Page 101 of Deeper

His dark eyes bore into mine and I felt my heart clench at the sight of how serious he looked. Zander turned and gazed out at the city scenery below. “I brought you out here because I have to ask you something, and I know it’s a lot, and I’ll understand if you say no, but it would mean a lot if you consider it.”

“What?” I asked.

I watched as Zander took a deep, nervous breath and stared down at the ground for a moment.

“I’ve been invited to the Dymond Dinner. Pen posted a video of herself laying out by her pool listening to my song. Apparently, she’s a big fan.” Zander gave a sheepish shrug, as if it were no big deal.

At once I rolled my eyes. NotthosePatels. If there was one group of people that annoyed me the most, it was those insufferable Patels. A talentless group of individuals who became famous through the unfortunate passing of their patriarch. Their father was a politician who had been assassinated in the ’90s, and a decade later,theyhappened.

There were three of them, two girls and a boy, the children of a White mother, Patsy Hearst, and an Indian father, David Patel. Penelope, Parker, and their younger sister Porsia.

Their parents split up when Porsia was a kid, and Patsy moved on to real estate mogul Jace Hearst, and the two later had a couple of kids of their own—equally intolerable as the true Patels—twins, Piper and Peyton Hearst.

Over a decade ago, a reality show came out of their claim to fame:Presenting the Patels, that still ran on the Bravo network. The purpose was to give an inside look on their lives as they navigated years after their father’s assassination as well as introducing how totally down-to-earth their family was. None of them had talent outside of being attractive. The show only highlighted how whiny and privileged they all were, and how drugged up Jace was to deal with it all.

Why did I loathe them?

The Patels, Piper and Peyton included, were nothing but a bunch of culture vultures. It was one thing to appreciate Black culture, but it was another toappropriateit and use it as a prop. There were multiple scandals of the girls being accused of stealing ideas from lesser-known Black women to pawn off as their own creations for their Patel brand.

Not to mention the post-and-delete Peyton did when he uploaded a picture of himself sporting a fade haircut with braids on top with the caption:White boys do it better. It hadn’t been live long before Black social media ate his ass up.

Parker was honestly more low-key. He only hooked up with every model he could from Instagram, and was often seen partying with rappers and ballers to solidify his desperation to be “down” like his sisters.

Needless to say, I didn’t fuck with the Patels, which was a shame since Pen married son of hip-hop mogul William Dymond aka Willie D, Owen Dymond, a few years back. Owen Dymond wasthesuper producer with a shelf full of Grammys to boast. Any chart-topping hip-hop song that came out in the past twenty years definitely had that Dymond touch on it.

And now Zander had been summoned by them.

It was a known fact that every summer the Dymond Dynasty held a cookout where all the who’s who of the music industry and some of the Hollywood elite attended. Blogs and magazines covered it like it was the Oscars, and it was this huge thing. It was to celebrate life, love, Black excellence, and legacy, as well as kick off the summer.

Every up-and-coming hip-hop artist and R&B singer had to feel special to be invited to the Dymond Dinner. Willie D was a legend and his sons weren’t far behind. Who was I to step on Zander’s toes, even if it meant being near the Patels?

“That’s big, huge!” I admitted.

“Yeah, and I’d really like for you to be my date,” Zander said. “These things aren’t for me, but Paul agrees it would look good to go. I have to show my face. I have to show that I’m still here.”

In recent years, momager Patsy Hearst had finagled her way into putting the Patel touch on the event since Pen pretty much had Owen wrapped around her finger, and Owen was his dad’s right hand. Willie was the head of the Dymond empire, but his sons, Owen, Remington, and Galen, pretty much held down the fort these days.

I wrung my hands, suddenly nervous and unsure. Beyond the fact that I wasn’t trying to schmooze with people I couldn’t stand, I wasn’t sure I’d even fit in.

“I’ll be in New York, and you’ll be here,” Zander continued. “Hopefully while I’m gone you can really think about it. It’s in two weeks, on the eighth. I understand the pressure of attending. I get it. There’s three reasons to say no.”

“Three?” I questioned.

Zander began listing them on his fingers. “The Patels aren’t for everyone. I get it. So that’s one. Two, Piper does some acting and is also good friends with Jo, so I’m certain Jolene will be there. And three, Teddy and Piper also had their thing and he’s buzzing right now and he could be there too.”

Shit. “You’re walking into the lion’s den.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Zander commented. “There’s going to be enough people there so hopefully certain paths aren’t crossed. I’m not counting on Teddy to show up, to be honest. The guy’s an asshole, and I’m not saying that to be bitter; I’m saying that because the son of a bitch is a prick. Jo said he and Piper ended badly—word is,allhis relationships end badly. Hopefully she hates him enough to keep his name off the list.”

Despite his golden boy image, Teddy Sykes was drama, I could see that now. One thing about the Patels—they lived on their names being in the spotlight. There were numerous times I’d seen their names trending on Twitter because of some feud they decided to take online rather than a private family group chat.

It was a Dymond event originally, but with Pen now in the picture, she also helped pick who came, with her family’s influence. There was no telling who was coming.

Deep down, the idea of going scared me, andIwasn’t the one with anxiety.

Zander needed me, and I didn’t want to let him down.

I gave him an earnest smile as I reached out and held on to his hand. “I promise I’ll think long and hard about it.”

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