Honey Girl(84)

“I like to be prepared,” Ximena says primly, getting up. “I’ll be right back.”

Grace shakes her head. “No, I’ll get it,” she says quietly. “I could use some air anyway. All this carefree happiness is more than I can bear. Where is it?”

Ximena glances at her phone. “On the front deck. Tucked in the corner closest to that cherry blossom tree.”

Grace nods and starts to untangle herself. “Got it, boss. I’ll be right back.”

“I can go,” Agnes says. She fluffs up her hair under her pink beret. “It’ll give me a chance to show off my outfit.”

Ximena stares at her. “Porter is going,” she says carefully.

Agnes crosses her arms and tilts her head like a challenge. “Porter had a long day,” she says. “I think she should stay here.”

“Believe me,” Ximena mutters fiercely, “you’ve made it quite clear what you think.”

“Then maybe you should—”

“Okay,” Grace cuts in. “I’m going to go get the champagne, so you two can have this—is this a lovers’ spat? Is this foreplay? I’m flattered that you would involve me, but—” she leans down to kiss Agnes’s cheek, then Ximena’s “—maybe another night. Be right back.”

She feels their eyes on her as she disappears into the crowd.

Outside the tent, the world becomes quieter. She shivers as a night breeze rolls in and blows through the grove trees. Hello again, Grace Porter, the crinkle of the leaves says.

“Hello,” she whispers back.

She makes her way through the dimly lit path toward the main house. The porch lights are on, and the same gold string lights from the tents are twined down the railings. She stops to admire them. Everything looks gold kissed. If there is any truth to the story of the sun favoring her at birth, tonight she could believe it.

On the porch, there’s the box of champagne, already loaded on a cart ready to be wheeled out. She grunts with the weight and starts the annoying job of getting it down the steps.

She turns around, trying to decipher the probability of dropping the whole thing, when she realizes there is a light coming from the groves. A flashlight or something. There is someone out there.

“Shit,” she says. She sighs and stares up at the sky. “I am way too Black for this.”

She waits and watches, but the light does not dim. “Okay,” she says. She opens the case of champagne and pulls out a bottle. “We’re going to ‘white girl in a horror movie’ this shit.” She carries the bottle out like a baseball bat for protection.

With the bottle in hand, she moves quietly through the trees. These paths are familiar to her. Whoever is out there does not know these groves like she does. Grace gets close to the mysterious light and holds her bottle out. Whoever this is doesn’t stand a chance.

“Who the hell—” She stops, the bottle coming just shy of the person in front of her. “Yuki?”

Yuki turns around. Her black hair gleams in the light. Her half-moon silver piercings glint. Flowers bloom, her very own cherry blossoms, from the exposed parts of her skin. “Are you going to kill me with that, or can we open it?” she asks.

Grace tries to recover from her shaking adrenaline. “What are you doing here?”

Yuki shrugs. She looks very small out here. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I heard there was a lonely creature lurking in these orange groves. I wanted to see for myself.” She looks intently at Grace. “And I heard from some friends of yours that there was a wedding.”

“And which one did you come for?” Grace leans against an orange tree. If another breeze comes through, it might just take her with it.

Yuki sighs. “I thought about going to the wedding,” she says. “But I couldn’t. It made me think about...”

“Us,” Grace breathes out, and Yuki nods in agreement. “I thought about you the whole time. I missed you, like my body knew if I was standing at a wedding altar, you were supposed to be there with me.”

Grace takes in the girl in front of her. She’s wearing a high-waisted leather skirt with a striped button-up tucked in. Her face is done up with shimmering, dramatic makeup. There are metallic barrettes holding her bangs back. She’s barefoot, and her feet are speckled with earth and soil. She is beautiful, and Grace aches for her.

“Were you really out here walking?” Grace asks. “Were you out here the whole time?”

Yuki shrugs again. She doesn’t meet Grace’s eyes, not yet. “I can see the appeal, I guess,” she says. “Almost got myself lost walking in these groves, trying to figure out if I wanted to talk to you. I was so angry. I am still so angry. But I’m here, and I hate to waste a trip.”

Grace swallows. It hurts. It all hurts. “Well, I’m glad you came,” she says. “I should have asked you myself, but I don’t know if I could have handled it if you said no.”

Yuki meets her eyes finally. “Don’t you know, Honey Girl?” She plays with her collar. It’s pressed neat, like she wanted to make an impression. “I said yes to you once, and I haven’t learned how to say anything else, since.”

Grace steps forward. “I’m guessing you got my recording. I was—I don’t know how you do it,” she confesses. Yuki stares at her, illuminated by moonlight. “It was scary. It was terrifying. I don’t know how it doesn’t terrify you to get on your show and—”