The back of my head hit the wall.
Zoey’s cackling halted. I cursed myself underneath my breath. She’d heard me. Then I caught footsteps approaching my direction. I had to play this shit right. I began walking toward the kitchen and almost collided with Zoey. Her forehead was wrinkled and mouth collapsed, I’m sure, not appreciating the surprise. I fought damn hard to keep an impassive expression.
“J-Jae… I-I have an early morning. I need to go,” she fought for steadiness in her tone. I could hear a baritone voice travel through the earpiece that was stuck to her head. “Yeah. Ummmmm…maybe on Thursday. I’ll call you to confirm.”
I knew she was referring to that date I’d heard her talk about a couple of days ago. Did that mean I’d be done with my hanging out here?
Zoey’s doe eyes were glued to mine, almost in a shameful, fearful manner.
“Goodnight.”
I don’t know if she waited for Jae to reply before she hung up.
“I…I…uhh…thought you were sleep.” She cleared her throat before rubbing her lips together.
Shit. Zoey abashed?
“I did, too. Funny thing about that Mr. Sandman: he can be a real tease.”
Zoey bit the inside of her bottom lip, telling her of her rogue with Jae. Her eyes danced all around me, no longer settling into my own.
This time I cleared my throat before informing, “I’m going to get some juice and then hopefully go back to sleep.” I walked off, not understanding my anger.
Since the Philly interview was a morning show, Zoey made sure I was up and showered to prepare for it. Angie Martinez’s wasn’t a morning broadcast, but Zoey suggested that we record the interview with her after the Philly and knock them out consecutively to help with the emotional dip that I was sure would take place. Once that was done, she forced me out and on a Ni?a’s Sweet Cakes run with her. She really needed to physically visit them all, seeing she’d been away for days with me. I tagged along with security in tow, sometimes sneaking in with her and heading directly into her office or staying in the truck to return calls and emails. In my fog, I made sure to reach out to Jackson daily.
By the time those errands were complete, it was late in the evening. Ironically, I was beat tired, making me aware of the slip in my stamina. After all, this was Zoey’s abbreviated workday, I didn’t exert the physical energy I was accustomed to. We had dinner out at a friend of mine’s restaurant in South Philly. It was a few blocks from one of the bakeries and I was able to have Srey set it up and keep it low key. It was strange to eat with an all grown up Zoey alone. She was more centered, assured, and sultry. She drank wine and talked art and world economics. Her questions were probing, soul-provoking and carried more depth rather than inquest or riddled with hidden motives. She appeared as a free spirit, teetering on aloofness and extreme self-confidence. And while I appreciated her evolution, something about it was unsettling. She was sexy, reflective, magnetic…appealing.
When we got back to her place, she offered the shower to me first. I didn’t bother with the typical modesty of asking was she sure that I’d been practicing since I arrived. That shit got old real quick. This was Zoey after all, not some broad I’d just met and wasn’t sure of her level of comfort with me. I needed the hot water of the shower to sprout over me, beating my tightened muscles from days of not properly stretching or working out. I could swear to hearing Zoey calling, but wasn’t too sure.
When I walked out of the shower, I looked in the partially fogged mirror of the vanity and realized my hair had grown…a lot. Looked like I had a damn miniature jheri curl. I made a note to call my barber. In the meantime, I needed a brush, comb…something. I opened a few drawers in search of a hair implement to no avail, and then found myself dazed at the contents of the last one.