Sek / Omitl
Kimberly looked up from her desk when Caine came through the glass doors. Her fingers paused over her keyboard and she smiled. “He’s on a call but he said to go on back. Can I get you anything? Coffee, water?”
“I’m good.”
He nodded once and turned down the hallway, passing the framed photos on the wall.
Tatum stood at the window with his phone pressed to his ear, his other hand in his pocket. He turned when Caine’s footsteps hit the carpet and pointed at one of the armchairs in front of the desk.
Caine crossed the room and sat, one ankle over his knee, his hands settling onto the armrests. He let his eyes move across the whiteboard on the far wall. The column of brand names was longer than the last time he had been in here, new ones printed in Tatum’s block letters at the bottom of the list, a few with dollar figures beside them, others with question marks.
“Yeah, we’ll circle back after the holiday. Tell your people to have the revisions ready by then.” Tatum pulled the phone from his ear, tapped the screen, and slid it into his back pocket. He crossed to Caine and they dapped up. Tatum dropped into the chair beside him, crossing one leg over the other.
“How are you doing with everything, kid? Starting to feel the pressure?”
Caine snorted a laugh. “I ain’t never been somebody to fold so fuck no. I’m gonna keep doing what I been doing.”
“Good, because what you’ve been doing is making both of us a lot of fucking money.” Tatum’s head tilted a fraction, one corner of his mouth pulling up. “That Balmain add-on is really making up for what we gave up over the summer when the kid was born.”
“I was wondering what that extra shit in my bank account the other day was.”
Tatum’s eyebrows lifted. He leaned forward in the chair, his forearms settling onto his thighs. “Didn’t I tell you that you need to put that in some investment vehicles to start letting your money work for you?”
Caine shrugged. “I invested in some shit here or there.”
Tatum’s mouth flattened into a line. “I’ll tell my guy to give you a call.”
“I ain’t gonna talk to some random white man about my money, Tatum. Another one. No offense.”
Tatum waved off the comment. “He’s Asian anyway.” His eyes went to the whiteboard on the far wall for a beat, moving down the column of names. “Just three games left before the championship. The collective is starting to ask a lot of questions about your future as a Trojan.”
“The Browns are still at the top of the fucking draft board.”
“Not since Monday.” Tatum’s index finger came up off the armrest. “Now, it’s the Jets at one, Cleveland two and Tampa at three.”
“Too bad playing for the Bucs would mean living in fucking Tampa.”
Tatum held his hands up. “They’re some nasty motherfuckers out there. Bunch of old people swinging and shit.” His voice dropped half a register. “Fucking other people’s wives is a young man’s game.”
Caine laughed. “You know about that?”
“I plead the fifth.”
Tatum’s mouth pulled at both corners. He brought his hands together in his lap. “Look, it’s 2028. We’re not in the days when staying in college means giving up money. We can get you up to top five money at SC if you keep playing Heisman-winning football.”
“Ain’t got shit to prove if I win everything this season, though.”
“You’re already that guy at Georgia Southern.” Tatum sat forward. “You win two Heismans and two natties here? You’ll be that guy at USC, too. That’s something. Get your number retired with two programs.”
Caine looked at the whiteboard across the room, his eyes moving down the column of names, the figures and question marks beside them. His thumbnail dragged once along the line of his jaw.
“Until I break my leg against Fresno State next season.”
“That’s why you need to put your money in some fucking investments.”
Caine shook his head and started laughing.
~~~
Mireya held her coffee with both hands, her thumbs pressed against the paper sleeve where the heat came through. Jaslene sat beside her on the bench with her arm resting along the back of it behind Mireya’s shoulders, close enough to be there, far enough not to touch. A jogger passed with earbuds trailing from his collar and behind him a woman pulled a small child by the hand, the child dragging her feet through a patch of shade.
Mireya took a sip and set the cup on her thigh. “How’s work been?”
Jaslene shrugged. “Same old, same old. Stasia got these new girls, Rebecca and Connie. Bitches are so awkward on the stage. Rebecca’s willing to fuck so she makes it up. Connie?” She took a sip of her coffee and swallowed before she finished. “She needs to find another job.”
Mireya’s mouth pulled to one side. “That makes me feel worse that you said I needed to find another job, too.”
“Eso es diferente, mi a—Mireya.”
