Page 14 of Ms. V's Hot Girl Summer

“What’s up, man, you good?” We clasped hands, and a rush of goodness trickled through me, attempting to erase the sadness clinging from my nonconversation with my family.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Ma made bandera…shit is fire. Can’t wait to eat. Hope you brought your appetite.”

“Yo! You came through; that’s dope. I thought you were gonna flake on us, knowing you have that early flight.” Brian popped out from a corner, his locs arranged haphazardly in a bun on his head.

“Que escándalo you both have. You’d think he’s the second coming of Christ instead of Orlando. How are you?” Trinidad floated from the kitchen toward the front of the apartment to greet me. She also had her locs in a bun, black yoga pants, and a white tank top.

The back of my neck heated as I studied how fluidly she moved around her place, picking up one of the twins’ backpacks and situating it by the entrance. She picked up a cup of water, walking a ring around her wood table toward a side table with a coaster, then fluffed up the pillows on the sofa. Every time she bent, the fabric of the yoga pants caressed and highlighted that huge, juicy ass that started all the trouble during my showers and had me cleaning the walls every morning. Words tumbled in my head and, without permission, started flowing out of my mouth. This happened every time. Shit.

“What’s up, Ms. V? Looking good today. Thanks for the invite; you know how it goes. Sometimes a man don’t know where he gonna eat, then someone makes that call, and you saved.”Da fuck? I cook.Why did words that make zero sense come out of me the moment she was around?

“Oh, so you have a lot of young ladies inviting you to their apartment for dinner?” Trinidad turned around from fluffing the pillows, giving me a much-needed reprieve to my chest cavity, which valiantly fought to keep my heart in check. I had enough sense to wear the loosest basketball shorts because I already knew what would happen.

And what did she just ask?

“Uhhh…well, sometimes, yea.” I hoped that I had answered correctly, but looking at Brandon’s and Brian’s scowls, I was off.

“Nah, Ma. We’ve told you Orlando is not like that; he doesn’t have a bunch of girls, he don’t play them like that.”

Shit, there I went, talking to talk. This woman always made me forget my poise. It’s as if I reverted to my twenty-year-old self around her.

“Mm-hmm, well, Orlando, I guess I have to believe them. I have no other choice, do I?”

“I mean, you could believe me when I tell you I’m a chill dude, but I know you’re not buying that, are you?” My right eyebrow rose with a mind of its own, taunting Trinidad with a swag I seldom showcased. But that wasn’t what I wanted to showcase, damn it.

“You guessed right; I’m thankful that you try to temper your escapade stories for the sake of my boys’ innocence, though. I do see that. Come on over to the kitchen; the table is already set. Miranda is in there too.”

Trinidad granted me a mild smile and turned around, the sway of her hips and ass hypnotizing me once more, ensuring I followed. I tried my best to keep my facial expression straight because I didn’t want the twins to feel like I was violating their space or having improper thoughts of their mom, but gotdamn. It got harder and harder to keep the charade of happy-go-lucky dude going.

Besides, Trinidad needed to know nothing about my sob stories and my life hardships. She had plenty going on herself, and she kept a tight ship with her boys and was always poised. Women like her made men like me want to be better. Show up better. There were zero cracks in her armor, so who was I to come here and burden her with my stuff?

The kitchen and very small dining room sat in a different space, each with its own room. The dining room walls were a light green, and pictures of paradise surrounded the space. From previous visits, the scenes were not only art; they actually were some of Trinidad and the twins’ favorite places in San Pedro de Macorís and Bridgetown. Even though she’d divorced, her love for Barbados ran deep, and it was showcased all over her home. Trinidad left me and continued to the kitchen, the sway of her walk making my chest tight.

“Ah! Orlando! Good to see you! Sit down, sit down. Everything is hot.” Miranda, one of the teachers at Basquiat High and Trinidad’s best friend, greeted me with a kind smile. I suspected she knew I had a crush on Trinidad, but she was always very kind when I saw her, so I reciprocated in kind.

Miranda, with her ample hips and thighs, navigated the tight corners around the table, holding two bottles of wine—one red and one white—until she plopped herself on her own seat and gave me a bigger grin, her light brown skin flushing red.

“So, carnival, huh? You gon wuk up dem gyal ova there?” Miranda had a glint in her eyes that I couldn’t figure out.

“Uh, not sure about all the wuking up I’ll be doin’, but yea. Carnival calling my name.” A quiet thrill traveled through me. I hadn’t given myself time to truly think about it, but I was amped. I really was going to carnival in Ofele Town.

“Mmmm, good! I know you’re gonna have a good time! We leave on the school bus early tomorrow as well, right, twins?” Miranda smirked and poured Riesling into Trinidad’s empty glass, filling up to the brim. “She had a crappy day, she needs it. Red or white?”

“Nah, I gotta wake up very early tomorrow.” I declined Miranda’s wine offer while Brandon and Brian gave her an evil stare, which they quickly wiped away when their mother walked back into the dining room, bringing some freshly squeezed lemonade and placing it in the middle of the table. Each seat had a gold placemat, a glass full of ice, a heaping plate of white rice, pollo guisao, a couple of tostones, a small ceramic bowl with red beans, slices of avocado, and wine glasses for the adults. My stomach rumbled at the sight and the aroma of the holy trinity carrying the dish. Having home-cooked meals was one of my favorite things, especially when I hadn’t cooked the meal.

“So yeah, the bus leaves tomorrow real early. So Mom’s gonna take us, and then she’ll fly in the afternoon, right, Mom?”

Trinidad sat at the head of the table with a quizzical smile. “Well yeah, you two made sure to buy my flight and take charge of my arrangements. I’ve never seen you both be so diligent about helping me out with my travels, but I appreciate it ’cause these two weeks have been a whole mess with that damn man changing the date of the event last minute.”

“So…where is this carnival you’re going to?” Miranda turned around and stared at me, smug amusement dancing all over her face. My instincts seldom failed me. I was certain Miranda liked me as a person, so my confusion grew. I fixed myself to answer her when Brandon’s foot slammed against mine below the table.

“Eat, everyone! It’s gonna get cold,” Trinidad exclaimed, and I nodded, frowning at Brandon, who instead was focused on Miranda with the same screw face as his brother.

“Damn, Trinidad, all of this looks amazing; thanks for the invite again. I love home-cooked meals, and I can tell you put a lot of love into this one.” I gave her what I hoped was a genial smile instead of the adoring one I felt seeping out of every pore. Trinidad’s ochre hue reddened, and her gaze grew misty as we both stared at each other. For a second, I forgot we had company. My solitary soul reached out to hers, and my chest compressed at the sensation of hers touching mine.

Goddamn, I needed to stop reading those fantasy-illustrated books with romance. Trinidad had me believing we’d turn the page and skip away happy in the jungle of New York.

Two souls finally connecting.

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