The Right Side of Reckless Read online

  I wanted to have a good time, but I wanted it to simply be a good time.

  Please, no sex talk, I pleaded silently as I finished primping in the mirror that night. All I wanted was to celebrate our one year together without any obligations.

  That wasn’t asking for too much, was it?

  “Regan, he’s here!” my father called up to me from the landing.

  A text came through on my phone from Malika at the same time. My stomach momentarily stopped flip-flopping around, comforted at the sight of my best friend reaching out.

  Have fun tonight with the quarterback

  All sense of anxiety washed away as I managed a chuckle. She knew Troy was a running back.

  With one last look in the mirror, I forced a smile on my face to ease the tension. I had curled my hair, put on a nice dress and comfortable wedge heels that were suitable for dancing.

  It was time.

  “You look like this is your first date.”

  Behind me I found my mother entering my room, appearing amused at my nervous state.

  If only she knew.

  “This is a big night for you, relax, breathe, you’ve gone out hundreds of times before,” she told me as she came over and assessed my look. “You look amazing, honey.”

  I stood back so she could really get a good look at me. “Is this too much?”

  My mother waved me off. “Oh no, you are stunning. Troy’s going to think so, too.”

  She went on downstairs as I finished checking my appearance in the mirror. With one final breath, I turned out my light and stepped out of my room.

  Down the hall, I spotted the light on in Avery’s room. He wasn’t downstairs with my family and Troy. I took a moment and poked my head in, finding him lying across his bed, lost in a video game. Last night, he’d gone to the movies with Guillermo and Jenaya, which seemed completely out of character for him.

  I’d been so wrapped up in planning for my date, I hadn’t asked about his night. “How was the movie?”

  Avery jumped, startled at my appearance in his doorway. He paused his game. “Intense.”

  “Intense?” I repeated, confused. “What did you see?”

  He shrank back, his gaze going to the carpet. “Never mind.”

  Something was off. I slipped into the room, closing the door behind me. “What’s wrong, Ave?”

  He faced me, frowning. “Don’t tell Mom, okay?”

  Something was off. “Promise.”

  “At the movies, there were these guys,” he admitted. “One was messing with Jenaya, trying to get her number. She said no, and he got mean.”

  Typical. There was nothing worse than guys who couldn’t take rejection and did a complete 180 and turned into jerks. “Is she okay?” I’d seen her at school today and she’d seemed her usual self.

  Avery wouldn’t look at me.

  “Avery?”

  “Promise not to tell Mom?” he asked again.

  I went closer. “I won’t tell.”

  Slowly, he looked up at me. “Mo...sorta lost it. The guy called Jenaya out of her name and Mo...snapped. One minute the guy was talking, and the next, Mo had him yoked up.” Avery shook his head. “It didn’t get too far before security stepped in, but Mo definitely had the guy about to piss his pants.”

  I froze, unsure how to respond. A temper. Guillermo had a temper. Protective, sure, but this was something that would definitely be a red flag for my mother, if she knew he was lashing out like that.

  “The guy was being rude, Rey,” Avery went on. “I should’ve said something, too.”

  Avery was sweet to want to protect Jenaya’s honor, and I guess, in a way, I understood Guillermo’s reaction. It was nice he cared enough for Jenaya to step in on her behalf. Still, was this why he was on probation? For being violent? Yesenia had said he was bad before, different, enough to entirely disrupt the atmosphere of their household.

  “I’m glad it didn’t get crazy,” I said.

  Avery bobbed his head. “Me, too. Mo’s no joke, that’s for sure.”

  Guillermo always seemed so nervous, hesitant. Now, I knew why.

  Should I tell my mother? For his own good? To keep him in check?

  The image of his wounded eyes came to mind. His stiff, uncertain shoulders as he stood in my foyer the night before as I’d come downstairs and set eyes on him.

  My breath grew wings and flew out of my chest. Guillermo. He seemed so lost, so unsure, so broken.

