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After the funeral home had resumed the care of Lattice’s body for the burial, I had to decide my next move. I made eye contact with Borys, my choreography assistant, as we performed the recessional line out of the church. At six feet, two inches and with the clearest gray eyes I’d ever seen, he was on it. Borys, a native of Poland, cut the line with natural dexterity and was on the other side of the recessional train filing behind Lattice’s resting body in a flash. I was on his heels when my time came. We traveled away from the line as I anticipated my escape. I couldn’t go to the burial. There was no time. My time in Jersey—in the country—was only a matter of hours. I had a gazillion things to do before getting back on the plane.
“That was heavy,” Borys turned to me and whispered with a thick accent and big eyes.
“Was this your first American funeral?”
“No!” he quickly and defensively answered.
“But I bet it was your first Black one.” I tried measuring my grin in anticipation of him lying.
But Borys blew out a held breath while swiping through his bleach blond locks. “Yeah. Perhaps.”
I snickered, trying to avoid a full-on laughing fit. He tickled me so. Either way, I had to keep it together; we were just off the vestibule with people all around, in our faces. The place had filled since the start of service.
I tried looking for a side door or something. “Okay. Now, let me figure out how we’re going to get out of here.”
“You ain’t going to the burial?”
My pulse pounded at the sound of his thick, trickling chords. Licking my lips, I turned to find Jas scowling down, hovering over me, invading my personal space similar to Borys. But Jas was different; over the years, my personal space was off-limits to all but two people, him being one of them. It was just Jas’ way.
Swallowing, I answered, “I explained to Noelle how my trip was only for about eight hours. Three went to the ceremony. I have several errands to run before my flight leaves.”
“You’re flying out of Teterboro?”
I wanted to roll my eyes. “You know that.” It was his plane and pilot.
“Last time, it was New York.”
“But they report to you. They all do.” I turned to look for the other tall ass man in the church. “Bob has told you.”
“Ashira, Bob don’t update me with every minute of your life. You’re grown and owed privacy.”
I switched weight on my hips, spearing him with the wickedestdon’t fuck with megaze I could muster. That was bullshit and Jas knew it. Even if he didn’t know my itinerary hour by hour, Jas knew when I moved about the world; he funded much of it. And not just with Bob, my personal security guard. Jas supplied much of my flights and ground transportation, too, in quest of this ‘protection’ he swore I needed.
In all honesty, it took nearly a year, but now I appreciated it. It was expensive as hell to keep a bulky man capable of snapping a human neck in the span of ten seconds with me when I traveled all over the globe. I insisted on covering Bob’s stay while Jas took care of everything else. I could be reasonable. At least I’d been trying. But once in a while, my inner-rebellious spirit wanted to resent his close proximity to me. Jas had been a looming cloud in my life for four years now. It was par for the course; I’d been slowly understanding. Nonetheless, my maturation was slower than my resentment toward him.
I tucked my chin while peering directly into his eyes. “Jas, I have a tight itinerary today, and therefore, I have to leave. No. I will not be attending the burial or repast. I’ve explained this to my sister already. Is this okay with you, grand marshal, sir?” I swung my head to the side.
Immediately, I registered the storm of mixed emotions on his handsome face. Jas didn’t like when I resisted or rejected him in any way. Not that I had the opportunity to do it often. He’d allowed me my corner of the world without his looming for the most part. Over the past three years, the dance he and I performed was intricate and beautiful to everyone outside. But for the two of us, we were a representation of failed possibilities.
Instead of participating in my antagonizing energy, Jas shook his head, then tossed his glance toward Borys, then Bob. He then flung his chin. “There’s a door to the parking lot down the hall to the left.”
The men led the way, and when I started after them, a thought struck, and I spun on my heel. Jas was on his way to the vestibule when I caught up to him, gently pulling at the crux of his arm. He turned to find my long reach of him.
A million things ran through my warring mind when his eyes roved from where we met at his arm to my face. “It’s good seeing you,” I offered pathetically soft.
There was an immeasurable minefield of emotions beneath the sea between us created mostly by me and my need to not to be swept away by his enigma almost four years ago. It had been three years of emotional management and distancing that had become increasingly exhausting. All those things holding true, Jas was an energy unlike any I’d ever encountered. Whether I liked it or not, I’d be staring into these eyes of bottomless passion for the unforeseen future.
Per usual, words failed us both, but our gazes held strong with endless communication until I remembered who he was and what he represented to my tortured heart.
I released his arm, realizing his reply had been too delayed. Lifting my chin and then pulling it back, I cleared my throat and repeated from my chest, “I just wanted to say it’s…good seeing you today.”
It wasmysister’s loss we were supporting, after all.
His searing gaze impenitently stripped me bare. Jas was peering through the black designer garb cloaking my body, the freshly pressed-out tresses draping my shoulders, the meticulous natural beat of my face, and the resistance-veneer of my poker face. The man was calculating and invoked a better mask than I ever could. But I couldn’t leave him without pleasantries. It would be immature and wholly unfair to our steady partnership.
I waited until he croaked, “That’s what’s up.”
That was it. Those three words were all Ojasvi Lamont had for me in the moment.
