AUGUST, page 4
Nevertheless, to my grandmother’s family, I wasn’t a part of the family. Dealing with me made my cousins stop fucking with my grandmother. She thought I didn’t know. However, it was blatant that no one else came to see her except her raggedy ass son. As if I needed any more negativity rolling in this morning, my mother calling my phone swooped in and sucked some more life out of me.
“Hi, Mom,” I answered. Shuffling with the box to my Range Rover, I climbed inside and put the box on the passenger seat. Elijah’s balled up letter rolled from one end of the box to the next.
“Have you decided if you’re coming home for your birthday?”
I started the engine and rolled my eyes at the same time. Atlanta wasn’t my home. It was a place filled with too many bad memories for me.
“I don’t think I’m coming that way,” I answered.
“Oh, that’s right. I’m not as important to spend time with as your grandmother. Right…” My mother didn’t try to mask her animosity towards my grandmother.
“That’s not it,” I hurried to defend both me and my grandmother.
“It is it. I haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving. I’m your mother, not her.”
It was crazy how my mother had the worst animosity towards a woman who never had a problem with her. I never got in the middle of it and let my mother talk. Calling her out on her wrongdoings wouldn’t get me anywhere but further on her bad side. In her eyes, I couldn’t do anything right. Not even love her.
“Regardless of how you feel, I’m busy. Making a trip there would put me behind schedule.”
She chuckled. “Making wigs, right? Yeah, okay, Asia.”
The click in my ear was expected. Sighing, I let my phone join Elijah’s letter as I left my driveway, wondering how I ended up with two parents who equally seemed to hate me.
Pushing them both to the back of my mind, I drove to Ensley Shores with my heart palpitating in anticipation of seeing August.
It had to be a crime the way I chewed at my bottom lip, anxiously waiting on August’s arrival. He said that he would be back today. As if I really knew this man, I clung to his every word. Here I was jumping at every sound, thinking it was the doorknob turning. With the television on and me reading, it was a wonder I could still hear the knob turning in the first place. I was in tune, though. For some reason, I couldn’t wait to see August.
Lowkey, I was upset with my grandmother. This would be August’s fourth day here and she had yet to dig into his life. We knew nothing about him, and she wasn’t being intrusive enough for me. I wanted to know if he had a girlfriend or worse a wife? If he did, I wondered if she was treating him right.
I had seven wigs on my plate to complete and instead of worrying about them, my mind had been on August all fucking night and day. Even the content I’d posted yesterday seemed so out of sorts for me. While I wasn’t a social butterfly, behind the camera I could be anyone. My nerves never took over when I had to record myself making a wig. However, yesterday, I could barely record ten seconds without having to redo it. My mind kept sidetracking to August.
You’re not even that type of girl, I thought. I sure wasn’t. This infatuation with August was turning into a fucking thorn in my side. I was sure my grandmother peeped my anxious mood. As an efficient reader, I had never stumbled over scenes the way I was today. Every few words, I was stopping to gather myself.
A soft knock at the door had my heart leaping into my throat.
“Come in,” Grandma called.
Another crime happened the minute August stepped inside my grandmother’s apartment. My heart slipped from my chest and out through my pussy at the way he licked his lips and smiled. His attire was that of a man who wore expensive shit—everything was designer from his white tee to his white canvas sneakers. He looked like he’d just left a meeting where only wealthy people were. His outfit was neither too dressed up nor too dressed down. It was perfect. Just like him.
And here he came smelling so good that I swallowed a hefty moan. He dipped his head at me in greeting, then moved into the living room near my grandmother.
“Hey, Mary,” he spoke. Just how he tweaked my chin, he did to her just now. Her face broke in a broad smile that strained her cheeks.
“Well, hello!”
I had to turn away from the way his jeans hugged his thighs when he sat down on the couch just inches from me. He did this before, invading my space. The fact that he couldn’t tell I was nearly hyperventilating from him being so close bothered me. Yet, I had not a single ounce of courage to tell him to move.
The more I stared at him the more it set in that his singleness was definitely giving ‘no’. Some lucky woman had to be sitting on his powerful thighs every day. If I was her, I’d sit on him every chance I got. As someone who wasn’t clingy in the least, that was a big deal for me. Resisting the urge to get up and leave the living room for fear of disintegrating right into the couch I sat on, I squared my shoulders and hid my attraction behind a friendly smile.
“How’s your day going so far?” Grandma asked.
“It’s going great. Just came from having lunch with my family.”
“You’re married?”
Finally! I wanted to shout when my grandmother popped the question.
August grinned and replied, “Not even close.” He didn’t elaborate and, again, my grandmother didn’t pry.
“Well, you’re still young,” was all she said.
August reached over and plucked the book from my hand, causing me to gasp as if he’d physically touched me.
“What you readin’?”
“A Chance at Love,” Grandma responded with a whimsical smile. “Beverly Jenkins is by far my favorite author.”
“It’s historical romance,” I added, trying to recover from the tsunami he caused inside of me.
He nodded. “That’s cool. You mind if I pick up where you left off?”
