than I typically ever dressed.

“Double!” I called out. “Double!”

“What up?”

“Have you seen the outfits your cousin left?”

“Nah, why?” His voice sounded close, and soon, he appeared in the doorway.

“Where are we going that you want me to dress so . . . I don’t know, provocatively?”

He chuckled. “Let me see.” He joined me by the first rolling clothes rack. He touched the fabric of the tattered jeans before moving to the other three racks. He nodded appreciatively. “Lyric always understands the assignment.”

“So you do want me to be naked?”

“Quit trippin’. I’m never lettin’ you leave the house naked, but I will let you leave looking sexy as hell. Choose an outfit, Sweetheart. There is a schedule, and you still have to shower, get dressed, and do your hair. Move it.” He slapped me on the ass, and I squealed.

“Okay. Okay,” I agreed. I perused each of the clothing racks one last time before making my final decision on which of the four outfits I would wear.

Double left the room while I prepared for my shower. While I preferred the luxury of the primary bathroom, for the sake of time, I stripped down and hopped in the shower in the guest bathroom. After washing myself twice, I rinsed for a final time, stepped out, and toweled off. Finding an almost empty bottle of my favorite body oil made me glad that I’d opted to leave a few of my things in the guest bedroom.

I moisturized, put on deodorant, and then slid into my underwear. I looked at the outfit I’d decided on—tiny denim shorts; a matching denim bustier; and a sheer, light-blue, floor-length duster with a denim collar, denim at the cuffs, denim piping on both plackets, and a denim belt at the waist. It was cute but revealing. I was never a “revealing clothing” girly. Apparently, though, my man wanted to see some skin, so I would show him some skin.

When I was finally dressed, I began the walk across the house from the guest bedroom to the primary bedroom. Double happened to already be standing in the living room, which shortened my walk.

“Well, damn!” he said appreciatively when he spotted me. “Damn. We might not make it out the house with you lookin’ like this. Got all my damn thigh meat on display. You didn’t like the jeans?”

I had to laugh. “The jeans were fine, but I felt like this”— I gestured up and down myself —“made a statement.”

“It does. It says that my wife is trying to get bent over in the living room before we leave out.”