I swallowed and tried not to fidget. How was I supposed to respond to that, especially with Marie burning a hole through me with her eyes? And it didn’t help that my family was watching us like they were watching a movie on the big screen.
“I heard you were home for good,” Consuela said, “so I brought you a present. Something I’ve been holding onto for quite a long time. Something I should have given you years ago.”
“Really?” That was a surprise, considering she never wrote to me once while I was locked up.
“Really,” she said with a mysterious grin on her face. “Nevada,” she called out, turning her head to the side as if she was speaking to someone behind her.
That’s when I looked over her shoulder and noticed a boy stepping out of the pool He wasn’t a little kid like my niece and nephew. He was a teenager. He was a tall, wiry, athletic-looking kid, wearing a pair of USA swim trunks. What really made my heartbeats pause and my mouth drop open was what else he was wearing. The young man was wearing my face. He looked exactly like me. Not a younger image of me, but who I looked like at that given moment.
“Yes, Mother,” the boy said as he went and stood by Consuela.
“Nevada,” she said to him, “this is the man I’ve been telling you about all these years.” She turned and looked in my eyes as she said to her son, “This is Vegas, your father.”
“Well, there ain’t no denying that one,” Paris joked to Rio loud enough for all of us to hear.
She’d only verbalized what I felt, what I knew the moment I laid eyes on him.
“Poppa.” A huge smile spread across his face. “It’s so good to finally meet you.” He came over to me, and we just stood there staring at each other, until he threw his arms around me.
I didn’t know what to do. I slowly raised my own arms. Was I supposed to hug him back? I looked to my mother for answers. She was smiling just as hard as the boy was. My mother’s hands were clasped together, as if a prayer had been answered and she was thanking God. I placed my arms around his back.
I looked to Consuela. She was smiling, too, as she placed her hand on her son’s—our son’s—shoulder. Then I looked over to Marie, who raced away from the patio with tears streaming down her face.
I watched London chase after her, thankful for the assist, because once I held him, I did not want to let my son go.
Sasha
39
“Fuck!” I shouted in frustration. Being tied up in a room for days, mostly by myself, had begun to wear on me. It didn’t help matters that the only time I saw anyone it was one fine-ass man after the next. And those Muslim brothers had willpower, let me tell you. Every time they came in the room, they acted like they were immune to the power of the *, and that shit just turned me on even more.
Okay, so maybe the average girl in my situation wouldn’t be thinking about sex, but I am no average woman. I might have gotten a late start at the age of nineteen, but once I’d gotten my first taste, I’d been addicted to dick. Now here I was in the presence of all these strong, red-blooded black men, and not one of them appeared to be thinking about sex in the least—with the exception of Brother X, and even he backed down at the last minute. It was enough to drive a nymphomaniac like me crazy.
I was busy conjuring up yet another gang-bang fantasy in my head when Elijah walked in with his fine self.
“I hope this is sufficient.” He was carrying a bag of something that smelled so damn good my stomach started doing backflips. It also smelled familiar.
He opened the bag and laid the takeout containers on the table in front of me. When he popped the lid on the carton, I understood why it smelled so good.