  I couldn’t tell. Nothing had happened, and hopefully, nothing else would.

  “I gotta go,” I said.

  “Have fun on your date,” Avery offered.

  “Thanks.”

  Down on the first floor, Troy was waiting in the TV room. He sat with my father and mother watching something on ESPN. Tanner was asleep at the edge of the coffee table, a stolen polka-dotted sock of mine sitting under his paw. The thief.

  At my arrival, Troy immediately stood. “Whoa, Rey, you look beautiful.”

  His eyes took in my figure in my little red dress, and I watched as they tripled in size. The dress was loose enough, but there was no hiding my cleavage or the amount of leg on display. When I’d been debating on what to wear, I’d feared the dress would make me look like a tease, but in the end, I decided that it was simply a cute dress and Troy would appreciate it.

  “Ahem.” My father cleared his throat as Troy made his way to me. “Pick your tongue up off of the floor, boy. And don’t keep her out too late.”

  Troy recovered quickly and grinned. “No problem, Mr. London. I’m just taking Regan out to House of Solé, and then a little dancing at After Hours.”

  “You be careful,” my father warned. “Some fools don’t know how to act at these clubs nowadays.”

  His words brought me back to Guillermo. And suddenly, I was thankful for him, thankful someone cared enough to protect Jenaya.

  Troy placed a protective arm around me. “Always, sir. Regan’s in good hands, believe that.”

  I never questioned this. Troy was both strong and popular, I knew he could protect me physically if need be, and I knew due to his fame, no one would want an issue with him.

  Troy took me under his arm and soon led me out of the house and to his car.

  He opened my door for me, helped me inside before closing it shut behind me.

  My nerves were out of control, and I desperately tried to tame them for fun’s sake. It was just dinner and dancing, some well-deserved fun after our first year together. Nothing more and nothing less.

  “Ready?” Troy flashed me a smile as he climbed in alongside me.

  I nodded, trying to match his excitement.

  He put on the radio, and I spent the majority of the drive trying to decipher whatever it was the rapper was mumbling around the catchy beat.

  “I’ve been dying to go to this place,” I spoke up as the downtown restaurant came into view. “Thank you, Troy.”

  My boyfriend sat back coolly as he drove for the parking area. “No problem. This night is special,” he insisted, reaching out and squeezing my knee.

  This night was special; my first boyfriend was taking me out to celebrate our first anniversary. A lot of kids, their relationships didn’t last ten minutes at our school.

  Maybe Troy was the one.

  Continuing to be a gentleman, he helped me out of the car and held my waist as he steered us to the restaurant’s entrance.

  “Right this way,” the hostess said as she gestured for us to follow her.

  The restaurant was full of an older crowd, which I didn’t mind. Soft jazz music played throughout, and portraits of iconic figures in the Black community hung on the walls, from Malcolm X, Dr. King to Louis Armstrong and more. Not only that, each portrait was done in the style of a newspaper article, making them look vintage.

  �
��Oh wow, I love it,” I commented as I took in the decor. The warm smell of soul food filled the air, reminding me of my grandmother’s kitchen growing up during family visits for Sunday dinner.

  Troy barely looked around before agreeing. “Yeah, it’s nice.”

  We sat across from each other at a small, intimate table. Our server came and gave us a glass of water each with a lemon wedge. When she left us to scour the menu, I focused on what all House of Solé had to offer.

  “Damn, it all sounds so good,” Troy said. “I’m starving.”

  I was a mixture of hungry and nervous. On one hand, all the food sounded delicious; on the other, I was still on edge about where our date would go.

  In the end, I settled on the chef’s plate, a house special, while Troy decided on Harlem jambalaya.

  “My mom keeps talking about having a big dinner and inviting you over,” he said. His smile was fond, making me relax a little. Our families were close due to my aunt and his uncle’s business connection. Our relationship was yet another link. His parents loved me, and sometimes Tommy J even referred to me as Big Sis.

