Page 105 of Vega

I didn’t say anything. Neither did she. We just looked at each other, and we both felt it. She wanted me. She wanted me in the same confusing, dangerous, undeniable way I wanted her. I saw it in her eyes.

She knew I saw it too. That made her roll her eyes before I could say a word. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You came back for me,” I teased.

She lifted her chin. “Saving your life doesn’t mean I forgive you for stealing mine.”

A laugh left me before I could stop it.

She tried to hold her serious face, but her mouth twitched. Then she laughed too, quiet at first, then a little harder.

“Where’d you learn to use a gun like that?” I asked once the laughter settled.

“After I left the group home, I knew I needed something to protect myself.” Her fingers traced the edge of the table absentmindedly. “So, I bought a gun and went to a range. I practiced until my hands stopped shaking.”

“Then why didn’t you use it when I took you?”

“I couldn’t get to my purse,” she said quietly.

I studied her as she spoke. There were so many versions of her; the one who rambled about nerdy facts, the one who was superb in the kitchen, the one who taught herself how to survive because no one else was going to do it for her. And I loved every single one of them.

A few days later, it was officially June and the beginning of Summertime Chi. The sun was finally out, the lakefront was open, everybody in the city had found a reason to be outside. I tagged along with Wise to meet Bishop at Truth on the Beach at 57th Street Beach. Wise was linking with Bishop and his law firm buddies, and I needed a break from the street shit.

Music spilled from the deejay’s speakers while people danced near the patio, between tables, and in front of beach chairs with drinks in their hands. Most of them weren’t dressed for the beach. There were more sundresses, designer slides, fitted tees, gold chains, sunglasses, and fresh haircuts than swimsuits. Most had come for the deejay, and the drinks. Only a handful of folks had actually touched the sand.

I sat beside Wise with Bishop and some of the male lawyers from his firm. A few bottles of liquor sat in a cooler near us. Women were everywhere, and the lake gleamed behind the crowd.

Bishop laughed at something one of his attorneys said, leaning back in his chair. That was Wise’s nigga for real. They had met in college, and somehow, the friendship had survived two completely different worlds. Wise ran with gangsters, killers, hustlers, and men who knew how to make bodies disappear. Bishop’s circle had CEOs, directors, lawyers, and politicians. Bishop had his own defense firm in Bronzeville, but according to Wise, he was still the same nigga who used to borrow chargers and eat other people’s food while studying for the bar.

Bradley leaned toward his chair, following the crowd with his eyes. “Y’all see the one in yellow?”

Wise took a sip from his cup while keeping his attention on the two women dancing near the deejay. One had on a yellow sundress that moved every time her ass bounced to the house music. Her friend wore a floral sundress with the back out.

Wise nodded. “Her friend fine as fuck too.”

Bishop laughed. “That’s what I’m talking about. The sundresses have finally come back out. I was sick of those wrestling suits.”

I barked out a laugh.

Bishop kept going. “I wanna see women dressed like they on vacation in Miami, not getting ready to get in the ring.” He leaned back, smiling as he appreciated the view.

Bradley caught him and laughed. “Don’t sit over there acting single, Bishop.”

“I’m not acting single,” Bishop said.

“You lookin’ though.”

“I got eyes.”

Terrence, another lawyer from the firm, pointed his cup at him. “That’s how it starts. First, you’re looking, then you buying drinks, then you lying to your wife about why your phone always facedown.”

Bishop waved him off. “That’s y’all problem. Y’all weak.”

Bradley grinned. “So, you wouldn’t say anything to the one in yellow?”

“Hell no. Not even if she sat in my lap and started reciting case law.”

We cracked up.