Page 94 of Seven Days in June

Her friends gawked at her.

“Where?”asked Cece.

“Nicely done!” Belinda approved. “I’ve always wanted to get naked and rub myself all over Langston Hughes’s abode in Harlem. You know, to manifest his gifts.”

“No, no, no,” said Eva. “Shane’s renting James Baldwin’s place for the week.”

“That’s lovely,” said Cece. “Two successful authors reuniting, having their first adult sex together while surrounded by the spirit of a literary legend…”

Eva took a sip of her seltzer. “Wellll, it wasn’t the first time. That was three days ago. At a downtown art installation.”

“The hell y’all doing out here?” said Belinda, pouting and jealous. “I’m supposed to be the kinky one!”

“It sounds crazy, but the whole thing feels so natural. As kids, we were too raw; we just weren’t ready for each other. Now we are.”

Cece radiated satisfaction. Eva had admitted to a relationship with Shane. At her party. The exorbitant price tag was worth it. “So do you really think you can pick up where you left off, after fifteen years?”

Eva didn’t answer her. Because she’d stopped listening. Instead, she was beaming in the direction of the front door.

There was Shane. Exasperatingly handsome in a dark tee, dark jeans, and three-day stubble—and gazing at Eva like she hung the goddamned moon. Eva smiled even wider, if it were even possible. And then, flashing the smirk of the century, Shane stuck his finger into his cheek, in the exact spot where Eva’s dimple was flashing at him across the room. Eva winked at him, shooting him finger guns.

Belinda fell out laughing. “Y’all are thecorniestdorks. I’m inviolentsupport of this.”

“Look at everyone’s faces,” gasped Cece, delighted by the revelers’ breathless reaction to having a Mysterious Author within their midst. A members-only party wasn’t a party without a surprise guest. Thrusting her drink into Belinda’s free hand, Cece rushed off to greet her famed protégé.

She wasn’t the only one. It took only a few minutes for Shane to become swarmed by fawning peers. Between sweet glances her way, she could read on his face that he was uncomfortable. He was trapped, forced to be social when he just wanted to be with her.

It was all Eva wanted, too. She was seconds away from taking a flying leap into his arms. Instead, she stood there, radiating big love energy in Shane’s direction. And slowly, one by one, the partygoers picked up on it.

Word traveled fast.

Overheard near the terrace:

“Wow. I’ve never seen Shane Hall smile,” said a busty memoirist.

“I’ve never seen Shane Hall, period,” remarked a bespectacledNew Yorkeressayist.

“Who’s he making eyes at?Eva Mercy?”

“They’re dating,” said the essayist. “I saw fan pics yesterday. Black Book Twitter.”

“Stop,” exclaimed an agent. “I always assumed she was a super-femme lesbian. Aren’t vampires a lesbian thing?”

“She does have that Zoë Kravitz energy.”

“Zoë Kravitz isn’t a lesbian.”

“Neither is Eva Mercy, apparently. She’s looking at Shane like he’s a sizzling steak fajita.”

Overheard near the bar:

“I fucked Shane Hall at BookExpo America in 2007,” whispered a gazelle-like novelist. “He was so sweet!”

“Then it wasn’t him, girl,” said her agent.

Overheard near the cheese smorgasbord:

“Eva’s hella chill,” said a sneaker designer who spoke in a ’90s-slam-poetry voice. “It doesn’t sit well with my spirit, her falling for the dangerous type.”

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