Better Than Okay Page 2

  Deciding she looked decent enough, she hurriedly pushed open the door, the steam from her shower following as she stepped into the room. Brian was sitting in the striped green and beige hotel chair, his back to her, facing the television. He stopped flipping the channels when he heard the door open and turned toward her.

  “Did you get the job?” she said immediately, not even bothering with a greeting.

  He laughed and stood, leaning against the back of the chair.

  “Yes, Tweety, I got the job,” he answered, grinning.

  She squealed and ran across the room, throwing her arms around his neck. He returned her embrace, wrapping her in his arms.

  “Yay!” she said, doing a little dance as she hugged him. “Say it… ‘yay!’ We’re not on chat anymore.”

  He laughed heartily and shook his head at her, his eyes glinting with amusement. “It’s even less manly to say it in conversation, Tweet.”

  She sighed dramatically and he chuckled again. He pulled back a little, looking her in the eyes.

  “Hi,” he said, fixing her with his signature half-grin.

  “Hi.” She smiled up at him.

  He kissed her cheek and brushed the tip of her nose with his index finger, like he frequently did. She was pretty sure it was the kind of thing you would do to a puppy, but because it was Brian, she didn’t mind. She hugged him again, letting him pick her up effortlessly off the ground this time. She smiled up at him when he set her back down. He looked… different.

  “You look different,” she blurted out.

  He chuckled and backed up, seating himself on the edge of the chair.

  “Different?” he questioned cocking an eyebrow at her.

  She nodded. His face had stubble. That was new. His hair was cut short; that wasn’t new but the look in his eyes was. He looked… older. Or something. More intense than usual. His eyes had always been what girls talked about the most, especially in high school. They contrasted his mocha complexion and were just a shade lighter than dark brown; not nearly light enough to be hazel, but distinctive enough to notice their color on a second or third glance.

  And he even smelled new. Like soap and spice and… man. She shook her head at herself for being weird enough to notice his smell. He had on khaki shorts and a short sleeved green plaid button-up, which also wasn’t new. He’d always kept his own style, even when all the other guys his age were in their hipster-skater phase. His tattoo, however, was new.

  “Brian! You got a tattoo?” she asked in surprise, raising an eyebrow. She ran her fingers lightly over his well-defined bicep, studying the word “NEEMA.”

  ‘’‘Undeserved favor,’” he answered her unspoken question. “It’s grace in Swahili.”

  “It’s so dope,” she murmured, studying the design more closely, running her fingers over the curves of the creatively drawn letters.

  Each letter was bold and artful, almost like a design within itself and they curved into a circle that together, resembled the sun. It was beautiful.

  “This really is dope,” she said again.

  “Remember Jeff Lincoln from high school?” he asked.

  She nodded. At the time he was by far the best visual artist in the school. The administration was always asking him to do murals.

  “He did it. He has a tattoo shop now.”

  “Well, it’s really…”

  “Dope?” he finished, playfully.

  He smiled as she stared at him again, trying to place what it was about him that was throwing her off.

  “You have hair,” she finally said.

  He laughed again, shaking his head at her. “Um, yeah. I’ve always had hair, Tweet.”

  “You know what I mean, dork,” she said, slapping at his shoulder.

  “I see you’re still violent,” he said chuckling. “And that you still have a problem with name-calling.”

  She rolled her eyes and ignored him.

  “You know this is the longest we’ve ever gone in life without seeing each other in person. Skyping a couple of times doesn’t count. You just look… I dunno. Something.”

  “I thought you were supposed to be a writer,” he teased her, fixing his half grin on her. “You can’t think of an adjective?”

  His eyes were amused. She bit her lip and shook her head, a grin on her face.

  “You look different too,” he finally said, “in a good way.”

  She wrinkled her brow.

  “What are you saying? You expected me to look different in a bad way?”

  He sighed and fixed her with another one of his looks.

  “You’re so extra,” he said, his bass voice filled with laughter.

  “Now who’s the name-caller?” she replied, staring at him pointedly.

  “‘Extra’ isn’t a name,” he countered quickly, still grinning at her.

  They stared at each other for a long minute. His eyes were still amused with a hint of something else she couldn’t quite read. Not that it surprised her. Brian always had concealed his thoughts well. It threw a lot of people off because he rarely gave away anything with his expression. It’s why even though he wasn’t overly aggressive, people tended to leave him alone. People feared what they couldn’t figure out. Brian just had a look about him. Something in his eyes that said beneath his calm he could be dangerous if necessary. She knew from first-hand experience it was the truth.

  He was just as protective with his words as he was with his expressions. He wasn’t shy at all, but it was almost as if he was allotted a certain number of words per day and he had to use them carefully, saving them for people and situations that really mattered. As she got older she realized that was a rare trait. Most people loved to hear themselves talk, offering their opinions on things that either didn’t concern them or were outside of their ranges of intelligence. The realization made her appreciate Brian more.

  Suddenly, she realized she was pretty much still standing in between his long legs and quickly stepped back. He was a little over six feet and since she was only five foot three he kind of dwarfed her.

  “So, what is this job exactly?” she asked, releasing a breath and crossing the room to the desk to grab her bag and slip on her sandals.