I shook my head ‘no’. One of those seven wigs I should’ve had done by now was inside my grandmother’s room waiting on me to finish it. I could work while he read to her. Leaning back against the sofa, he positioned his thighs open where I had no choice but to take a glance. Gulping, my eyes flew to his. He slightly smirked, then turned to the book he had opened with just one of his large, tattooed hands.
Like every time he read, he sounded as smooth as a saxophone and as deep as a bass. Overall, his voice gave the same effect as the rumble of an old box chevy that shook the neighborhood whenever it rode through. August was pulling emotions out of me that I wasn’t sure I even possessed. Like noticing the simplest shit about a man that I couldn’t have cared less to learn about him before.
On the other end of the couch, I was busy at work dividing my attention between work and watching his lips move as he read. Every so often, he licked them. I loved how he seemed to be as glued to the story as my grandmother. No matter what, he sounded like he’d been born to read to me.
And I was born to listen.
The following Monday, I arrived at my grandmother’s apartment to find Elijah entering the building. Normally, I could gauge his schedule. Today’s visit was out of the ordinary meaning he was probably on bullshit. He hadn’t left me any other lovely notes. I’d gone back through my security cameras just to see how often he’d driven by my house in the last week. I was able to count four times. Not wanting to bump into him, I left the parking lot and decided to make a quick run to the beauty supply store.
Making wigs was a hobby I picked up while a junior in high school. Athena and Sherman weren’t rich, but they weren’t poor either. If I ever asked them for anything, it was always a strong ass “no”. Needing a quick hairstyle for homecoming, I used one of my mama’s old wigs. Over the years, I’d watched her lay wigs and knew just enough to lay my own. Everyone at school had been shocked when I showed up to homecoming in a blonde pixie cut.
Ever since that day, I loved wigs. While my natural hair was healthy, I sometimes loved wearing protective styles. Wigs were something I went for if I wanted a different color or style that I didn’t want to stress my natural bundles to have.
My love for wigs ended up being the very thing that blessed me to make money. After my sophomore year in college, I dropped out. I was twenty years old, still living at home and hating every day that I had to walk into that place. It made it no better when every day I had to hear my mama or Sherman complain about the fact that I didn’t make enough money to help support my stay in their house.
One day, I got so fed up that I begged God for a way out. His answer was telling me that He’d given me everything I needed to catapult my life where I wanted it to be. For days I pondered on it, wondering what it was that I was missing. Then it came to me in a dream. I was doing hair for celebrities. In that same dream, I was walking to class, holding several books.
That very next morning, I woke up and wrote down everything I dreamed. I was too much of an introvert to see myself working in a salon let alone with celebrities, but I still went straight to the internet and purchased everything I needed to start making wigs. I didn’t have the courage to work person to person with anyone. However, I could still provide a service without directly dealing with people.
For weeks, I posted my wigs on social media with no real bite. That was until one celebrity took a chance on me. Nesha was an artist out of Atlanta who was taking over the R&B game track by track. She liked a purple wig I posted and messaged me about it. I mailed it to her team the next day. She used my wig in the newest video she had been shooting and tagged me in it. My inbox went crazy after that. That was the beginning of AsiaDome. The more comfortable I got making content, I ventured out and started putting my face on my platform. Business seemed to soar even more. In fulfilling my dreams, I completed college last spring and left Atlanta. Now that I was back in my real hometown, I felt I was truly settling into my life.
After spending close to an hour in the beauty supply store, I doubled back to my grandmother’s apartment. Thankfully, Elijah’s Mercedez was gone. I parked, grabbed all my belongings, then went inside. Katrina barely spoke, her dislike for me was weird as hell. It didn’t matter because I didn’t like her ass either. After I signed in, I got on the elevator and didn’t think twice about her. Once inside my grandmother’s apartment, I went straight to hug her.
“Why you look so upset?” I asked her.
She was listening to Family Feud, but the frown on her face didn’t match the laughter of the crowd. Knowing Elijah was here, I wanted to see if he’d disrupted her mood. I wouldn’t tell her that I’d seen him. She knew how her son felt about me.
Fixing her face, Grandma smiled, but it didn’t stretch far.
“Nothing, chile. Working today?”
Her change of subject told me not to dig. If Elijah did start some shit with her, she wasn’t ready to talk about it.
“Yes. I’m about to finish working on this wig. Is that okay with you?”
She emphatically nodded. “Sure is. August should be here soon.”
Which meant that he could read to her. Rolling my eyes, I said, “Okay,” and went to her bedroom to retrieve my mannequin and other supplies. While she hummed and listened to Family Feud, I worked on securing the brunette tracks to a wig cap.
Shortly after I started, the doorbell rang. My heart stuttered and tripped over itself. Grandma beamed brightly, excited to hear August’s voice. No lie, I felt the same way. Opening the door for him, I had to resist the urge to bite my lip. He was standing there allowing his eyes to have their way with me. Even the neck strings attached to my glasses felt his energy.
“Come in.” To my ears, I sounded breathless. It didn’t help when he snagged his bottom lip with his teeth. As he came inside the apartment, he brushed against my body…purposely. Then, he walked off like he hadn’t just brought me to release right here in this doorway. I wanted to cuss him out for doing that shit, but I just closed the door and went and sat my ass down.