Mireya looked at her out of the corner of her eyes. “Don’t do that.”
Jaslene’s jaw shifted once. “We’re supposed to just be friends.”
Mireya turned the cup on her thigh, her thumb running along the seam of the sleeve. “No sé por qué quieres alejarme tanto de ti. Things were fine as they were.”
Jaslene’s fingers moved once against the wood behind Mireya’s shoulder. “People evolve and change, situations, too. You’re doing better now than you were then.”
“No, I’m not.” Mireya’s eyes went to the path ahead of them where a woman pushed a stroller through a column of light between two oaks. “I’m losing my fucking mind. All I do is go to class, go home, take care of my babies, repeat.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. That’s okay.”
“You don’t understand.” Mireya turned her head to face her. “Ale, Haylz and Bee still want me around. Why don’t you? Pensé que me querías.”
Jaslene’s eyes held on her. Her coffee rested on her thigh, her other hand wrapped around the cup, the rings on her fingers pressing into the paper sleeve.
“I do. That’s why I’m doing this. I’d rather this than the way you were going.”
Mireya sucked her teeth. “I don’t want to have this conversation again.”
Jaslene held her hand up behind Mireya’s back. “That’s fine. We won’t.” She brought the hand back down to the bench, her fingers settling against the wood. Her coffee came up and she drank from it, her eyes moving to the path ahead of them. “How are you and your girlfriend?”
Mireya rolled her eyes. “She thinks I’m too much of a slut to introduce to her parents.”
“That what she said?”
“Basically. She said I dress like I’m on sale.”
Jaslene’s chin came up a fraction, her head turning back toward Mireya. “You tell her what you did for work?”
“The dancing and stripping. Not the rest.”
“You can’t expect people to know what bothers you if you don’t give them the full picture of why that shit is bothering you.”
“I’m not telling her that I trick.”
“Probablemente deberías dejar de hacerlo mientras estés con ella.”
Mireya shook her head, her hair catching against the collar of her jacket. “This is why I need you. You understand. You get me in a way Ale and them don’t. The way other people don’t.”
“I’m right here.”
Mireya’s eyes held on Jaslene’s face. “Until I try to fuck you then you’re disgusted by me.”
Jaslene’s head turned fully toward her. Her eyes moved across Mireya’s face, from her mouth to her eyes and back. “That’s not true.”
“I’m not trying to have this argument again.”
“Okay.”
Mireya lifted her coffee and took a sip, her eyes going to the path where a man walked a dog with its leash held loose in one hand, the dog pulling toward the grass and the man letting it go.
Jaslene’s hand moved from the bench to Mireya’s back. Her fingers found the strands of hair resting against the collar of Mireya’s jacket and she played with them, slow, lifting them off the fabric and letting them fall and lifting them again. Her thumb grazed the nape of Mireya’s neck on one pass, the touch landing against the skin above the collar and pulling away.
~~~
Autumn had her tray pushed to one side with half a wrap left on it, the lettuce wilting where the tortilla had torn. Jade sat across from her with a container of orange chicken open between her forearms, her fork working through the rice underneath it. The union was full around them, the lunch rush filling the tables in every direction, trays, bags and open laptops crowding the surfaces, voices overlapping from all sides.
Jade pointed her fork at Autumn, a grain of rice still on the tine. “Girl, your man getting us in one of them suites again this weekend?”
Autumn shook her head. “The boosters aren’t giving up their suites for a game against Penn State. I think it’ll just be his mom and his younger daughter up there.”
“I still don’t know how you do that.”
Autumn sucked her teeth. “Can we not keep having this conversation? I’ve been with this man for damn near eight months at this point. Simone drags the shit enough.”
Jade held a hand up. “Alright, girl. I’m just always surprised.” She let the hand drop and stabbed a piece of chicken, chewing it as her eyes moved across the union. She swallowed and sat up straighter in her chair, her shoulders squaring, her fork tapping the rim of the container once before she set it down. “That remind me. I ain’t tell you about my new boo.”
Autumn raised her eyebrow. “When you got a new boo?”
“We been kicking it for a minute, but you know I ain’t to run to make nothing official.”
“Who is it?”
Jade picked her fork back up and pushed a piece of chicken through the sauce, dragging it in a slow line across the bottom of the container. “His name is Garrett Tr—.”
