Silence blanketed the table in favor of the clink and clank of silverware against porcelain. As everyone present focused on their rations, I studied the three generations of Stepford men. Absolutely beautiful, they all were. All bore the trademark of those cinnamon eyes that weren’t quite hazel or dark brown. All bore the same caramel complexion. All resembled one another. Each was a representation of what D3 would look like as he grew older. All were aging magnificently. To be awarded such splendor was a gift from the firmaments.
My God, was I a blessed woman. A really blessed woman.
“What do you think about that, Bee?”
“Huh?”
Misplaced in my thoughts, I hadn’t realized I was being addressed.
“I’m sorry. What were you asking, babe?”
Across the table, Sadie and Tori were giggling at the way I addressed Duke, smiling concurrently.
“I said The Pianist is in town for the holiday. I have an orchestra VIP box. Everyone is welcome to attend. Do you want to go?” Duke asked again.
Pierre Hermès, formally and professionally known as The Pianist, was a world-renowned piano extraordinaire. Frequently, he toured the country, though his home base was here in Paramour. As with every celebrity of note, anytime he was in his hometown, he brought the city out. A concert on Thanksgiving day was sure to produce a similar effect. The outing sounded like the perfect post-holiday event to attend.
“Yeah. Sure.”
The Hermès effect
The outing with Serenity’s family included most of those seated at the table for dinner. Opting to stay home with Sade and Trey, Sincere remained behind. As anticipated.
Serenity’s youngest brother had been uncharacteristically quiet at the dinner table. I’d braced myself for the nigga’s jabs about my age, though none came. Quiet was his default for the entirety of the night.
Just as well.
Despite the holiday, the arena was packed. Just like Saphyre, Pierre knew how to draw a crowd. Our group filed into the VIP orchestra box and relaxed in preparation for an evening of unrivaled musical art. Pierre cycled through his most famous compositions, ending the set with “Babylon,” a pianistic expression of the grievous state of our world.
Looking over everyone from Serenity’s crew in attendance, I could tell they all enjoyed the show. Serenity’s sole drab expression, however, triggered cause for alarm.
“Bee, you aight?” I whispered, pulling her close.
Left and right, her head shook. “I’m okay. I just—this was really beautiful. He’s a great pianist. I can’t believe it took me this long to get to one of his shows.”
“That’s the Hermès effect. You should see him and his sister play. They can bring down the house.”
Though I knew Pierre on a personal level, I was also unquestionably a fan. With a sullied family history, he didn’t have the easiest upbringing. I was glad to witness his rise to fame. Pierre had been filling arenas from his youthful days, and he deserved every dollar earned.
Serenity nuzzled closer against my neck. “This was truly amazing. Thank you for this. For treating my family as well.”
“It’s nothing,” I shrugged.
“It means everything, Duke. You don’t understand. We’re always the givers, so to have someone give to a giver… Even the smallest consideration… It’s overwhelming.”
“Well, be prepared to receive as much as you give because that’s exactly what I intend to do.”
I could tell something else was bothering her, though she hadn’t spoken on it. I could always tell with Bee. She was a compartmentalizer like me, but I could see through it. The rest of the world saw her well-put-together, but there were days like this when I could see right that that shit. Deciding to let the issue rest until we were alone, I didn’t press her to share her thoughts.
After the show, we headed back to Serenity’s condo, where she immediately scurried off to the shower. Toeing out my shoes and tugging my tie, I followed behind her, reaching her just as she got inside the stall.
“You wanna tell me now?” I asked, lounging near the entry and watching her scrub her skin as if it committed the offense.
“Tell you what, Duke?”
“Don’t do that, Bee. Don’t play on my intelligence. If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to, but just say that.”
I watched quietly as the water rinsed her of her transgressions. Seconds passed. Sixty of them.