Page 29 of A Boy is a Gun: Part I
More attention means more work and happier employees, plus I don’t have to lay anyone off in a recession—a win-win-win for everyone.
I try to act normal; Hayley is playing it up for the camera. She seriously lives for this stuff. Her face is always beat, and she has no less than several bangles and stacked necklaces on. She also knows she’s one of the major attractions to Fresh Espresso, so it means more money for her to stunt.
I’m trying to look like I didn’t just roll my ass out of bed. I’m putting more effort into my appearance, but I feel no desire to get glammed up like I used to. I know motherhood changes things, and the attempt to put into my appearance is one of them.
But I’m not falling completely off. I still wear my tank tops and my Gucci sneakers. My makeup alters somewhere between natural and maybe a little glam. I never cared about my appearance that much, but now, with social media, I have to be “on.”
Each time I put my yoga pants on, I remember how Cameron pinches my ass every chance he gets. I’m still screaming from the memory of the other night.
“Hey, ladies!” Jamie walks in and smiles. She gets a cup of Barack Obama (of course she does) and heads next door. As I have gotten to know Jamie better, I found out she is the antithesis of her parents.
She, of course, has a bookcase full of white feminist literature, includingWhite Fragility, How to Be an Antiracist,and more James Baldwin books than I could count.
Politically, however, this is the only stark difference between Jamie and her parents. Their lifestyle couldn’t be more in tune with each other in their opulent ways. Heather prefers classic wealth – the type of wealth when you walk in and you know that person has money. Jamie likes to downplay her wealth, but she can’t hide too much of it.
Wood floors, a few original Basquiat paintings (I know her food blog didnotpay for those), and a long dining table that could hold up to twenty people, if not more. Her open kitchen is enormous, with a marble island and a series of cameras in the right places to capture the right angles.
I’m not stupid, and Cameron has taught me a lot about opulence, so I recognize quiet wealth when I see it. Jamie knows she can’t afford that, and Ethan isn’t pulling enough money to supplement it. Jamie can hate Cameron all she wants, but she loves his money. She might even love his money more than she loves him.
Jamie is meeting with the construction company about the restaurant. Hayley and I purchased the building next door, and we are partners on the record and off. Everything – wins and losses – will be divided between us.
While it was supposed to be just a ghost kitchen, Jamie felt it should be a full-blown restaurant with staff. She says it would be a wild success, and everyone would love to frequent both places. I couldn’t argue with that.
We both have ignored the obvious elephant in the room: Cameron and, by extension, Ethan. I know where Jamie’s loyalty lies, and it isn’t with the Pages. She’s not letting family issues get in the way of what we’re doing; I hope she doesn’t. We never talk about our men for obvious reasons, and we get along very well.
I’m not oblivious. At some point, there will be an uncomfortable conversation, and lines will be drawn. I hope we can co-exist long enough to have a successful opening and run before that happens.
“So,” Hayley bumps shoulders with me as we prepare an order, “how’s it like with Ms. I’m Too Good for the Lifestyle, but I Benefit the Most from It?”
It’s a contradicting point with Jamie. She acts above her family in many ways, but she’s yet to cut ties, and I doubt she’ll ever will. She hates her Republican conservative parents, but she’ll invite them to her home for dinner and vice-versa. She hates what Cameron does but is grateful he paid for her lifestyle in San Francisco and her move.
The only one who doesn’t get her ire is Robert and Claire, and she only blames Cameron for Claire’s addiction. It’s clear to anyone with half a brain that Jamie is angry at those who refuse to change instead of focusing on those who still need help. Jamie is a strange bird.
“We’re getting along for the most part,” I admit, “she’s finally met Mia when I took her to Heather’s home the other day.”
“The Trap Queen and her royal heir, huh?” Hayley says under her breath. “I bet she’s getting in her ‘My niece is half-Black posts!’ already.”
My stomach flips with the information. If it hasn’t happened already, I know it’s coming. The 8.5x 11’s love to score brownie points with other napkin-colored folks and hope some of that will transfer over to the Black community.
The difference is that it’s never genuine. You can never tell if they really like Black folks or like usjust enoughto borrow whatever they can and hand it back to us when they’re done with it. It reminds me of every time a slang term becomes popular. It’s one thing if Lil’ Wayne says bling bling; it’s another ball game when Karen and Susan do it.
“I can’t read Jamie,” I shrug, “I don’t know if she’s truly disgusted or she’s just doing that because she has an image to keep up with her fellow crunchy liberals.”
“She can’t lie for very long,” Hayley finishes another cup and starts another, “at some point, she’s going to reveal the truth in one way or another. If she hates Cameron, she got with the perfect person to bring him down.”
My stomach twists in knots, and it’s an unshakable feeling. Maybe Jamie and Ethan genuinely love each other, and perhaps, they have a common goal that binds them together. “And that’s the issue,” I prepare a plate of pastries before I turn to Hayley, “if she hates Cameron, she’s willing to risk it all, and I don’t think she’s ready for those problems.”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Hayley shrugs and prepares the order for the customers.
I finish the other orders when Cameron walks in with Mia. A few customers turn to greet him, and they point in hushed tones to their parties. I feel their glances back at me as they look at us. I know it’s weird to see us together, and a part of it might be a race thing.
Because Cameron is known for more than just being Eric Page’s son, I know it’sthe other thing.
Cameron will never admit to any of it, and why would he? It’s clear as the noses on everyone’s faces what he does. What he also does is help out the community. He’s poured a lot of money into East Atlanta, and one could argue it’s much better than before.
It still doesn’t stop the whispers and second glances. It also does nothing to resolve my Granny’s feelings about him.
“Angel…” He says in a low, sexy tone as he greets me with a kiss. His lips cover mine, and we’re about to be obscene if I don’t pull away. I hear the collective,‘Mmm…’from a few other women. “Can I get a cappuccino and a biscuit?”