  “I do miss your mom’s cooking,” I admitted.

  “Who you telling? Next year, when I’m in school, it’s all I’m gonna be thinking about,” Troy said as he sat back. “I’ve been on a few college visits and some of them places ain’t cuttin’ it. Or they’re surrounded by fast food, and you know I only eat that once in a while.”

  Troy was a machine, built and trained to dominate on the football field. He didn’t really drink, never smoked, and he barely ate greasy food.

  The topic of conversation made me feel curious. “Have you decided where you want to go?”

  He brightened under the spotlight I’d placed on him. “Miami would be nice, the beaches, the weather...” The girls. “It would be like a permanent vacation.”

  “That’s a lot of distance.” For the first time, I wondered if Troy would be faithful while he was away at school.

  He was faithful now... I hoped.

  He placed his hand on mine. “We can handle it. It’s you and me till the top, right?”

  “And once you get there?” I asked, playing coy, but seriously curious.

  “And then we enjoy the ride. You’re my backbone, Rey. I need you. Things won’t be right without you in my corner.”

  It was nice to feel needed and appreciated, but something still felt off.

  I forced myself to smile and let it go. “Can’t wait.”

  Soon, our food arrived, and talk of the future went out the window as we dug into our meals.

  We both agreed that House of Solé was more than worth the hype. The food was immaculate, spicy, but not too spicy, but what I liked most was that home-cooked taste. It felt like food your grandmother would make. True authentic soul food.

  “Your dad’s talking about me trying to get Avery to play football again,” Troy mentioned as he picked up his glass of water, appearing amused.

  This wasn’t the first time my father had attempted to goad Avery into some sport. I sometimes wondered why Avery never hung out with Raviv Hadad, the cute boy from down the street. They were in the same grade, although Raviv was more outgoing than Avery. He was making waves on the soccer team and always hanging out with the upperclassmen. He had a pretty little girlfriend as well.

  I guessed they just weren’t a personality match. My brother was more introverted than most people. Sports didn’t appeal to him; he’d much rather sit on the sidelines with his head in his manga.

  “Avery doesn’t like football,” I told Troy. “I wish my dad would leave it alone.”

  “Your pops just wants Avery to get out there more.”

  Suddenly I felt defensive for my brother. If he didn’t want to step out of his shell on his own, what good was it to force him out? There was nothing wrong with Avery choosing to read instead of play sports. “Let him be, he’ll come around to whatever he loves in the end.”

  Troy made a face and said nothing, but even his silence irritated me. So Avery wasn’t like Tommy J. There was no harm in being a loner.

  I relaxed when I thought of Guillermo, how he and Avery seemed to have formed a bond as they continued to eat lunch together with Jenaya. Somehow, he’d gotten Avery out of the house. Avery had had the biggest grin on his face when I’d caught him racing up to his room to grab his shoes the night before.

  Guillermo.

  Protector of Jenaya and gentle with Avery.

  A guy like that, there was no way he was a bad egg.

  Dessert came, and I’d chosen peach cobbler while Troy hadn’t wanted anything. He was Mr. Serious about his body, claiming that the jambalaya had been enough.

  “Well, how is it?” he asked after I’d eaten a few bites.

  The savory sweet tartness of the warm peaches and sugary, flaky crust was a perfect finale after the incredible meal. “Oh my God, it’s amazing. Almost as good as your mom’s.” Mrs. Jordan’s cobbler was to die for. I’d walk through ten miles of snow just to get a plate of her peachy goodness. But this was close.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t pumped her for the recipe yet.”

  I wasn’t much of a cook, but that wasn’t a bad idea. I moaned a little as I took my last bite. “This is heaven.”

  Troy sat watching me, purely entertained. “Doesn’t take much to make you happy.”

  It didn’t. All I truly needed was a peaceful escape most days from all the pressure and obligation I dealt with. I just wanted to be myself, and here with Troy, it felt possible.