“That white boy who plays baseball here?”
Jade’s fork stopped over the container. She looked up at Autumn, the piece of chicken still on the tine. “Yeah. He’s not my normal type, but he fun.”
Autumn sat back in her chair. “I can’t believe you’re letting a white man fuck you.”
“You don’t have to say it like that.” Jade’s chin dipped a fraction, her eyes leveling across the table. “He ain’t one of them. He grew up around us in Dallas.”
Autumn snorted a laugh. “My fucking ass he did. He just told your ass that to fuck.”
Jade’s jaw shifted once under the skin. “I ain’t gonna say what I want to say.”
Autumn shrugged, her hand reaching for what was left of her wrap and tearing a piece off the end. “I already know what you’re going to say. That’s how old and tired that shit is, and how untrue it is.” She put the piece in her mouth and chewed, her eyes staying on Jade.
Jade set the fork down on the edge of the container and leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing over her chest. “Look, that’s why I ain’t want to just come out and start telling everyone, but things are going well even though he’s a little different than other dudes I’ve fucked with.”
“What do you think is going to happen?” Autumn’s head tilted, her eyes on Jade’s face. “He’s going to get drafted and take you with him?”
“Now you sound jealous.”
“Jealous how? I have a man.”
Jade leaned forward, her forearms pressing flat onto the table on either side of her container, her weight coming off the back of the chair. “What do you think is going to happen? He’s going to get drafted and take you with him? You ain’t the only one who can say that and you the main who shouldn’t be saying that shit at all.”
Autumn’s mouth flattened into a line. “Caine and I are different.”
“Different how? Because you said it is?” Jade’s eyebrows went up, her head tilting to match them. “Bitch, please.”
Autumn held her hands up,. “I’m happy for you even though he’s white.”
“I’m trying to be like Serena Williams, bitch.”
Autumn shook her head, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as the laugh broke through her fingers. Jade was already gone, her body folding forward over the table.
~~~
Caine sat on the porch with his plate balanced in his hand, a drumstick stripped to the bone beside a pile of greens and mac and cheese that he was working through with a plastic fork. Rachaad sat in the other chair with his own plate, his fork scraping the styrofoam as he dragged it through the last of the cheese.
Caine pulled a piece of chicken off the bone with his teeth and chewed, his eyes on the block. Rachaad leaned back in his chair, his plate tipping on his knee, and stabbed his fork into a piece of chicken thigh.
Nap came up the sidewalk from the far end of the block, his stride easy, his hands coming up when he saw them on the porch.
Rachaad raised his free hand. Nap came up the steps and dapped Caine first then Rachaad. He stepped back and leaned his shoulder against the post at the top of the steps, one foot crossed over the other at the ankle, his hands going into his pockets.
“I ain’t seen y’all down here in a lil’ minute.”
Rachaad set his fork on his plate. “All them fucking away games, man. We been two, three days a week in LA before hopping on a plane for a month.”
Caine nodded. “Facts. Whoever made the schedule was on some fuck shit.”
Nap laughed. “That’s what happens when y’all want to ball, lil’ homies. Y’all can come out here and work a regular job like the rest of us niggas and then you won’t have to fly all over the country.”
“I did my time on the block.” Caine set the stripped bone on the edge of his plate. “I’m gonna take the plane.”
Nap shook his head but the laugh was still in his face, his mouth pulling at both corners. Rachaad grinned and picked his fork back up, going after the greens.
Rachaad chewed, swallowed, and pointed his fork at Nap. “Where Sevino been? My grandma said his baby mama moved out to Santa Monica a couple weeks back. He get arrested?”
Nap’s mouth leveled. His weight shifted against the post. “Nah, Sevino got shot. He fucked up, but he alive.”
“Y’all know who?”
“Them Fruit Town niggas. Caught him on the wrong side of the ave.”
Caine looked up from his plate. “Ain’t they Bloods, too?”
“Everybody politicking, lil’ homie.” Nap’s hand came out of his pocket and gestured down the block. “They trying to run all this shit.”
Caine shook his head. “I ain’t never going to understand how all this shit work out here.”
“West Side gonna parlay with them and see if they can smooth it over but I ain’t optimistic ’bout the shit if I’m being honest.” Nap’s hand went back into his pocket.
