My mouth parted in bewilderment. “PJ, what does that mean?”
Porter rubbed his forehead. “I know what it feels like for folks to make assumptions based on how you look. I have the great misfortune of looking exactly like my late father and my grandfather. You know, amongst certain groups of our people, a light complexion is still a hot commodity that comes with a lot of unspoken privileges. People assume—with the eyes, the complexion, the hair—that I’m this arrogant pretty-boy who knows it all. Everyone thinks that I’m skating by because of my looks and connections. I’m a Harrison, the great senator’s grandson. Even Greer hints at that any chance he gets. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. I’m an insecure, shy, nerdy guy who just played the role people expected of me. A people-pleaser who went to the right college, picked the right major, joined the legacy of a frat, had the girls, drove the fancy cars—all because that’s what’s expected of a guy like me. Ari, I hate fancy suits. Maintenance on my car is a beast. I live in an overpriced loft. I’d much rather be painting than doing 3D renderings. Deep down, it’s all a facade. It feels like a life someone else designed for me.”
My madeleine was now soggy, lying on a napkin. I stared at Porter. His eyes were softer. Sadder. “I didn’t know...” I breathed.
“It’s cool. No one really does. I keep so much stuff to myself.”
“Porter, you don’t have to keep stuff to yourself. I’m here for you.”
The small table felt like an ocean separating us. I leaned across the table, my index finger tracing the faint lines on the palm of his hand.
Porter clutched my hand, intertwining our fingers. “Ari, are we good?”
I nodded. “We’re good.”
Porter smiled, then clapped his hands. “Good! Because right now, we need to get you a new car, homegirl. Pronto.”
I stubbornly folded my arms. “I guess I’ll let you help me find a new car. Under one condition.”
“Sure. What’s that?”
My lips quirked up into a teasing smile. “Don’t put me in anything as pretentious as your Porsche.”
Porter indeed knew someone at a luxury dealership who got me a great deal on a new car—a fully loaded, steel-gray BMW 740i. He laughed when I told him that BMWs were basically taxis in Europe. Porter said, “Ari, this is no taxi. You’re a grown woman with a grown woman’s job. You need a grown woman’s car.”
Afterward, we said goodbye to Honey. I sold Honey the Honda to his friend Craig for parts. As Craig was writing the bill of sale and looking over the title, Porter squeezed my hand and said, “It’s going to be okay. Your dad knows you love that car. And him.” I nodded. When Porter asked where the first stop in the new ride would be, I told him I had to see Bella and apologize. I’d blown up at her for no reason other than my own frustrations.
During my drive over to Bella’s, I put on the old school R&B station that was playing “Cruisin’” by D’Angelo. I took it as a sign. The original version had been one of my dad’s favorite songs. It was the fitting farewell to Honey.
With the promise of margaritas and tapas, Bella was more than happy to accept my apology and take a ride in my new car. More than anything, it was an escape from the twins who had been driving her crazy. Before getting hammered on Don Julio, Bella insisted we head to the cosmetic store because my new car called for a mini makeover to celebrate. The bright lights of the cosmetic store made me looked washed-out and ashy. I looked at myself in the mirror and winced. Had I not been taking care of myself? Maybe Bella was right. I needed a skin-care routine.
I picked up a shopping basket, headed toward the skin-care aisle, and watched as Bella twirled around, asking the sales associate what shade of lipstick would go best with her new caramel brown hair color.
After picking up an ample amount of toner and moisturizer, I perused the fragrance area. The first bottle I picked up absolutely reeked, smelling of verbena, and what I could only presume was onions. I gagged and looked at the price tag of $200! They were out of their ever-loving mind.
I moved over to the men’s fragrance section and ran my fingers over the brightly colored bottles. Finally, I paused, recognizing the bottle instantly. I picked up the frosty blue glass bottle and smelled. It flooded my mind with images. The smell of Porter’s chest against my nose. His body on top of mine. Brushing up against me and feeling the end of his tie against my hand. I shuddered and held the bottle to my chest. I dropped the bottle of cologne in my shopping basket, deciding to purchase it as a thank-you gift for Porter. For rescuing me, in more ways than one.
Bella stood in line ahead of me, going on and on about how she was so glad to find a particular shade of lipstick and how she wasn’t sure if she’d even have an occasion to wear it. Suddenly, I felt my phone vibrate in my purse. I looked down, and it was Porter. My eyes darted to the bottle of cologne, and I smiled.
“I was just thinking about you,” I said cheerily as I answered the phone.
There was silence. Then, soft crying.
I looked at the phone, making sure that it was the right number. “Porter?” I repeated. My heart raced, the beats thrumming louder in my ears. Bella was waving at me to head toward the sales counter, but I held up a finger, asking her to give me a second. “Porter? Is everything alright?”
“Ari. It’s Todd. He’s...he’s hurt.”
I dropped the basket.
“Bella, I have to go.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Porter
Desmond took a deep breath, put his hands on my shoulders.
“They took him down for X-rays and a CT scan. Kim with him now. Porter, it’s by Jah’s grace that he ain’t kill heself or nobody else. He drove pon a busy sidewalk and hit a utility pole. We ain’t sure, but there may be some internal damage. Your brother is bad off. He wasn’t responsive.”
I felt nauseous. My head was spinning like a top. I leaned up against the wall, bracing myself.
“But he just called me. He wanted me to come to the bar, but I was too tired. I should have gone. I should have driven him home.”
Todd had called me, totally smashed, asking me to come hang with him at the bar with some of his law school buddies. I’d just left Ari and told him I didn’t feel like it. He called me a “pussy” and hung up on me. And that was the last I’d heard from him. Now, guilt was eating me alive that those could have been my last words to him.
My mother finally lifted her head as she clutched her rosary. “Oh, Porter, darling. Don’t blame yourself. This is no fault of yours. Todd got behind the wheel on his own.”
We were still waiting on Kim to come back with news on Todd’s condition. Desmond cradled my mother in his arms. I looked at them. There was a twinge of envy. Even at this moment, I wished I had what they had. The comfort. That person to lean on. I didn’t know where I stood with Ari. Yet, she was the first person I’d called.