“
Photogenic?
That’s pretty superficial.”
“Not really. Intelligence and talent are always a winning combination, and as far as being superficial, it’s a media world, brother. What are you gonna do?”
Kwame tucked the card in his pocket.
Teddy kept talking. “Plus, don’t overlook the fact that your ever-lovin’ mama is going to be the mayor as sure as I’m sitting here. Bob Watson is nobody’s fool. Hiring her son couldn’t be bad for business.”
Kwame bristled. “I would hate to think he’s only interested in me because he wants to get close to my mother.”
“This is Atlanta, brother,” Teddy said, grinning. “Everybody wants something from you, so get that self-righteous tone out of your voice and figure out what you want from them. At least that way, you’ll be trading even.”
Kwame wanted to argue as Teddy signaled their server, but what was the point? He knew as well as anyone that Atlanta was as cutthroat as New York or L.A. It just had a bigger smile and a whole lot more Southern charm.
“You know I met Bob when he was on the faculty at Yale,” Teddy said, pulling a platinum American Express card out of his black Coach wallet and handing it to their server. “I introduced him to Marian.”
Marian was Bob Watson’s brittle, beautiful second wife. Kwame couldn’t help but smile.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Kwame shook his head. “You’re just such a bourgie bastard, that’s all. You probably met her at Martha’s Vineyard.”
“Exactly. That’s where they grow women like that.” Teddy signed the check, left a generous tip, and then looked across the table at Kwame. “So, I’ve eaten my way out of the possibility of sex with my wife until the pork passes out of my system, settled your damn future, and tipped the waiter more than he deserved. Are you going to show me your place or not?”
“Absolutely,” said Kwame, sliding out of the booth. “It’s about ten minutes away, just over the line.”
Teddy chuckled as they headed for the door.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just the way you said that.
It’s just over the line.
That Hamilton Negro has got a serious hold on y’all.”
You have no idea,
Kwame thought, opening the door for Teddy and glad all over again for a night outside the gates of Hamilton city. He wondered what Blue’s reaction would be to his deception of Aretha. All the possibilities were too scary to consider, so he pushed them to the back of his mind. At this moment, there was no fear greater than the possibility that his friend would suddenly change his mind, feign fatigue, and go back to his hotel to crash without having sex. As keyed up as he was, such a move was guaranteed to send Kwame out into the clubs alone, searching for the satisfaction he found only in the places he never meant to go to, but that always felt like home once he got there.
“Shall I ride with you?” Teddy said casually, but his voice was suddenly thick with the same possibilities that were dancing around in Kwame’s head.
“Sure,” Aretha’s husband said, popping the locks on his gray Honda and sliding in behind the wheel as Teddy leaned in the passenger door, grinning at Joyce Ann’s car seat strapped securely in the back. “I don’t have to ride in the baby seat, do I?”
“The only thing you got to worry about riding is me.”
Teddy laughed out loud and swung his long legs into the car. “And just think, you used to be afraid of phone sex,” he said as Kwame backed out of the Paschal’s lot and headed for Nelson Street.
“I used to be afraid of a lot of things.”
Teddy laid his hand on Kwame’s knee. Most of the old warehouses in the area were still being renovated and at night the urban pioneers still went home to their suburbs and their dreams of a life without the endless Atlanta rush hour. For now, Kwame and Teddy had the neighborhood to themselves. The dark streets they were traveling were empty at just after nine o’clock. At a deserted corner with
Olivia Jaymes
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