  “It’s for the same position I’m in now, basically—just better pay and obviously a new location,” he answered, following as she headed toward the door.

  She slipped her hotel key into her bag and soundly shut the door behind her.

  “I’m so excited for you,” she said again, heading toward the elevators.

  Given his situation at home, he was supposed to be a statistic. His mom was a recovering addict and his dad had never been in the picture. Not a lot of people knew about what he went through growing up. Brian wasn’t the type to broadcast anything and he’d always kept it together. His grades were always good. He played ball. He didn’t even get into fights often. The few times that he did, he’d beat the guys up so badly nobody else was inclined to mess with him. And now he was a web developer with a career that was more promising than hers. She glanced at him and smiled.

  “I’m kind of jealous you get to live here though,” she admitted.

  “Actually, I won’t be living here. The owners are out here doing business so they thought it would be cool to do the interview here.”

  She wrinkled her brow and looked at him.

  “That’s a little weird,” she said as they walked slowly down the hall.

  “Yeah, they’re young and tryin’ to be cool, I guess,” he shrugged. “They thought it would be good for me to fly here. The company is actually pretty small.”

  “So, where are they based?” she asked, readjusting her bag strap on her shoulder. She rarely carried an actual purse; they were too small to fit her recorder, note pads, and camera in it.

  “In Miami,” he said, halting a bit to gauge her reaction.

  “What?” she practically screamed, her eyes growing huge as saucers.

  She quickly looked around to make sure nobody heard
her yelling like a lunatic. An old lady was making her way down the opposite hall but didn’t seem to be paying them any attention.

  “Are you serious?” she asked, facing him again. They’d reached the elevators and he hit the down button.

  “Yep,” he smiled as the doors dinged open.

  They stepped inside and he leaned against the back wall.

  “Does Dorian know?”

  She was so excited she could barely contain herself. Brian was like family to her and Dorian and it seemed like forever since they had all three lived in the same state. Even though they usually hung out the entire time when she and Dorian went home for the holidays and Brian had come to visit them in Miami quite a few times, it wasn’t the same as actually being in the same place together all of the time.

  “Yeah, I called him after they offered me the gig. I’m actually gonna stay with him for a while.” Destiny wasn’t surprised. Dorian had a spare bedroom and it definitely made sense since the cost of living was ridiculously expensive there.

  “So, when do you move?”

  The elevators opened and they stepped out making their way around the corner to the busy lobby.

  “In a week.”

  “A week?” she repeated loudly, stopping in her tracks.

  This time she didn’t bother to look around, the noise from the lobby was drowning her out anyway.

  “Yeah, it all happened really quick.”

  She shook her head, in shock. Gleeful shock, but shock nevertheless.

  “This is gonna be so dope,” she said, practically skipping toward the exit.

  “It is,” he said grinning again, as they stepped out into the sunlight and heat.

  * * *

  They walked leisurely down St. Charles, despite the overwhelming humidity and strangely intoxicating smell of fish and…coffee?

  “It smells kind of weird here,” she observed, glancing at Brian.

  He nodded in agreement grinning. “Think that’s part of the charm though,” he said.

  She wrinkled her nose took another sip of her icy lemonade and vodka and concentrated on not tripping on the cobblestoned walkway. She was already buzzed. Raven, her best friend and old college roommate, would be proud. Brian had insisted they have a mid-afternoon celebration cocktail and even though she’d only had coffee for breakfast and was practically starving, she couldn’t resist his request. She pushed her sunglasses up on her nose and took another sip.

  “I really wasn’t supposed to start drinking until after the show,” she told Brian for the third time. “But this is so good.”

  “You’re such a lightweight,” he teased, glancing over at her. He took a sip of his own drink and grinned. “We’ll get some food in you. What do you feel like?”

  She shrugged and stumbled a bit. Brian put a hand on her back to steady her and held back a grin.

  “Really, Tweet? Are you really that buzzed already?” he asked with amusement, eyeing her half-full drink.

  She glared at him behind her sunglasses.

  “I’m not gonna be babysitting you, so you better slow down,” he said, eyeing her as she took another long sip.

  “When have I ever needed you to babysit me?” she retorted, frowning.

  “Do I need to remind you of the freshman homecoming incident?” he asked, staring at her pointedly.

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. She was never going to live that down. He’d flown down for FAMU’s homecoming her freshman year and she’d insisted she could keep up with him and Dorian and the endless tequila shots they’d downed before heading to a campus party. She was wrong. Brian had stayed with her and missed the party as she’d hurled repeatedly throughout the night, positive that she was going to die.

  “Must you bring that up on every occasion?” she asked indignantly, pushing her sunglasses up.

  “Yes,” he teased her. “That shit was pretty ridiculous.”

  “Oh, shut up. You’re the one who kept shoving tequila shots down my throat.”

  He laughed shaking his head in denial.

  “Nah, Tweety, you need to refresh your memory. You thought you could hang with me and D just because you were a freshman in college. ‘Give me another shot, Brian, I can handle it…’” He said, making his voice high as he mimicked her.

