Page 151 of Rugger: The Huntress

“Good, because I don’t want to explain myself again.”

“You won’t have to,” Roaman assured me.

“Thanks,” I responded in a milder, less abrasive tone. “Sorry, I just– I’m just hurting. Everywhere. And, I’m not ready. I’m just not ready.”

“That’s okay, babes. We’ll be here every week until you are. Take your time. No one is rushing you,” Rather spoke for the first time. “Should you need me in between time, I am a call away.”

“I know.”

Black women. They were the most beautiful creatures to walk God’s green earth and I had the privilege of being one. Knowing some. And, sharing blood with many. We were everything the world had told us we couldn’t be.

Educated.

Wealthy.

Sophisticated.

Successful.

We were what they didn’t want us to become. Yet, here we were. Thriving in our own right, even while hardships were staring us dead in the face.

When Roaman began her rounds, collecting plates, mine was still half full. I couldn’t stomach any more than I’d already eaten. My social battery had died, but every time I heard laughter from one of my siblings, I was instantly charged again.

“Alright, now, let’s pray this woman doesn’t try to put us out before we can get into our pajamas. You know how she gets,” Rather chuckled, tiptoeing across the room to retrieve a large bag.

I couldn’t help but shrug. It was true. They all knew they were on borrowed time.

“But, in the event she is feeling generous and lets us stay for the movie night I’ve planned, I have us all matching sets.”

“Rome–”

She pulled out a black two-piece for the youngest of the crew.

“Rugger–”

She stretched her arms to hand me a matching set.

“Range. Royce.”

It wasn’t until we were all in possession of our wardrobes that she began pulling out black, furry slippers.

“Fuck you think this is, Rather,The Mansion?”

“A mansion but notThe Mansion. Because, I wouldn’t be putting on clothes. I’d be taking them off and my husband’s hard dick would be waiting for me to sit on it. So, no. I don’t think this isThe Mansion. I think it’s Rugger’s place of residence. For now, at least.”

“Excuse the fuck out of me then,” Roulette retorted with both hands in the air.

“Mine?” I asked, tilting my head toward the slippers in her hand.

“Yes.”

“I’m going to take off upstairs to get changed. I will see you ladies in a few minutes. Please behave,” I warned, making strides toward the steps.

I was prepared to have my head in the toilet bowl. I could feel my food at the top of my stomach, ready to cause turmoil until they were released.

The master bathroom seemed to have moved a mile down the hallway. When I finally made it and kneeled before the toilet, nothing happened. The queasiness had subsided and I felt perfectly fine.

I pressed my back against the counter cabinets, anticipating the moment the discomfort returned. However, eight minutes later, and I was still well. I stood on my feet and met my reflection near the mirror.

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