Page 29 of Soft On Her
“Patrice. Wake yo ass up! My daughter’s girlfriend done stabbed me,” we heard Mr. Luis on the phone before the door closed.
“I thought he wouldn’t be able to find us?” I wondered aloud.
“Patrice gave us up. I guess the blackmailing didn’t work,” Sneaux’s eyes furrowed as she grabbed her phone.
“Don’t you dare text her husband or Mrs. Ellis. You already put Patrice in a tough position with the man who actually pays her salary,” I coaxed, gently removing the phone from her grasp.
“She lucky I’m soft on you,” Sneaux complained before disappearing into the bathroom.
Just that fast, there was a sliver of sunlight peeking through the curtains. The sun was rising. We slept for at least a few hoursbefore Mr. Luis interrupted our sleep. I extended my arms above my head to stretch while emitting a loud yawn before getting out of bed to find some clothes for us to wear.
When Sneaux exited the bathroom, she was clearly perturbed. I tossed both pairs of jean shorts and two different shirts onto the bed and stepped in her path. Her energy was off, and I hated to see her like that.
“Relax, babe. We’re together, and nothing or no one is going to come between us again,” I smiled, then palmed her cheeks and threw her own words back at her for emphasis. “Now that you’re back in my orbit, nothing and no one will stop me from claiming what’s mine.”
Sneaux smiled, and I pecked her lips. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Always have and always will,” Sneaux expressed.
I continued into the bathroom to get myself together. Sneaux was on the phone with her father when I came back out of the bathroom. They were on speaker while she rubbed sunscreen lotion into her skin. Now that my adrenaline wore off, I was nervous. For so long, I’d resented everyone that was involved with the four families. The last two days with Sneaux made me forget about our bitter past and live in the moment. However, something gnawed at the pit of my stomach, telling me that our lives wouldn’t be so simple.
Sneaux ended the call and stood from the bed. She took my hand in hers before leading the way to Patrice’s room down the hall. The door was unlocked, and we sauntered into the suite that mirrored hers. Sneaux might’ve blackmailed Patrice and put her job on the line, but she was nice enough to ensure she had favorable accommodations on the island. Mr. Luis was hugging the back of a chair while Patrice’s blue gloved hands worked on his back. There was a first aid kit on the table, a small bottle of sterile saline, and an open pack of gauze sprawledacross the table. Mr. Luis winced in pain as Patrice covered the wound.
Sneaux released the grip on my hand and went closer to her father while I leaned up against the edge of the couch across from them. “You sure he doesn’t need to go to the hospital?”
“I told Luis he might need stitches, but he’s just as stubborn as you,” she grumbled as Sneaux walked back over to stand beside me.
“Patrice, yo ass feigning for the unemployment line! You ain’t dumb, you knew Sneaux was up to something when she asked you to file flight plans to Curaçao when y’all were going to Aruba? We were all over that fucking island, and then I remembered Sneaux planning this trip for Milani as a graduation present and tracked my plane down,” he seethed, then snapped his head in our direction. “And you two! How the fuck do you run away on my private jet? I had to charter a jet like I don’t own my own shit! My blood pressure ain’t been this high since y’all were in high school doing all that stupid shit y’all used to do together.”
“We didn’t come down here to indulge in your bullshit. Tell us whatever you came all the way to Aruba to tell us, so we can get back to enjoying our vacation. I’m not going home now, and matter of fact,” Sneaux sassed, unenthused as she grabbed my hand. “We out. I’ll fly commercial when I’m ready to come home.
Her words washed the smile off Mr. Luis’ face, and he stood from the chair, forcing Patrice back. Mr. Luis was always the nicest man, but when he flipped, everything always went left.
“Milani, get the fuck out! NOW!” He demanded, eyes searing into Sneaux as he raised his good arm to point at the door.
“Stop moving your arm so much, you’re going to make it worse,” Patrice pleaded.
“You get the fuck out too!”
Patrice threw her hands up in the air and headed for the door. Sneaux pulled me behind her towards the door, but Mr. Luis darted across the small space, sending the chair he was bracing moments prior tumbling to the floor.
“I really don’t understand how y’all have so much heat for Milani. She should be the one holding a grudge. You and Zechariah grew up together. Y’all were best friends, and when he died, you didn’t even have their back! You chose the four families over what was right!” Sneaux released my hand and turned to face her father.
They shared a face; Mr. Luis’s was just covered in a goatee, and his eyes were darker than Sneaux’s ever could be. I bit into my bottom lip, unsure what to do. The tension in the air was thick.
“Don’t ever play on my top like that. I stand on principles, and you know that! I’ve always known that you secretly placed some of the blame on me. It killed me to eat that shit and not tell you the truth about what happened to Zechariah. The four families choseyouover Zechariah and Janice,” he nudged Sneaux’s shoulder. “I chose you over my childhood best friend, and I’d do it over and over and over again!”
Tears welled up in my eyes as I grappled with the reality of Mr. Luis’ words. I never knew the intimate details of what happened to my father. My mother only told me that he was shot while the four families retaliated against whoever attacked the Black family at Sneaux’s graduation party. I accepted that story for years, but now it sounded like something sinister had happened. Friendly fire. Maybe even Mr. Luis himself. I thought back to the last conversation I had with my father while I drowned the world out.
I stood in front of the floor length mirror on the right side of my room and pulled my waist length knotless braids into a ponytail to see if it looked better up or down with the bathingsuit I planned to wear to Sneaux’s graduation party. We’d been around each other day in and day out since we were in middle school. She’d seen me at my worst, and vice versa, so I wasn’t usually nervous to be in her presence, but that day was different. I came up with the cutest way to confess my feelings and pray she wouldn’t turn me down. The feelings between us were mutual. I was the one holding back, fearful of the scrutiny confirming our feelings would bring. The world was homophobic enough. However, in our close knit circle, same sex relationships were unheard of.
“Milani Dashae Harris!” My father shouted my name before slamming the front door shut.
I rolled my eyes and released the grip I had on my braids. They looked better flowing down my back anyway. Walking over to the dresser, I lifted my lip gloss and applied a generous coat. I’d childishly kissed Sneaux on prom night before rushing into my house before she could say anything, so I knew her lips were as soft as they looked. I planned to do that again before the day was over, but I wasn’t going to run away afterward.
“Milani, I know you hear me! Where are you?” He roared, his agitated tone bouncing off the walls.
“What is he bitching about now?” I mumbled, sauntering over to the dresser to text my driver to pull the car around.
