Page 13 of Seek & Destroy

“You too, Pop. This is Esani Simms. Esani, Judge Simeon Wiles.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wiles.”

“Pleasure all mine, doll,” he replied, doing the same as his wife and kissing my cheek.

“She does look like a doll, doesn’t she?” Mrs. Alina asked, smiling.

“She does. You did good, son.”

“What you trying to say, Pop?” Kwame jested.

Mr. Wiles chuckled. “I think you know. Let’s sit. Nuala, you can bring the food out now.”

A woman, who I hadn’t noticed standing at the entrance of the kitchen, nodded then disappeared through the double doors.

“You guys have a lovely home,” I complimented them.

It was almost identical to Kwame’s home without all the bells and whistles his home came with.

“Thank you, darling. Although, I’d prefer something much smaller, my dear son and husband wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I enjoy the space,” Mr. Wiles countered.

“I’m sure you do. Anyway, Esani, what do you do for a living, love?” Mrs. Alina asked.

Kwame chuckled. “Ma, can we at least get some food in our bellies first?”

“It’s fine, babe. They want to get to know the lady in your life and someone you brought them to meet,” I interjected and smiled at him. “To answer your question, Mrs. Alina, I own a hair and nail bar on the Westside of Detroit.”

“Oh, really? How long have you been in business?”

“It will be five years in August.”

“Impressive.” She beamed.

Kwame nodded. “Indeed it is. I told her she should expand.”

I shook my head. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for that yet.”

“Why not? You have the clientele, and I’m sure there are more stylists that could only dream of being in a shop instead of their living rooms or basements,” Kwame replied.

“I’m positive there are, and it all sounds great, but I’m not making that much to open a second location.”

“Sweetheart, you’re sitting next to a man who invests in small or large black-owned businesses. If you’re as multi-talented as you say, then I suggest you capitalize off your talents,” Mr. Wiles spoke.

Nuala pushed through the doors with a serving tray, halting the conversation. I was ever so glad for the interruption. I understood what they were saying, and I totally agreed. However, being the independent, stubborn person that I was, I didn’t want Kwame to invest in me. A new car, a new bag, some shoes, or wardrobe would be great. But allowing him to drop such a large bag on another shop for me scared me. I didn’t want him to think he owned my shop or me, for that matter. As much as I enjoyed these moments with him, that little whore on my shoulder was tapping me, telling me to slow the fuck down.

One minute, he’s investing in you, and the next, he’s taking over. Bitch, you falling in love with this nigga is crazy work. Your mother would be appalled!

“Let us bow our heads for prayer,” Mrs. Alicia announced.

We bowed our heads, and while I was trying to listen to the prayer, my inner thoughts prevented me from doing so.

Run, bitch! Run!

* * *

Dinnerwith the Wiles family was nice. For a long time, it had been just me and my mom. I mean, we had family, but we didn’t hang out often for it to matter. Seeing how loving his parents were made me wonder if I had, had a two-parent home, would I have turned out differently? My mother never spoke on my father, and any time I mentioned him, she’d either ignore me, deflect, or tell me not to ask about theghost. I could see a hint of solemnity whenever I asked and wondered if it was my father who made her close her heart off to ever loving again.

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