Page 32 of Keeping Busy
“Busy wilded out when his grandmother died. I know something about people reacting poorly to the death of someone close to them, cuz Nasir smooth went down the rabbit hole when his best friend was killed. I don’t think the mess that Busy went through with that Ainsley Neuberg hoe, is his general character. I think that was grief, and hurt and sadness. Stop making excuses to deny yourself that boy’s attention. I know that’s what it is Mecca, at least part of it. You know Dr. Marva said that some part of you gets a little thrill from having the self-discipline to deny yourself where other people would give in to their nature.” She lowered her voice, and it was filled with love and concern. “Sometimes self-denial is a punishment. Don’t take pride in punishing yourself. You don’t deserve it. You deserve the attention of someone as kind, gorgeous, sexy, successful, protective and skilled at foot massages as Busy.”
“Tell Mecca that Maddox Mayhew wants her ass, and come back to bed.” I heard Nasir say. “The entire time y’all was over here, dude never took his eyes off you. He was definitely giving off proprietary vibes.”
I smiled in spite of myself. “Thanks, Joy-Joy. Thanks, Nasir. Go back to bed. We’ll talk when I get back from Kentucky.”
I heard Joya’s gasp. “You’re going to Kentucky with him?”
“Yeah, tomorrow night. We’re attending some type of season kick-off, training camp kick-off, back-to-school barbecue on Sunday.”
“Back-to-school? You’re crazy. How long are you gonna be in Kentucky?”
“I think we’re coming back Monday.”
“Have fun.” She sang.
Mecca
8
The flight from Chicago to Londynville, Kentucky was short, especially when you considered the fact that we took a private jet. There was no check-in, no TSA, no baggage claim, no waiting at our gate. In a little more than an hour, Maddox and I were deboarding the plane and sliding into the backseat of a black Infiniti QX80.
On the plane ride, Maddox told me that he’d put what he referred to as “the house of shame” on the market after the Ainsley Neuberg situation. We were going to stay at his new place in the heart of the city, downtown Londynville.
When the driver brought the truck to a stop and I saw where we were, I got majorly excited. His place was a red brick, converted firehouse. The doors where fire engines used to race from the building had been transformed into an oversized picture window, with a large flower box in front. The door that led into the home was painted...wait for it, fire engine red.
“Busy.” I said looking over at him in shock.
He tried his hardest to hide the smirk that was threatening to overtake his lips, but he was losing the battle. “What?”
“It’s a firehouse. You didn’t tell me it was a firehouse.”
“It’s not. It’s just a house. Ain’t no scantily clad firemen up in here, so your little firefighter fantasies aren’t about to come true.” He teased.
“This is gorgeous.” I jumped out of the truck without waiting for Busy to open my door for me like I usually would. I walked around the side of his home, taking in the beautiful red brick. When he joined me on the side of the house, I spoke again. “This brick is amazing. I love Chicago brick, love it. But for this project, I do prefer the more uniformed look of a manufactured brick.”
“What do you know about that?” He asked, looking at me strangely. “You spend your free time rehabbing homes or something?”
“You know my little cousins own a design business. I hang around their projects sometimes.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Sometimes, I think about going back to school for design. Plus, you know I watch a lot of HGTV.”
We both chuckled.
The driver appeared with our bags in tow. “Your bags, Mr. Mayhew.”
“You wanna stand out here admiring the bricks, or do you want to see the inside?”
I smiled up at the beautiful man who owned the beautiful home. “I wanna see the inside.”
I waited impatiently, bouncing on the balls of my feet with anticipation as he unlocked his front door, and entered the code into his alarm key-pad.
I really should’ve been embarrassed by how brand new I was acting. I mean, Bryan and Janaye Goode had shown my siblings and me the world. They’d exposed us to travel, culture, high society, and privilege, but Busy’s house was something different. It was perfection. If somebody had given me his exact house with a blank footprint, I would’ve created the exact same space, or at least tried to.
I stayed mum while the driver set our bags in the middle of the floor, thanked Maddox and went on his way, leaving Maddox and me alone in the space standing right by the front door. I took in the open floor plan, the finishes, the furnishings, the exposed brick, the stunning ash wood floors, and I was in love.
I turned my gaze to my childhood neighbor, who was clearly now all grown up. “Would you marry me, so I can live in this house?”
He watched me silently, and I could tell that he was calculating his response. He was taking so long to reply, that I was about to let him know that I was only joking, when he finally spoke. “If I marry you, do I get to touch you the way I can’t stop imagining touching you?”
It was my turn to contemplate and ponder my response. How to answer that question? Should I make a joke and bring some levity back to the conversation, or give him the answer that had immediately popped into my mind?
