Page 28 of Mahogany 2
She looked at me, wearing a confused expression. “Why?”
Did I give a fuck? Not for real. I was trying to distract her from how nervous she was. That was it. However, I was a little interested in knowing how long she’d been with him. Only because she seemed so unhappy.
“Conversation,” I said, handing her the stack of papers I gathered.
She took them from me. With a side eye, she said, “When I was fifteen.”
“Damn,” I said, stunned. “That’s wild as hell.”
“Wild? How is that wild? Most people think it’s beautiful, thank you very much.” She stated, matter-of-factly as if getting married at twenty-two to the person you were with since fifteen was actually a flex. It wasn’t. You think I kept that to myself? Shit no. I kept it one hundred with her. No wonder she looked so unhappy in the photos of the two of them. That nigga should have looked just as miserable in them, low key. Married at twenty-two? Together since fifteen? Mahogany hadn’t lived. Not for real. And that was sad.
“There’s nothing beautiful about devoting yourself to someone before your life actually begins. No disrespect but… it’s pretty fuckin’ sad if you ask me.”
She paused, drew back and looked me up and down. “Good thing I didn’t ask you.”
I turned my mouth down and nodded. “I guess you got a point. My bad.”
She rolled her eyes, took a deep breath and said, “Look… I think it’s best if we keep things, conversations included, professional. And because you can’t seem to comprehend the fact that I amMrs. Mahogany Mills-Morris, please stick to calling me Mahogany.”
Again, I nodded. “My bad. I got you.”
We locked eyes for a second and she looked away with a deep breath.
She was offended. I struck a nerve. Was I trying to do either of those things? Hell naw. How long she’d been with him had just caught me off guard. That was it.
After a couple of minutes of tidying up in the conference room, in silence, we moved to the main area of the office where her desk and a little seating area sat. We sat there. She pulled up the design schemes, and I leaned in, listening, but more so taking in the scent of her perfume. Today she smelled sweet like candy. Inviting. Fun. Playful. Flirty. The opposite of what she gave. Although she’d taken a couple of deep breaths and had snapped on me a little, I still felt how nervous she was. I wanted to reach over and massage her shoulders. Wanted to do something to loosen her up. But I couldn’t. Instead, I drew back a little despite wanting to draw in closer. I gave her space, when I wanted to close it. If there was a way I could help, I’d do it. I wanted her comfortable—not tensed.
“What do you think?” She asked, glancing over at me before her eyes were back on that iPad.
I took a deep breath and reached for it, our fingers brushing up against one another and she shocked me. Or I shocked her. Neither of us acknowledged it.
“I think it’s nice. You said it’s a rough draft?”
“Yeah,” she said with a shrug. “Something I worked on after work. We don’t have to go in that direction. I was just?—”
“We’re going in this direction,” I told her, finally paying attention to what it was she was showing me. “I like it. Rough draft and all.”
She smiled and took the tablet back when I handed it to her. “You sure?”
“Positive,” I reassured, catching her eyes again.
She stayed connected for a minute. Pulled her lips into her mouth, nodded, and then said, “Okay, bet. We’re heading in this direction then. Great. How long are we before construction wraps up? We reached out to Louie this morning for a follow up, but he hasn’t gotten back to us just yet.”
I told her and we went back to going over the design scheme. She talked. I let her, taking everything in. As best as I could at least. I couldn’t get over the fact that she’d been with her dude for damn near twenty years. That told me a lot. Told me why, with me, she was so nervous. Told me why she didn’t seem happy and bubbly in the pictures. Told me enough. All of that time meant there were scars. I wondered, if in all of those years she’d been loved correctly. I wondered, since she’d been with dawg for so long, if she even knew herself. She carried herself like she knew but I wondered if it was a front. As much of a front as her marriage was. I watched, listening to her, eyes on her eyes watching the iPad and I wondered a lot. Why? I didn’t know. I wasn’t an inquisitive nigga. Not where women were concerned, I wasn’t at least. But Mahogany… she piqued my interest like a muthafucka.
7
MAHOGANY
He was staringat me again.
Crescent. I ignored it. Did my best to ignore it at least. My heart was racing. His eye contact was drawing. Magnetic. Pulling, in a way that said, ‘hey, look at me.’ But I kept my eyes on the iPad. We were at my office. He arrived about forty minutes ago, catching me off guard in the middle of cleaning up after my last client. When he walked in, I was singing to India Arie like I was a mainstream artist, in my element. When I turned around and saw him, my heart damn near dropped out of my ass, I was so caught off guard. If it weren’t for my last meeting running over, I would have been ready for him. Speaking of my last meeting, it was a disaster, and my mood was a little off because of it. It didn’t matter that I’d been in business for years, leaving a meeting certain that the client wouldn’t close on the contract was disheartening. But it was what it was. I couldn’t get them all, right?
Anyway.
Crescent’s eyes on me were like beaming lasers. Sharp. Focused. Unmoving. Despite how much his eyes beckoned me, I kept rambling about the design concepts. I doubted he waslistening. I could feel his mind on other things. But I didn’t dare look up and ask him what. I was afraid that he’d be honest. He’d been nothing but honest thus far. Just a couple of minutes ago he called my marriage ‘wild’. Basically, said it waspretty fucking sadto have been with someone as long as I’d been with Duke. And while that might’ve been true, who was he to come out and say it? Like he had the right. Like it wasn’t offensive?
He didn’t care.
