Page 45 of Keeping Busy
“Hey. Reggie, right?” I narrowed my eyes and asked just to mess with him.
Busy laughed out loud.
“Ain’t this some shit?” Robeson joked.
“I’m just kidding. How’re you doing, Robeson?”
“Call me, Rob, Little Mama. I’m good. You’re looking pretty, as usual.”
“Thank you.”
“For real, though. How did you end up with this burly, swoll motherfucker? Like for real. I’ve known him forever, so I know he ain’t really got no game.”
Busy shook his head. “I got enough.”
I nodded in agreement. “He has plenty.”
“Awww, you just gone break my heart, right here? In front of a crowd? No chill whatsoever?”
“You’ll bounce back.” I assured him. “You have a lot of personality. I’m sure there are any number of women just waiting for you to give them some energy.”
He cocked his head to the side and watched me silently for a few beats. “You mighta just been bullshitting me, but that actually made me feel better about myself. I am somebody.” He joked. He turned and looked over at Busy. “I like her, Dawg. She’s good people.”
“Hell yeah, she is.” Busy responded, like that went without saying.
“She definitely has good taste in shoes.” Dominique Gardner said, changing the subject.
I looked down at the Saint Laurent wedges, which were beautiful, but obscenely expensive, then looked at Dominique beaming at her. “Thanks, Girl.”
I felt Busy slide my hand inside his. I looked up at him and smiled.
Mecca
11
About two days after the pictures from the Leopards’ Season Kickoff Backyard Barbecue thingy hit the internet, social media was able to connect all of the dots that I was a professional choreographer, who also happened to be the eldest daughter of DJ B. Goode. All of a sudden, every blog was posting stories about us, and photographers were posted up everywhere they thought that either DJ B. Goode, Busy or I would show up.
My dad (of course) took all of the attention in stride. He stopped and posed for pictures, talked to whoever tried to talk to him, and basically turned every question or inquiry about me into a way to promote his upcoming projects. I loved that man. I also loved that Busy seemed to be following his exact same playbook. He never answered questions about me or made any comment that didn’t put the spotlight back on him or his upcoming season.
Me, I basically stayed mum, and tried to remember to make sure that they always got my best angle when they photographed me. I didn’t workout six days a week to keep my dancers’ body tight for nothing.
Five days after leaving Kentucky, I was sitting on my yoga mat inside an Airbnb in Portland, Oregon. The Portland Pioneers Cheerleading team had brought me in to choreograph two routines for their upcoming season. My iPad was on the stand in front of me, while I performed a series of light stretches.
“So, you and Busy? I haven’t talked to you, but I have seen how you two are blowing up social media.” Joya said to me from where her face was displayed on the screen. “They seemed to catch quite a few shots of him loving you up at that barbecue. What was up with that?”
“That is a really good question.” I deflected. “Because, we were only there for a little more than an hour, and I do not remember him being all that handsy.”
“Looked like he was being handsy and lipsy.” My cousin Kyndall said, her face coming into focus on the screen.
“Definitely lipsy.” Joya agreed. “I mean, you could barely see his face, it was buried so deep in your neck, or in your shoulder, or in…”
“Her mouth?” Kyndall interjected.
Joya glanced over her shoulder at Kyndall. “Exactly.”
“Well, let’s just say that it was a good weekend.” I said, reaching for my toes and elongating my back.
“A good weekend filled with good sex?” Kyndall questioned.
