Page 16 of Alpha Bait

Jamal nodded, "Yes. It would be."

"Screw you, Jamal."

"Who you marry matters, Indie."

"So what? I can't be a lesbian because of the family image?"

"Yes."

"That's bigoted, Jamal."

He shrugged, "It wouldn't matter if you were one of our cousins."

"It doesn't matter now."

"I only want what's best for you Indie. Any dirt on you, any wrong move could have devastating results for our business."

"Our business, or for yours?"

Jamal clenched his jaw and I knew I was venturing into sensitive territory where it would be too easy to piss him off.

"You know what I mean, Indie."

"I don't see what my love life has to do with anything."

"We're part of the richest black family in America. All eyes are on us at all times. In the city, it's even worse. We don't need a scandal."

"I don't intend to have one."

"Good," Jamal grunted, "I need whiskey."

He stalked off, leaving me alone at the top of the balcony. Whatever. Jamal could be pissy but at the end of the day, he had no right to be a homophobe and no right to tell me who I could and couldn't date. It was 2018. I was a grown woman -- my own woman.

The party reached a rowdy crescendo below and I left my observation post on the balcony to join the surge of dancers, beer drinkers, and friends. I'd spotted my friend Therèse Freeman, a college girl friend who I hadn't seen since before I'd left for Bali.

I waltzed down the stairs with my mask off. When I got to the base of the stairs and scanned the crowd, I saw a man seated at the bar who I didn't recognize from anywhere. For a few seconds, I froze, trying to place the face. There were familiar aspects to his jawline. Once I realized I'd been staring too long, I tried to look away but it was too late.

Mr. Seersucker suit waved. He wore a white mask, like the one in the Phantom of the Opera. Funny. I slipped my mask on and attempted to find an escape through the crowd after I waved awkwardly in response. He beckoned me over to him and I shook my head. Before I could find an escape and dash away from an uncomfortable conversation, he pushed his way through the crowd.

With his height, pushing through a convulsing crowd posed no difficulty.

"Hi," his rumbling bass voice carried over the noise of the party with ease.

"Hello."

"I saw you from across the room. You look beautiful."

"Thank you," I replied, blushing.

"Do you know the family?"

"The Holloways?"

"Yes..."

Before I could respond, a drunk girl stumbled between us cackling like a hyena as she sloshed a full glass of red wine all over my white dress. I shrieked and the girl turned around howling and hooting.

"OHHHH SHIT! I'm SOOOO sorry."

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