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My eyes were trained in the direction of the stage, but they weren’t focused there when I felt his hand cover mine on my lap. I didn’t resist his touch. On the contrary, I let it and the song transport me into the past.
CHAPTER18
BROOKLYN
TWELVE YEARS EARLIER—ROMEY U-AFTER THE HOMECOMING GAME…
Iwas so damn tired…and wired.
We’d marched in the parade, performed throughout the homecoming game including a grueling halftime show, and then we put on a crazy fifth quarter show in the stands. The day was electrifying and totally exhausting, so when I stepped out of the band room, I knew I was going to need a nap before I found a party to hit because I was going to party.
Traditionally, there were lots of festivities on homecoming night—parties, dances, concerts for the alumni and the students. That year, the alumni performer was the one and only Anita Baker. For us youngins, they’d brought in Flo Rida, who I wasn’t particularly interested in seeing, not that I could afford a ticket anyway. The Romettes sucked up all the money I made working two evenings a week at the campus burger place, from costumes to our required matching hairstyles. Hence, my party plans.
I exited Wonder in a t-shirt and sweatpants, my braids up in a ponytail, relief rushing over me when I saw only one man waiting for me—Vann. Jamaal, I was sure, was off getting ready to hit the parties, too, and as much as I liked him, I didn’t want to waste a minute of being with my best friend’s brother since time with him was so fleeting.
“Hey,” he crooned, greeting me with the nicest smile, a smile that reached his beautiful eyes. “You looked good out there.”
My eyes widened. “You came to the game? Like,insidethe stadium?”
Vann was a tailgate hopper, one of the folks who stayed on the parking lot during the game moving from tailgater to tailgater, socializing and eating. He was a big man, and I liked it, so if it took tailgate hopping for him to maintain his physique, so be it.
Chuckling, he said, “I wasn’t going to miss seeing you perform in the stands and on the field.”
“Where were you sitting?” I asked.
“Pretty close to you, actually.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You got plans tonight?”
“Not really. I was just gonna find a party to hit. Why? You got plans for me or something?”
He grinned. “Yep. I’ma show you how us old folks do homecoming.”
I laughed. “Okay, so what do I need to wear to roll with the old folks, Mr. London?”
“Whatever you want.”
I thought for a minute. “Okay, I need to run by my room and then I need a nap. After that, feel free to take me to the nursing home of your choice.”
He threw his head back and laughed.
VANN
I took her to The Lowdown Tavern, a tiny bar located on a stretch of highway leading out of Romey but not too far from campus. The outside resembled an extra-long trailer home, and the inside wasn’t impressive either, but the atmosphere was unmatched. Good jukebox classics, good beer, and good people always equaled good times at the Lowdown. Homecoming brought out more patrons, more reminiscing, and consequently, I’d stumbled into the place as a Romey U student and never missed an opportunity to visit when I happened to be in town.
We settled at one of the faded-top t-tables near the bar. Luckily, we’d arrived early enough to watch the place slowly fill up. Over a couple of Coronas, we chatted about her dancing and how much she loved it, my travels, and the old men who trickled in wearing their Sunday best. She wore tight jeans and a short Romey U sweatshirt. I wore jeans and a plain black hoodie. It was hard for me to take my eyes off her. She was so damn beautiful, gorgeous. More than one man had approached our table to “congratulate” me on my lady. Brooklyn would giggle and I had to wonder if she knew. Did she know that she was the pinnacle, the full package, that she oozed the “it” factor? Did she have the slightest clue that from the moment I first touched her, I couldn’t get her off my mind? Did it occur to her that if I truly understood who I was, I wouldn’t hesitate to make her mine, really mine? I didn’t understand much in life, even at thirty-one, but I understood that the way I felt when I was with her was unique and addictive, something I didn’t ever want to stop feeling. She made me want to stop wandering but I just didn’t know how.
As she watched the goings on around us, I watched her intently, honestly wanting to leave and take her to my room so I could bury myself inside her over and over again until it was time for me to catch my flight, until it was time for me to leave. Because I had to leave. Instead, when the song on the old jukebox changed from The Spinners’It’s a Shameto Marvin Gaye’sI Want You, I said, “Dance with me, Brooklyn Skye.”
Somehow, she heard me, replying with a smile and a nod. I led her the few paces to the center of the room to the de facto dance floor, pulling her into my arms. She was only a few inches shorter than me, less in the heels she wore, her thinner frame a perfect fit against my much bulkier one. She leaned into me, her long arms wrapped around my neck as I held her waist while Marvin serenaded us, the lyrics so damn relatable that I had to fight the urge to strip her in front of the other patrons. I slid my hands up her back and down to her ass, my dick getting harder by the millisecond.
Lowering my mouth to her ear, I murmured, “I want you. Can I have you, Brooklyn Skye?”
Her head moved, her eyes slamming into mine. Then she reached for my head, pulling it down so that my left ear was at her mouth. After giving the lobe a bite, she said, “That’s a question you don’t even have to ask, Vann London. If you want me, I’m yours.”
The next thing I knew, I’d settled the check and in an instant, we were in my rental, and she was scrambling to straddle me in the driver’s seat right on the gravel parking lot at The Lowdown Tavern. I was too big and she was too tall for us to be trying to fuck in the car, not to mention the fact that we were in public—nighttime or not, but neither of us cared. It was like we were both afflicted with a frenzied, crippling lust for one another as our hands worked frantically to remove the clothing that was in our way. Then she slid down on me, sheathing my steel in her silk.