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You’re one who insisted I celebrate with you today, so you don’t get to bring up the past,” she said, concentrating on not tripping again as she walked so he wouldn’t have another reason to tease her.

  He laughed. “Right, you’re celebrating with me, so no shit talking.”

  “Then stop saying shit to make me talk shit,” she retorted quickly.

  He chuckled and grabbed her hand and pulled her to the opposite side of the street. She brushed by a couple walking by in the opposite direction dressed in matching t-shirts and oversized yellow and pink sombreros.

  “There’s a little seafood restaurant right up here that smelled pretty good when I passed by earlier,” he told her, pointing down the street.

  Her stomach rumbled at the mention of food. He didn’t release her hand and she let him drag her along, careful not to bump into anyone on the crowded street.

  “Right here,” he said as they approached the restaurant.

  They threw their drinks in the trashcan outside of the door and he guided her in front of him and put his hand on the small of her back, ushering her through the doorway as he held the door open for her. He was right; it smelled like seafood heaven. It was a medium-sized space, and the bistro tables that decorated the restaurant all had framed postcards of New Orleans landmarks sitting in the middle of them. Huge, nearly wall-length paintings of jazz musicians decorated the eggshell colored walls. Some of them, like Dizzy Gillespie and Thelonious Monk she knew, but there were quite a few she didn’t recognize. She squinted at them, intrigued.

  “You know who that is?” she asked nodding her head toward the painting that seemed to pop out more than the others. The player was holding a saxophone and his hat was tilted down, his eyes fierce and concentrated.

  Brian eyed the painting for a second.

  “Sonny Rollins,” he answered. “He played with…”

  “Miles Davis, Thelonious Monk, and Dizzy and is most widely known for his songs ‘St. Thomas’ and ‘Oleo’,” she supplied as he stared at her.

  “You sound like a Wikipedia Page. If you knew all of that then why didn’t you know what he looked like?”

  She shrugged. “I never Googled to see his face. I just listen to the music, dork.”

  He grabbed her by the waist and dragged her to him, tickling her sides. “I’m tired of your constant name-calling,” he teased, his voice low in her ear, as she squealed and struggled to get out of his arms, laughing loudly.

  “Table for two?” the hostess suddenly asked Brian politely, causing him to finally release her.

  Destiny straightened her hair with her fingers and watched the short-haired blonde’s gaze roam over Brian’s face and chest before she looked away quickly and regained her composure. His presence all but demanded attention, even though there was nothing boastful or cocky about him.

  “Yep,” Brian said, flashing her a quick smile.

  The girl turned bright red and tucked her hair behind her ear.

  “Right over here,” she managed, leading them to the right of the hostess station.

  She stopped abruptly and Destiny almost rammed into her back. Brian did run into Destiny, grabbing her at the waist to keep her from falling forward.

  “You alright?” he asked her quietly so the frazzled hostess couldn’t hear.

  His breath was warm in her ear and her back was pressed into his chest. She turned her head to look up at him and nodded quickly.

  “I mean this way, I’m so sorry,” the hostess was saying, shaking her head and pointing them in the opposite direction.

  The hostess’ blush deepened to crimson and Brian grinned disarmingly at her again.

  “No worries,” he s
aid easily, keeping a hand on Destiny’s waist as he guided her to follow the hostess.

  She led them to a table that was situated next to a large window that overlooked the bustling street. A wall length painting of Charlie Parker was hanging to the right of it.

  “Busy morning?” Brian asked amicably.

  “No,” the girl stammered quickly. “Well, I mean, yes. Well, kind of.”

  She blushed again.

  Good Lord, Destiny thought, suppressing a laugh. She was used to women fawning all over both Dorian and Brian but this poor girl clearly needed to go back to her station before she had an aneurism.

  “India will be your waitress and she’ll be with you shortly.”

  “Thanks,” Brian said, pulling Destiny’s chair back so she could sit down.

  “Sure,” she managed as he sat down in his own chair. She smiled again. Destiny bit her lip and looked up at her, furrowing her brow. She was still just standing there, grinning dumbly at Brian. What was wrong with this girl? She glanced over at Brian. His eyes were amused.

  “Thanks again,” he said deliberately.

  “Oh!” the girl nearly exclaimed, breaking out of her trance, turning red again. “Sure. Thank you.”

  She rushed away. Destiny rolled her eyes and shook her head, glancing at Brian.

  “Do you ever get tired of women acting like that around you?” she wondered aloud. She hung her bag over the back of her chair.

  “Like what?” he asked, innocently, even though he clearly knew what she was talking about.

  She rolled her eyes. “Like they can’t control themselves.”

  He smiled at her and picked up his menu. “Guess it depends on who it is,” he shrugged, looking up to meet her eyes. He held her gaze for a minute. She shifted in her chair and bit her lip, then looked down, studying her own menu.

  “What looks good?” she asked, changing the subject.

  She was having a hard time reading his expressions again and it was bugging her more than usual. He stared at her for a second longer before he finally looked down at the menu.

  “The shrimp po’boy,” he said after a long second.

  On cue, the waitress appeared smiling at them.

  “Yes,” she said, nodding her head enthusiastically, “The shrimp po’boy is delicious.”