Page 27 of Plus One

“We are,” Deb said, pulling Aldonia inside the elevator. “Maybe we’ll see you later.”

“Okay then.” Monique gave them a wave.

Aunt Deb started to say something, but the elevator doors closed on her. Monique sighed and her shoulders sank.

“I love them, but I’m all peopled out.” She sat on the bench where she’d found Maurice earlier that day and pulled a camera from her bag.

In his pockets, his fingers scratched at his thighs with nervous energy. “You’re a photographer?” Maurice asked, standing nearby yet wanting to give her space.

She shifted her bag and herself, making room for him.

He sat.

“Nah. I just take pictures.”

“What do you do with them?”

She shrugged. “Most of the time, nothing. It’s just something I like to do.” She pulled out a tiny spray bottle and microfiber cloth and went about polishing her lens and viewfinder. “I haven’t been able to travel in a while. I would be so pissed if I didn’t get some shots of these gardens.” Her smile held an unrestrained eagerness that made Maurice inch closer.

“Besides, my girls would skin me if I missed this opportunity.”

Her “girls.” She had people.

He must have sat there too long, lost in his head, because Monique stood with a sort of finality.

“Well,” she said, gathering her camera and bag. “I’m gonna get these shots before I lose the light.”

Maurice watched her head back toward the garden but didn’t move to join her.

She paused and turned to him. “You can come if you want. But I’ma be moving slow. It probably won’t be much fun for you.”

There was that word again. “I don’t need fun.”

Monique studied him for a moment. “Oh… kay then. You coming?”

He was at her side in less than ten paces.

Back at the edge of the dining room, Monique squatted near the wrought iron gate and angled herself to and fro.

He held her bag and watched her work. The way she bit her bottom lip as she found her shot was one of the most interesting things he’d ever seen. The shutter clicked again and again, accompanied by the trickle of the fountain. The canopy of palms filtered the setting sunlight in a way that looked like golden lace. Tiny flecks on her skin fractured the light like diamonds. Did she know she sparkled?

“Now, Mo,” she said, adjusting her position and pressing the shutter button, “don’t make it weird.”

Part of his job was to study people. That’s what he’d go with.

She gripped the gate and pulled herself up to stand. “Tommie and the Aunties are plotting. And…” She swayed, her sharp gaze wobbling.

Maurice rushed to her side. “Are you okay?” He held her elbow.

Monique gripped his forearms, steadying herself. “Sometimes I forget that my body doesn’t follow directions very well.” Her eyes drifted closed, and she took a few deep breaths before looking up at him. Those deep brown eyes of hers held volumes of information that Maurice was suddenly desperate to read.

His speeding pulse, he was certain, could be felt under Monique’s grip, but he didn’t want her to stop touching him.

She licked her lips.

His watch buzzed, making him jump.

CHAPTER 8Monique