  The bill came and Troy paid quickly before coming around the table and escorting me out of the restaurant and back to his car.

  He didn’t have to drive far, seeing how After Hours was located downtown as well.

  It was the weekend, so the club was packed with college students, kids from the various high schools in the area, and some older crowd.

  No one I knew was at the club, but several people recognized Troy.

  “Aw shit, we got Number Five of the Arlington High Panthers in the building!” the DJ shouted Troy out over the microphone. Those closest to us gave Troy some love, slapping his back and giving him dap. His celebrity never got old to his supporters.

  “What can I say, the people love me,” Troy leaned in close to my ear to say over the loud music.

  It was no surprise. This would only get bigger in time when his success grew in college.

  The DJ put on an urban pop song and Troy and I took to the dance floor. As the singer sang about being “too on,” Troy held me close as we danced with my back to his front. We danced through a few songs, until a sassy Beyoncé record came on.

  “Nah, that ain’t it,” he said of the vibe the song gave off.

  His distaste for the male-bashing song caused me to chuckle. I was a future alumnus of Beyoncé University, where I was fully intending to pledge Beyoncé Delta Knowles. After watching her iconic Homecoming performance at Coachella repeatedly, it was set in stone.

  We made our way to the lounge area. As I sat back against a plush sofa with Troy, a hip-hop/R&B song played in the background. Finally we were alone.

  “You look pretty,” Troy said, leaning closer to my ear to whisper.

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  He took my hand in his. “I can’t wait to get back to my place.”

  Suddenly my meal was threatening to come back up. “Why?”

  Briefly Troy furrowed his brows, as if my question confused him. “So we can be alone and talk, Rey. My parents are out of town.”

  “And...and Tommy J?” I wondered.

  Troy sneaked me a grin. “Don’t worry about him, he’s out with Isaiah and Dane. We’ve got the house to ourselves.”

  I couldn’t meet his eyes, my mind going a million miles a minute, scared of what possibilities were back at his empty house. His parent
s being gone only led me to believe Troy wanted to talk about one thing. The three-letter word still hanging over our heads.

  The last thing I wanted to do was go down that awkward path with Troy.

  “Can’t we talk here?”

  “It’s a little public and loud, don’t you think?”

  My twisting gut told me not to go home with him. I didn’t want to see the disappointed look on his face when I froze up on him—again.

  “I just wanna have a good time,” he tried to reason with me.

  “And this isn’t it?” I asked sourly.

  Troy made a face, almost as though he were exhausted with me. “Yeah, sure.”

  I narrowed my eyes, repeating what he said. “Yeah, sure? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Troy opened his mouth and then shut it.

  Trying to get us back on track, I asked, “Do you want to dance?”

  Troy angled his head, taking in the current song playing before frowning in distaste. “Nah, not trying to hear no female talk about finessin’ a guy for his money.”

  I moved away from him. “Don’t say that.”

  “Say what?” he asked innocently.

  “That word, ‘female,’ it’s insulting.”

  Troy gaped at me as if I were delusional. “How?”

  Ugh. Was it really that hard to get? “What would you call Mike?” I challenged, bringing up one of his friends.

  Troy’s brows furrowed, as if my question were silly. “That’s my boy.”

  “And what about...that girl over there?” I nodded at some girl in a cute pink outfit.

  “That’s a female.”

  I scoffed. “See!”

  “But she is,” Troy insisted.

  It went beyond being definitive. “You don’t call guys ‘males,’ so don’t refer to us as ‘females,’ it’s insulting, Troy. Especially when it’s clear you mean to say ‘bitch.’”

  “It’s really not that deep.”

  Wasn’t the fact that I was offended enough reason to not use it? “Well, it is to me.”

  Troy ran his hand down his face. “It’s like you want me to be a simp or something.”

  “Ah yes, because being nice to a girl and respecting her is simply repulsive.”