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The first part of brunch was spent getting to know the Gordons. Jace ate little sandwiches cut into triangles and those tiny pie things with eggs and spinach inside while the parents asked all kinds of questions under the guise of being welcoming. They waited until the food was gone to get to the real reason for the affair.
They wanted Bobby Gordon. Desperately. The high school had crossed over from majority white to majority black, and the band program was in dire need of some new blood, a real professional who had experience with show bands. Stockton High was still marching corps-style, and while it has its own merits, black folks don’t tend to find feet-rolling and color guards entertaining. Dr. Gordon had retired from directing the Mighty Marching Titans at Benjamin Mays College just two years prior and was happy and settled at home. He had no desire to get back into the band world. That’s what he toldthem, at least.
Jace knew better.
They laid it on thick, and Jace felt that old familiar feeling, the displacement, the inkling that they were more interested in his father than they were in him. Bobby, on the other hand, ate up the attention like a starving man at a buffet.
The Twelve was a secondary concern, an offer made to sweeten the pot. With his low B grade point average, Jace wasn’t even qualified for the group, but they didn’t care. They wanted his father. Bad.
After a few weeks of wooing, Bobby agreed to meet with the school administrators, and then the school board demanded his attention. By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, Bobby had successfully negotiated a four-year contract, the likes of which the county had never seen before. Jace didn't know the exact dollar figure, but the happy whispered conversations in the Gordon kitchen told him the district had been very good to Bobby.
Now it was the beginning of year four, and the Marching Panthers of Stockton High School were considered the best band in the south. Money well spent, as far as the school board was concerned. They were currently trying to get Dr. Gordon to extend his contract for another four years.
Jace knew he would accept, but Bobby liked to play the game. He enjoyed nothing more than being the object of everyone’s affection. That’s probably why he was on his third marriage. They all got sick of him after a while, and he couldn’t handle that. He had to be number one. His wives had to adore him. His children had to adore him. And there were so many. Children, that is. Jace didn’t even know them all, and every year or so, there seemed to be another.
Yolanda Gordon, his mother, finally left after the second side baby was born. She took Jace with her and moved to an apartment a few miles away, but once he hit sophomore year, she’d had enough. “I can’t raise no man by myself,” she’d said when she deposited him on Bobby’s front porch. She promised Jace she loved him and would always be part of his life, but in the time since, he’d only seen her on the major holidays and on his seventeenth birthday.
Was he the easiest kid in the world to deal with? Even he knew the answer to that question was an emphatic no. But what kind of mother gives up her son without a fight?
Bobby remarried quickly, because that’s what men do when they aren’t used to taking care of themselves. But Jace didn’t care much for the new Mrs. Gordon. Debra was nice enough, but there was no love there, and they both knew it. He needed his mother.
That was the thing Nyleah and Jace shared. They discovered that fact after a Twelve meeting. Her father had gone off and left her behind just as his mother had done to him. Nobody else understood, and that was what bonded them. But it was a bond forged through brokenness, so it was a tenuous connection, to be sure. And when Jace developed a crush on her, she pulled back and broke that bond.
He never truly thought he had a chance with her, not really. After all, he was thin and lanky and had been called “lame” and “weird” on several occasions by kids outside of the band. But Nyleah never shot him down. She just distanced herself. He got the message loud and clear and that was the end of that.
Until the party.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ladonnapulledintothegarage and parked the beautiful silver BMW they really couldn’t afford in its designated space. She had fought Marcus the whole way through that process, but he had insisted. Only the best for his wife.
That’s a good thing. It’s supposed to be, at least. Ladonna had complaints that she never dared verbalize because, really, there was nobody to complain to. Her mother would talk about how hard she’d had it raising three kids on her own. Her sister would laugh and call her spoiled. And her mother-in-law—well, Ladonna would sooner die than let that woman think she was unhappy with her beloved son.
The Lanes had the perfect life, but only if you didn’t look at their bank accounts.
Marcus was a good man. A hardworking man. An excellent provider. But he had no ceiling.
Several years ago, Ladonna’s best friend from high school, Adrienne, had flown into town with her husband Wesley. Ladonna and Marcus met them for dinner, and Ladonna complimented Adrienne on her Louboutins. Later that night when they got home, Marcus asked Ladonna what Wesley did for a living. He seemed particularly bothered. So bothered, he looked the man up on LinkedIn. Unfortunately for him, there are a million Wesley Smiths. Black ones, too.
After a long interrogation, Ladonna finally got to the heart of it: Marcus needed to know how Wesley could afford red bottoms for his wife. He felt a way about being unable to keep his own wife in luxury items. Ladonna smoothed it over and thought the matter was settled and forgotten until she arrived home a few nights later to a little tan box with white cursive writing. She put on her happiest face and modeled the new shoes for him, naked of course, but internally, she was concerned. They didn’t have the money.
But here’s the thing: you can’t complain about your husband spoiling you. You have to be grateful. And so Ladonna allowed him to aggressively pamper her, because she wasn’t brave enough to stop him. Their oldest girl, Carmen, was in college, and Bria was on her way. At the rate the Lanes were going, they wouldn’t get out of the hole until they were close to retirement, if they could retire at all.
She sat in the car listening to Sade, allowing the smooth melody to wash over her and cleanse her spirit. It had been a long time since she actually sat and relaxed. There was always something to think about, something to ruminate on, an unpleasant thought or memory poised to intrude. It was almost unbearable at times. Nevertheless, she had to keep moving. Right now, there was a meal that had to be prepared, and so she turned her car off and glanced over at Marcus’ empty spot, grateful to have beaten him home.
“Smellsgoodinhere.Whatchu making?” Marcus kissed her cheek with soft, full lips, and Ladonna smiled at the show of affection. He tried his best, bless his heart, but the fact that he had totryto be affectionate still bothered her. Even after all this time. Nineteen years in, you’re supposed to have already accepted the things you can’t change.
“I’m making salmon and mashed potatoes. Probably some steamed broccoli. Or would you rather have green beans?”
He sighed and took a seat at the breakfast bar. Ladonna looked up and frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Where’s Bria?” he asked.
“Practice.”
“Oh, right." He brought his hands to his head, using his fingers to massage his temples.
"When’s the next parent meeting?”
