Queen Move

“How do you know?” Now I’m probing.

“I asked her on the phone.”

“She called? You didn’t say she called.”

“Sorry, nosy. She texted me to say she was coming and I called her to scream about it. We got to talking. Turns out we’re both in a drought.”

“Drought?”

“Dick drought. She’s running through batteries fast as I am.”

“Dammit, Mona. I do not need to know how often you…” I glance over at Noah, who literally just said “oy vey” to my mother. “…do that.”

And the mental image of Kimba masturbating will not be easy to shake.

Well, fuck.

Make that a cold shower for at least one of the Stern men.

“Well, she’s doing that a lot, too.” Mona laughs. “And even if she and Barry just hook up while she’s here, it could—”

“No.” The word storms from my mouth before I have time to think about it.

Mona tips her head, a frown puckering above puzzled eyes. “You’re not like doing some weird, half-paternal, half-fraternal slut shaming thing, are you? Because Kimba will not appreciate that.”

“Fraternal?” Hardly. “No, I just think…” I think what? That if Kimba’s gonna fuck anyone on vacation it should be me?

“I hate we missed our formative sex years together,” Mona says, tapping the heels of her Chucks against the counter. “The three of us, I mean. I can just see Kimba and me talking about our first time and you rolling your eyes and covering your ears.”

Considering the huge crush I had on Kimba back then, I would have died inside. “Yeah, well, you hooking her up with Barry won’t make up for it.”

“You never know.” She hops down from the countertop and grabs the sauce she came to borrow. “She went off to make that big name for herself, but the man for her could have been right here back home in Atlanta.”

In a way, we both left this city to find ourselves. As much as I hated leaving Kimba, I found myself overseas. Kimba had to leave the city to carve out a space for herself, out from under the shadow of her family’s name. Now we’re both back where it all began. Where we began. I’m here to stay, but she’s not. What are the odds of her coming back to town when Aiko and I just broke up? When I’m, for the first time in a decade, free to pursue her.

Like I said. Sometimes what we think is a fluke is really fate.

Whichever it is, I won’t let it go to waste.

Chapter Eighteen

Kimba

Coming to Mona’s cookout was a bad idea.

On so many levels.

Level one.

I could quite possibly eviscerate her guest bathroom. I’ve been either sitting on or kneeling before the porcelain throne for the last two days, digestively prolific from both ends, and I’m about damn tired of it. Between diarrhea and vomiting, I’ve been chained to my mother’s house. There’s a reason I put several states between us. We love each other, God knows we do, but after a day or so, two alpha females under one roof is a whole-ass mood.

Not a good one.

In addition to Mama’s usual lecturing, advising and “guiding,” she’s also fussed over me, assuming I’m sick, a much more logical conclusion than the truth. The detox pills that may re-start my period arrived. The catch? They have run through my body like a typhoon.

Never thought I’d say this, but I better bleed.

Several of my homeopath’s patients have not only restored their cycles through this remedy, but have gone on to have babies.