For the next hour, I sat there making a wig and couldn’t for the life of me keep my shit together. Every sentence he read seemed so damn erotic. Every word he spoke played with my clit. He was just too much for me.
When it was time for him to leave, he hugged my grandmother like she was his grandmother. I had to admit. The way he treated her was just beautiful. However, today was another day passing without us learning a single thing about him. He never broached on the subject of his life, and my grandmother just sat there and let him keep his business to himself.
As he was walking to the front door, I noticed him getting my attention. Pinning the needle into the mannequin head, I got up from the couch, curious as to what he could want.
“Walk me outside,” he said.
Chapter Six
ASIA ANTHONY
Within seconds, I had my slides on and was on the elevator with him. We watched each other. Something deep brewed between us. Yet we both said nothing. Once outside, he finally spoke.
“So you really make wigs?”
Walking side by side with August was giving couple. If Nesha knew that I was allowing this man to graze up against me, she’d have a coronary.
“Yeah. It’s pretty simple yet rewarding.”
“Not gon’ lie, you do a good ass job.”
This was his second time complimenting my work. Hope was on the horizon.
“How long have you been at it?”
“Nosey?”
As we made it to his truck, his shoulders lifted in a shrug.
“If I tell you, you gotta tell me something about you.”
Briefly, he glanced off trying to hide the tug of his lips, fighting a smile. When his eyes returned to mine, they were full of curiosity.
“Aight.”
My heart took several leaps. “Four years now.”
Surprised, he said, “That’s dope as fuck.”
It pleased me so much that he approved, but inwardly, I scowled.
“So… What about you?” He chuckled at the way I blinked up at him.
“June is my son’s name. He’s turning five soon.”
I placed my hands over my heart, and the smile I had on my face grew to the size of Texas.
“Aww, how sweet. August and June.”
His laughter was like touching a downed wire in the middle of a tornado—it swept me up in a tidal wave of emotions.
“Stop,” he softly demanded.
I smacked my teeth. “I can’t think it’s cute that you and your son have such amazing names?”
“You can,” he said. “Just think it without allat soft shit.”
Tickled, I cracked up. “You’re funny, August.”
Awkwardly, I stood here wondering where this would go next. Meanwhile, his chest was just inches away from my face, begging me to just reach out and give it a touch.
Oh, hell no! What the hell is he doing to me?
“Asia…”
He uttered my name so softly that I had no choice but to die a little on the inside.
“You bad as fuck, shawty. I won’t lie and say you don’t make me feel some type of way about you. But I think it’s best if we be friends.”
Immediately, I constructed a wall higher than any wall I ever had before. August had the potential to pull me out of a place I’d been in all my life. For that reason alone, I was glad he proposed this friendship. Back was the Asia who had her head on straight. Concealing my disappointment with a sarcastic smirk, I met his solemn gaze.
“Then I guess it’s a good thing that I feel the same way.” Reluctantly sticking my hand out, I replied, “Friends?”
My switch up confused him. Just like me, he hid it well. His hand slid into mine, the warmth and power of his much larger one contradicted the words that just came out of his mouth.
Later that evening, August was still on my mind as I read this book about a scarred man. The lead male character was hateful and rude, so much so that I wasn’t sure how the female lead was going to break him down. The small bit of hopeless romantic in me rooted for her to break him all the way down. While love didn’t seem to be near for me in the real world, in the fictional world I could let my mind loose to feel and believe what was in between the pages.
“Grandma?”
“Yes, dear.”
“How do you love a man who’s broken?”
“First of all, August isn’t broken.”
“I’m not talking about—”
She grinned and cut me off before I could lie. “Come now, child. I may be blind, but I feel every spark that shoots off between the two of you.”
Blushing, I dipped my head to hide it from the four walls.
“August has the most beautiful heart.”
“How can you know that when he never opens up to us? We know nothing about him.”
“Oh, I know plenty,” she stated. “And his heart is good. Somewhere along the way, he tripped.”
“His mom died when we were in second grade. We weren’t in the same class, but our teacher made us sign this really big card for him. Then we ended up being in fifth grade together. He picked on me every day.” To that I laughed. My laughter slowly dimmed as I recalled some of August’s other behavior. “When he wasn’t picking on me, he was to himself, not really interacting with other classmates. Unless the teacher asked, he wouldn’t even participate with class activities.”
“His life changed. Losing a mother is hard in itself, and he was just a baby.”
I nodded. “Right.”
“What else do you know about him?” she pried.
Revisiting that time in my life wasn’t a walk in the park. It always took me back to the good times. Only I couldn’t remember the good without recalling the bad as well.
“Remember when I had the flu, and my mama came up to the school drunk?”
Reluctantly, my grandmother nodded. She hated what I went through and did all she could to help me.
“While I was in the office waiting for her, August’s grandmother was sitting in there signing some paperwork. Mama stumbled in, being loud and belligerent. His grandmother ripped her a new one. By the time she was done with my mama, Mama left in tears.”
