Page 58 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

My stomach twists, but I don’t hesitate.

“My parents are separated. My mom lives in Ohio.”

Another half-truth. The bitchisin Ohio, but with her new husband and family. Living a life that doesn’t have space for me. I leave out all the phone calls I’ve made that she didn’t pick up, and the empty excuses and apologies returned to me through text.

He nods. I take a breath, ready to shift the conversation.

“Can I tell you something?” I say, keeping my voice light. “It’s not a big thing, but it might bother you.”

His body stiffens. I have his full attention, and anticipation.

I fold my hands in my lap. “At the cookout…when you made your announcement? It bothered me.”

It’s subtle, but I see it—the quick flash of pain in his eyes before he hides it.

“I looked it up,” I continue, watching him closely. “It’s a huge deal, Ace. And the way your parents reacted? Like you just told them you washed the dishes?” I shake my head. “I hated it. I wish they were more excited for you.”

His shoulders stiffen, but he doesn’t speak. I press on.

“You’re out here building something that’s gonna last. Something people will remember. You should be celebrated for that.” My voice drops into something softer, more intimate. “You’re impressive, Ace. I admire you. I’mproudof you.”

The words sink into him, and I feel his reaction before I see it. His shoulders drop, just slightly. His grip on the steering wheel loosens.

I’ve hit the right nerve.

That pod of orcas doesn’t give him this. They withhold and judge, making him prove himself over and over, and it’s never enough.

But I can be different. I can be what he needs.

He exhales. “You ever think about what you wanna leave behind?”

I’m throwed.

What the fuck is this philosophical shit? This negro really wants to know me. Deeply.

“A legacy,” I say, because that sounds right.

His eyebrows raise as if to encourage me to elaborate. “What kinda legacy?”

Your last name. Obvi.

“Okay, lemme put it a different way,” he says. “What’s your dream?”

Nigga, my dream is to be Mrs. Ace Taylor. That’s it and that’s all. But I can’t say that yet, so I lie again.

“I wanna teach,” I offer with a wistful smile. “High school kids. I wanna help them figure things out before they go out into the world and createtheirlegacy.”

Ooh. That was good.

It didn’t land, though, judging by the tightness on his face.

“With all your Spelman connections, you really couldn’t find a job?”

Fuuuuuuuck.

All these questions.

My pulse quickens as I try to figure a way out of this.

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