Grown(9)

“Hey,” he says, his voice sultry, extending his hand. Soft, just like I remember, his fingertips tickle my palm ever so slight and I’m tangled up in his eyes.

And he still doesn’t have his shirt on.

After a beat, he turns to Daddy.

“You must be the father. Korey,” he says. “No offense, sir, but your daughter definitely favors her pretty momma.”

“Aight now, don’t be trying to steal my wife,” Daddy laughs, shaking his hand. “I’ve heard stories about you!”

“All lies, I swear!”

Mom nudges my arm and I remember my one duty.

“Um, thank you for the tickets.”

“Anytime.”

“Your show was amazing,” Mom gushes, clapping her hands. “Our little girl here thinks the world of you.”

Mortified, I wince at the word little. Korey notices, offering a sympathetic grin.

“Well, I think your daughter has an amazing voice,” he says with a wink. “Hey, have y’all met Charlie Wilson yet?”

Mom’s and Daddy’s eyes light up.

“Charlie Wilson?” Daddy gasps. “THE Charlie Wilson?”

“Yeah, he’s right over there. Hey, Tony? Take these good folks to meet Uncle Charlie.”

The bodyguard I saw the night I Korey him gives a silent nod. I start to trail behind Mom before Korey catches my hand.

“Hey,” he coos. “Where you going, Bright Eyes?”

My heart does that fluttering thing again. He called me by my name.

“Um, nice show,” I squeak.

“So, you approve?”

“I mean, I don’t think you need my approval.”

“No. It matters what you think of me, though.”

Still starstruck, I say the first thing that comes to mind.

“Your show was . . . breathtaking.”

His smile cracks into a laugh. “Breathtaking?”

In an instant, I want the earth to swallow me whole.

“OMG. OMG. I’m so . . . that was so . . . OMG. I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Yes. Yes, you did. And I like it.”

For a moment, it feels like we’re the only ones in the room. Maybe on the planet.

“So, anymore shows for you?” he asks.

“No, just singing to the Littles.”

“The Littles?”

“Oh yeah, that’s what I call my sibs. I have three sisters and one brother. I’m the oldest.”

“Daaaamn, that’s a lot of y’all! Your folks were busy.”

“Ew! I don’t want to think of my parents that way!”

“My bad,” he laughs. “Man, I always wanted a big family. This only-kid thing ain’t all that.”

“It’s . . . uh, crowded. Plus, it’s different. By my age, you were already touring all over the world.” I wince at the age difference slipup but carry on. “I mean, it must have been amazing, doing the thing you love most. No one saying you can’t, or you have to babysit this kid or clean that.”

He chuckles. “Well, I got a feeling I’ll be seeing you behind the mic real soon. You got this . . . hunger about you. I can sense it.”

“It’s . . . all I’ve ever wanted to do,” I say, my chest seeming lighter.

Korey leans back with an admiring glow. “Damn. I feel that.”

Across the room, my parents are gushing in front of their favorite artist. Tony is somehow blocking my view of them. Or maybe he’s blocking their view of me.

“Here,” Korey says, stepping closer. “Give me your phone.”

He glances around, lowering my phone to his hip, and programs in a number, before sending himself a text.

“There. Now I got you,” he says, slipping it in my jacket pocket with a light pat to my hip. “Just . . . don’t tell anyone, aight? It’ll be our thang, Bright Eyes.”

My breath hitches in my throat. We have a thang.

Mom is at my side again, her face flushed. She loops arms with me.

“Wow, he’s just as amazing in person!”

“Yeah, he’s really been a mentor to me, all these years. Which is what I want to be for your daughter. Like I said before, she definitely has something special.”





Chapter 10


Beach Bums




We were once beach bums before moving to this thickened forest. We were a family that played in the sand, swam in rough waters, shoulders kissed by the sun.

Mommy and Daddy grew up on a beach in Far Rockaway, Queens, and called themselves the first fish of our family. Daddy says we evolved from fish, which is why we are so drawn to water. It’s a part of our genetic memory. That made sense to him, while the idea of God did not.

During the summer, we’d pack up coolers and stay at the beach from sunup to sundown.

We lived in a three-bedroom apartment with my grandma, my mom’s mom, facing the ocean. In mornings before school, I’d step on the balcony, filling my nose with the sea breeze. Grandma would join me, gazing out at the choppy water in longing.

“It sure is busy out there today. How about a song?”

Grandma called me her very own Little Mermaid, since I never wanted to get out of the water. I wanted to live in the sea and sing at the shore, even in the winter when the waves were a frozen ice sculpture. She said my voice was from another world that filled our home with the soulful melodies of Aretha Franklin, Patti LaBelle, and Whitney Houston.