Page 15 of Ms. V's Hot Girl Summer

Trinidad bit her lip, and I followed the perfectly white square of her tooth digging into her plumpness and gave a brief thanks for thinking of basketball shorts yet again. Needing a distraction, I cut the staring game first and turned to Miranda, who didn’t have the smug expression anymore. Instead, she looked pensive. Up to something.

“I’m traveling to Jacksonville.”

For some reason, I did not say Ofele Town. Trinidad already had a skewed view of my wild, nonexistent ways, and I didn’t want to fuck it up by naming the town famous for hosting the hottest, newest Caribbean carnival in the States. Stories of last year’s carnival spread all over Black social media, with videos of people wilding out in the coastal town. Maybe she’d think I’m going to like an American style carnival. Best leave things to the imagination.

“Well, that’s dope. We’re going to Florida too! Not Jacksonville, though,” Trinidad said with interest as Brandon squirmed next to her.

“Ma! Stop saying dope, please! So, I was thinking, though, maybe you should let us go with Auntie Miranda; she is chaperoning too, so she can drive us to the bus.”

“Don’t be offering your auntie. The bus drive to Florida, girl… You are braver than me going in that bus for fifteen hours…” Trinidad shuddered.

“Well, someone has to do it, and I get extra pay, so if I need to watch a bunch of horny little fifteen-year-olds to get some overtime, then I will do that.”

“Auntie!” Brian chastised her, but Brandon stopped making eye contact with everyone at the table and focused solely on his chicken. Damn, little homie probably had plans for the weekend. Not trying to blow his spot, I tried to keep the laughter from creeping up my throat, but it was a lost cause. Trinidad and Miranda soon joined me—all of us probably remembering some good times when we were teenagers with roaring hormones taking over every single logical thought.

Trinidad’s chest rose and fell, the jiggle of her hidden breasts making me dizzy. The laughter subsided as my own horniness conquered any other rational way of thinking. I attempted again to wrench my gaze away from her, but I caught her biting her lips again. Shit. I was in trouble. This woman was pure trouble.

“A’ight. A’ight, it’s not that funny. So, Ma, you’re all set for tomorrow. The confirmation number is in your notes app, so you don’t have to search a million emails in that inbox of yours.”

“Giiiiirl, you need to do better.” Miranda shook her head. “Thank God for Brian and Brandon arranging all of this for you ’cause you need it.”

Trinidad stared at me for a second until she released me from her hold, and I was able to breathe easier.

“Girl, you ain’t lying. I definitely need this trip.” Trinidad shrugged and got back to her rice. And I went back to thinking she was completely out of my league.

* * *

“So, the boys doing better at home? Helping you out?” Not knowing my limits, I offered Trinidad to help with cleanup and washing the dishes. Miranda took one look at the pile on the sink, murmured something about the dishwasher and Riesling, and left us in the kitchen. The boys went to their room, letting me know they’d be ready to beat me when I was done with helping out.

The kitchen glowed with its yellow buttery walls and appliances. Such an old-school design, but it suited Trinidad; she was such an odd mix, and I couldn’t quite crack her. For an observant person, that was enough to drive me wild with interest. She could be a little stuck-up, sometimes goofy, sexy, cool, strict—I could go on and on. Every single facet I discovered kept me hooked.

The need to make sure she was good, though? That had been growing little by little over the past few months. With all I had to take care of, you’d think I didn’t want anything else on my plate, but if it was a serving of Trinidad, I’d gobble it all up. All to make sure she was good.

“They are, and I know it is not their good-for-nothing father…so thank you. You are an amazing mentor, and the boys really look up to you.” We finished with the last dish, the scent of cinnamon and cloves boiling in the pot Trinidad set up to cleanse the house of the garlic and onion scent from before.

“Nah, you’re an amazing mom. They really look up to you, you know? They get it even at their age. They get that you are their rock. Their father…” The boys’ father was always a touchy subject. Brandon and Brian talked about him in an admiring but distant way. Trinidad had moments where she cracked and showed some of her frustration about her ex-husband, but for the most part, she kept a neutral way of handling anything related to their co-parenting.

“He’s living his best life, and I am saddened for the boys. I’m saddened they never met the real man he was when he just moved to the States. I swear that man came to this country so hungry for love and for community. And I poured myself into him; I was his family, his connection to the culture here…all, and now it’s like we are strangers. He got what he needed: two sons and that was it. He was too good for me after that. I was too… Dominican, too Black, toobarriofor him. He wanted a bit of a more elevated life, you know? He moved to Manhattan, passed the Bar, and that’s it. Now he has his beautiful blonde wife and…he barely teaches the boys about his Bayan background. Thank God for his parents.”

Damn. I hadn’t expected this. She never opened up. I didn’t know what to say.

“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me…probably that large-ass glass of Riesling Miranda served me.”

“Nah, you’re good. I…honestly, I am glad you feel comfortable opening up to me. I see you,” I confessed, unable to keep the words from tumbling out.

“You see me, huh? What do you see? A tired thirty-five-year-old barely making it?”

“No, I see a beautiful, amazing woman, intelligent and capable, loving and so brave.” Might as well spill my guts here to her. I don’t know what it was about her, but damn, it felt good saying this.

“Wow, that was…lovely, made me feel things, or maybe it’s the Riesling…” she whispered into her glass, her gaze lost for a second. Staying still felt like the best approach. Staring at her mouth, on the other hand, felt like a recipe for a night of tossing and turning. It was worth it.

When she licked her lips and took another gulp of wine, I followed the liquid down her throat and wondered what it would be like to press my lips right there where her neck met her shoulder. Fucking hell, I was standing in Ms. Velasquez’s kitchen with a full chubby. Egregious behavior. Inevitable.

“Thanks, Orlando, that was… I didn’t realize I needed to hear that, but I did. I’m going to turn in for the night, but you are welcome to stay with the twins; just make sure they lock up, alright?” Her eyes roamed down my body and, for a second, paused around my crotch area; at this point, I was fully hard, and there was no hiding it. I tried standing a better way, but the shift made things worse. Ms. Velasquez licked her lips again and I’m ashamed to admit a groan almost escaped me.

“Yeah, I should go to bed…it’s getting…hot,” Trinidad said and brushed past me, her perfume lingering behind. “Good night, Orlando.”

“Good night, Ms. Velasquez. Sleep well.”

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