Page 26 of Double

“He told you about her?”

“A little.”

“Bitch broke his heart.”

That was news, but I kept my face blank so she wouldn’t know that she was dropping tea.

“I’ll be right back,” she told me, standing from the table and walking into the back area of the store.

When she returned, she had about ten rings. Only a few were sapphires, most were diamonds or gemstones. She displayed them for me, explaining that they were for cut purposes. She asked me to pick my favorites. She would then show my favorites to Double, and he would select the one he would present to me.

“This way, you get a ring you love, and it still gets to be a surprise.”

I loved the idea, so I picked my four favorites. Once I’d chosen, Summer and Antonius switched places. He sat down across from me and showed me Double’s three favorite cuts. He favored pavé-set stones, and his gem of choice was the black diamond. The second my eyes fell on the ring with a row of black diamonds sandwiched between two rows of white diamonds, I knew which ring I would choose for him.

Antonius watched my gaze and gave me a smile. “So this one?” He inclined his head toward my ring of choice.

“That one.” I grinned.

“Would you like to have it engraved?”

I thought about it. Engraving was forever. I didn’t know Double well enough to put anything meaningful or specific to the two of us inside of his ring. Besides, our situation wasn’t permanent. “That can be done at a later date, right?”

“Yes,” Antonius assured me. “It can.”

“Good. I would like some time to think about it.”

“Your rings will be ready on Saturday afternoon.”

In three short days, I would wear the symbol that told the world that I belonged to Double. I’d spent my past hating the fact that my father treated me like property—like I belonged to him. I wasn’t sure why the thought of belonging to Double made butterflies act up in my stomach.

10

Showing My Wife the Family Business

Double

I spent a lot of time with my grandfather while I was growing up. Because of that, a lot of my ways mirrored his. He was more of a listener than a talker. I was the same. When people presented him with problems, he presented them with solutions. I was solution-oriented as well. Big Hill was my idol, growing up, and I wanted to be just like him. Anything he did, I was like a shadow on his ass.

As I aged, I realized that my grandfather was merely a man with shortcomings and flaws like any other man. He was moving through life, learning as he went—just like everybody else. While that knowledge made me put my youthful hero-worship of him in perspective, it didn’t diminish my respect and/or admiration of him. There were still ways that I emulated him—his loyalty, his calm demeanor, his gentlemanly ways when it came to women, and his style of dress.

Big Hill always believed in looking the part. He couldn’t relate to the current fashion trend of being perpetually casual. He favored suits, and so did I. So, as I watched Tinsley descend the stairs toward me on Monday morning, her thick-ass, café au lait-colored thigh visible from the split in her skirt, I adjusted the sleeve of my suit jacket.

My eyes never left her as I took in the chocolate-brown plaid skirt, the brown turtleneck that clung to her sizable breasts, and the item I most looked forward to viewing since Saturday—her sparkly blue wedding ring. She matched my fly, and I liked that.

I didn’t think she was wearing makeup, because every one of her numerous freckles was visible. I liked her freckles. They were unique and gorgeous. If she ever gave me daughters, I wanted every single one of them to be a replica of their beautiful mother.

Too far, bro, the voice inside my head told me.

Tinsley gave me a smile. That was when I noticed that her full lips were slathered in shiny gloss. “Good morning.” She stopped before she got to the bottom step. “You must be the boss, boss. You’re wearing a suit.”

“Good morning.” I met her at the stairs, taking her hand and leading her down to the landing. “I always wear a suit to work. You gotta look the part.”

“And that, you do.” She gave me an appraising look, her eyes as bright as the smile on her face.

“Thanks.” I lightly kissed her on the forehead. “You ready, brown-eyed girl?”

“Almost.”