Rachaad’s fork had stopped over his plate. “So, y’all gonna hit one of theirs?”
Nap shrugged, one shoulder lifting against the post. “That’s how the shit go if that’s how the shit go.”
Caine’s fork pressed into the mac and cheese on his plate. He held it there for a beat, his eyes on Nap. “I might have a way for y’all to make some more money if y’all end up going to war.”
Nap’s chin came up. “Shit, I’m listening.”
“Some of my potnas from back home. They dealing with some other shit so I don’t know when it’s gonna be.”
“Just hit me up.”
Caine nodded. “I will.”
Nap held his eyes for a beat then dipped his chin once.
Nap pushed off the post and straightened, his hands coming out of his pockets. He dapped Caine up then moved to Rachaad and did the same. “Y’all be easy, lil’ homies. Stay safe in these streets.”
He went down the porch steps and across the yard,. He hit the sidewalk and turned back the way he’d come, his hands going into his pockets again, his shoulders rolling once as he walked.
Rachaad watched Nap until he turned the corner then looked back down at his plate. He stabbed a piece of chicken and held it on the fork without lifting it. “I ain’t know you were selling dope, nigga.”
“I don’t sell shit.” Caine scraped the last of the mac and cheese off the styrofoam. “My potna just asked me a question and I made the connection.”
Rachaad snorted a laugh. “Don’t let them NFL GMs hear that shit. You’ll end up like that Sorsby nigga.”
Caine shook his head. “Except I ain’t fucking trash like him.”
Rachaad laughed. “This goofy ass nigga.”
~~~
Sena sat with her back against the cushion of the couch, her hands in her lap, one thumb rolling the seam of her jeans between her fingers. Across the rug, Celia had her notebook open against her knee.
Sena’s eyes moved from the rug to Celia’s face. “Is it wrong that I think it would be easier for me to come out if I was single or if I was with someone like Alex instead of Mireya?”
Celia’s pen shifted between her fingers. “Why do you think that?”
“If I were single, I’m only telling my parents one thing, I’m only into other women. There’s no ‘Also, this is the specific woman that I’m with.’ It’s just cleaner.”
Celia’s head tipped a fraction. “You can have those conversations at two different times. Everything doesn’t need to come out all at once.”
Sena shrugged. Her thumb found the seam of her jeans again, the fabric rolling between her finger and thumb. “I figure it would just be easier to do it together. That way while they’re still figuring out if they hate me for being a lesbian, I can just sneak in that I’m also actually with a woman.”
“Do you think they’ll hate you? Have they given you any indication that they’d be against you being a lesbian?”
“No, but we’ve never talked about that in any way so I’m just assuming.”
Celia smiled. “You know what they say about assumptions.”
Sena’s breath came out through her nose. “Right. But I already told them I’m with someone anyway so I have to fix that lie.”
“Right, you told them Rey when you meant Mireya. And you just said that you think this would be easier if you were with someone like Alex. Why do you feel that way?”
Sena’s thumb stopped on the seam of her jeans. Her eyes went past Celia to the watercolor on the wall behind her shoulder, the cordgrass bending to one side, the water pulled back to mudflat, the wash of sky above the reeds. “Mireya is just a lot. She’s… I don’t know how to put it. Maybe that she’s an acquired taste.”
“From what you’ve told me, she has a very specific way of behaving that I would agree wouldn’t sit right with everyone. That doesn’t answer why you think someone else would make things easier, though.”
“She’s just so stubborn. She doesn’t bend to make things easier.”
“Do you expect her to?”
Sena’s jaw shifted once. She pulled her eyes off the watercolor and brought them back to Celia’s face. Her hands resettled in her lap, her fingers lacing together, thumbs pressing. “I asked her if she could dress more modestly if she met my parents.”
Celia’s chin dipped a fraction. “I could see why that would be a point of tension. How did she respond?”
“Like Mireya does.” Sena’s laced fingers tightened, the knuckles pressing against each other. “Hot then cold then nothing then acting like it didn’t happen. The way she ends arguments? It’s so unsettling. It throws you off.”
“How does she end arguments?”
Sena’s hands unlaced in her lap. She pressed her palms flat against her thighs, fingers spread. “Touching your face or neck, saying something or asking a question then walking away.”
