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“Brown Sugar,”Desiree answers. “Meekah was saying it’s playing at Hollywood Forever. They don’t usually have movies this late in the year, but it’s like a one-time showing.”
“It’s always been weird to me,” Meekah comments with a little shudder. “Watching movies at a cemetery.”
“Brown Sugaris showing?” I ask, now fully tuning back in. “I actually might check that one out.”
I sense Monk’s peripheral scrutiny and turn to meet his eyes.
“What?” I ask cautiously.
“Nothing.” He shrugs, an unguarded grin making him look like the Monk of years ago. “Just thinking about you watching that movie over and over again, mouthing every word.”
“Noteveryword.” I actually giggle. “Just that scene after Taye and Sanaa have sex, or as they called it, ‘getting busy.’”
“Andalsowhen Taye Diggs’s character catches his wife with Richard Lawson,” Monk says, giving the name the same inflection Taye did.
“‘My divorce!’” he and I quote at the same time, sharing a long look and a good laugh.
“Sooooooo,” Meekah says, eyeing us both closely. “I gather you like the movie, too, Monk.”
Monk shrugs, his amusement dimming. “Sentimental value, I guess.”
I lost count of how many times I made him watch that movie with me. I saw us in those characters. The girl, a writer, and a guy in the music industry, striving to make their way. Those Sunday afternoons in his apartment—listening to music, watching movies, with making love as the intermission—were some of the best of my life.
“You ready?” Desiree turns to me. “You promised we’d celebrate.”
“Of course.” I steady myself with a palm against the wall to slip my heels back on. “It’s your night, doll.”
I offer Meekah a polite smile. “And your night, too. Congratulations. You really did steal that scene.”
“Guess I’ll see you on set Monday,” Monk says.
“Wait.” Desiree gapes. “Are you doing the Canon Holt movie, too, Monk?”
“Yup.” He slips his elbow into the crook of Meekah’s.
“Really cool for you guys to be working together,” Desiree comments. “After all these years.”
After all these years.
The words replay in my head once we part ways with Monk and Meekah. After I have dinner with my old friend. While I’m in bed, staring up at my ceiling and recalling the intoxicating scent that hung around Monk tonight, sandalwood and sentiment. The jolt to my system when I’m around him; the shock of attraction—I can’t deny it’s still there.
After all these years.
So much has changed, but I’m beginning to accept that some things never do.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Monk
Rarely have I felt more ridiculous than I do right now, scanning the crowd on the Hollywood Forever lawn. Seems like everybody and their mama is out for the one-time showing ofBrown Sugar.
The idea planted itself in my head like a bad seed last night. Meekah bludgeoned me with questions as soon as Verity was out of earshot.
“Is that her?” Meekah demanded.
“Is that who?”
“Verity Hill. That vibe you guys got going on is like a neon light. Is she the reason you could never get serious about any woman I’ve ever known you to date?”