She looked at Sena over the top of the notebook, her posture shifting forward a fraction in the chair. “That’s dominance behavior. The touch, especially on your neck.” She held Sena’s eyes. “Does she get violent with you?”
Sena shook her head. “She doesn’t even raise her voice. Even with the girls.”
Celia let a beat pass, then another. “I got you. It sounds like you’re between a rock and a hard place with all of this.”
Sena nodded. Her hands were still laced in her lap, her thumbs pressed together, the pressure turning the skin pale at the nail beds. Her eyes moved to the rug between them.
“Yeah, I fucked up.”
~~~
Mireya sat in the leather chair with her hands on her knee, one leg over the other, her weight settled into the back of the seat. Fernanda sat across from her, her posture mirroring Mireya’s.
“Do you have kids?”
Fernanda nodded. “I have one. He’s thirteen.”
“You know what no one ever tells you about having kids? How used to saying the same thing over and over again you have to get. We’re going to LA this weekend for Caine’s game and I swear Camila asks me if we are every fucking hour, on the fucking hour.”
Fernanda smiled, the corners of her mouth pulling up. “That short term memory is really the bane of every parent’s existence. Especially when they’re Camila’s age.”
Mireya nodded to herself, her mouth opened and closed once before she spoke.
“Sena told me I dress like a slut the other day.”
“Is that what she said or is that what you heard?”
“She said I dress like I’m on sale.”
“You do, because you are.”
“You didn’t have to say it like that.”
“It’s the truth. You say it yourself.”
Mireya shrugged.
Fernanda let a beat pass, her eyes steady on Mireya’s face. “Are you ready to talk about where your relationship with sex and your body comes from?”
Mireya sighed, the air leaving her through her nose. Her eyes moved past Fernanda to the photograph on the wall behind her shoulder. The beach, the cart, the corn. She looked at it for a beat longer than she had before in any of their sessions, then brought her eyes back to Fernanda’s face.
“His name was Rafael. Everyone called him Rafa, though. Because of course they fucking did.”
Fernanda raised an eyebrow. “Who’s name was Rafa?”
“The first person I had sex with.”
Fernanda nodded. “Was that not a positive memory?”
Mireya snorted a laugh, the sound coming through her nose. Her thumb pressed harder against her knee. “I mean, he was like twenty-one.”
Fernanda’s eyes widened “Oh. That’s—”
“Illegal.”
Fernanda nodded. “Right.”
Mireya uncrossed her hands then folded them back over the opposite way. “He worked with Kike and my Tio Luis, doing construction. Him and Kike were close, basically the same age and shit. He started coming around with Kike, hanging around the family. One day, he told me I was pretty. You know how the rest of it goes.”
Fernanda’s posture shifted forward a degree in the chair, her weight coming off the back of it. “You were vulnerable to that because of your relationship with your mother deteriorating at that time in your life.”
“I agreed to it.”
“You couldn’t have agreed to it.”
“I guess.” Mireya’s right hand came up. Her thumb found the corner of her mouth, the pad of it resting against her lower lip. “Anyway, once we did it once, he’d only talk to me if he could fuck me. Outside of Angela and Paz, I ain’t have too many friends. Family hot and cold because of Maria. So, I did it.”
Fernanda nodded, her lips pressed into a flat line. “I see. What happened to him? Did you ever tell anyone?”
Mireya shook her head. “Kike knew. I guess Rafa told him.”
“The same Kike who has been trying to have sex with you for years.”
Mireya nodded.
“Do you think it’s related?”
Mireya shrugged. Her thumb pressed once against her lip and then her hand dropped back to the armrest. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter now. Rafa got deported after like six months of that. I assume he’s still in Mexico now.”
Fernanda held the silence for a beat, then another. “So, you were groomed and raped and didn’t get the closure of justice.”
“I agreed to it.”
“You couldn’t have.”
Mireya’s eyes moved to the photograph on the wall. Her jaw worked once.
“Right. But that’s how I figured out the easiest way to get attention. Until I met Caine.”
Fernanda’s head tipped a fraction. “How was Caine different?”
Mireya’s eyes came back from the photograph. “He keeps sticking around. No matter what I do.”
She did some shady shit when she picked up Camila, but gaslighting??? 
It is not a ridiculous request to ask your significant other to dress correct when meeting their parents
