The Better Half(71)
“A million is a lot to put toward bleacher upgrades and new uniforms.”
“There’s facilities and uniforms, yes, but that’s the low-hanging fruit, Nina. Courtney and I have a plan and an aggressive timeline to turn the Royal-Hawkins athletic program around. We’re thinking bigger. We can sort details out later, just leave it to me to get the ball rolling. Courtney is on board as my number two,” Winn says confidently, reaching over to pat my shoulder for assurance and for acting as his assist. It gives me the creeps like most interactions with him do. There’s no way I am trusting anything related to Royal-Hawkins to someone I don’t trust.
TWENTY-TWO
For the love of keeping your job, put that finger away,” I say, swiftly grabbing Roan’s pointer finger and giving it a twist. My reflexes are lightning fast despite my vigilant focus on the road in front of me. “I don’t need you AND Google Maps telling me where to go.”
“What you need is for me to drive; you missed our turn.” Roan raises his spare pointer finger and signals me to flip a U-turn. I shut up and do as I’m told. We only have a few hours to get to the bottom of the Burns boys’ application mystery before I have to return to school for an investment committee meeting, and Roan has to be at his weekly Core and More cardio class. Roan and I have been tied to each other’s lives long enough now that I know not to ask what the more stands for.
“You don’t think the boys are home, do you? That’d be super awkward if they are.” I can tell Roan is attempting to mask his discomfort of driving through Crenshaw with chitchat over what a couple of fourteen-year-old boys will think of us while they’re grabbing an after-school snack.
“I bet they’re at practice somewhere. They both play on three different teams,” I offer to calm Roan’s nerves. It’s a guess dressed as fact since it’s winter and these are teenage boys.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Roan agrees, distracted. I can tell he’s looking around for my car’s automatic lock button.
“You’ve never been to Crenshaw, huh?” I ask, figuring if I provoke Roan, it’ll distract him from his concern.
“Please. When was the last time you traveled south of your sleepovers in Silver Lake? Oh, maybe never? That’s what I thought. You’re traveling through foreign country as much as I am, you just blend in better. And I’m not talking about that contour you use.”
Roan’s blathering is interrupting my developing plan to play on our joint sistahood for the meet and greet with Carmel Burns, mother of the basketball prodigies. I let the car crawl down two blocks, finally locating the address we’re looking for, and find a parking spot a half block farther down near the park I suspect was mentioned in the twins’ application essays. After we’ve stopped, I wrestle my blazer off, tossing it in Roan’s lap. I undo one more button of my blouse and shake my shoulders to give my top half a bit more of a casual look. I don’t want to come across too uptight. I’d even take off these pantyhose if I could, but I have Roan and a bulging belly in the car with me today, so I don’t see it happening.
“What, are you planning to seduce Carmel Burns or something?” Roan accuses as I apply a coat of lipstick. I shove my oversize handbag under my front seat. I don’t want to appear like an insurance sales team and have the door slammed in our faces before introductions are made. I give my purse a final swift kick to be sure it’s well hidden, because I also don’t want to return to find my driver’s side window and two weeks’ salary gone.
“You’re out of your mind to leave your purse here. You wouldn’t do that in Malibu, why the hell are you doing it here?” Roan admonishes like I’ve lost my mind.
“I don’t know what kind of mother we’re going to meet, and I most certainly do not want to come across as extra bougie out of the gate. Trust me, this is how Black women size each other up. It’s all about being relatable.”
“Then why am I here? I’m wearing emerald-green suede loafers like some sort of Keebler elf.”
“I need a witness should things go sideways with Carmel. Besides, drama makes you giddy. Consider this field trip a wedding present.”
“Nope. Doesn’t count.” Roan’s injured finger rings the bell. “Let’s do this.”
The door swings open just enough for me to see a woman who’s wearing my hairdo better than I am looking back at me with a hint of suspicion. “Can I help you?”
I do my best to give enough of a smile to convey warmth, but not too over-the-top by showing all my teeth. “Carmel Burns?”
“That’s me. Who’s asking?” This is when I know it’s good I’ve come empty handed, not burdened by a designer handbag and a load of bullshit.
“My name’s Nina Clarke. I’m the head of school at Royal-Hawkins in Pasadena where you’ve applied your sons, Dontrelle and Marcus. This is my colleague Roan Dawson. How are you doing today?” I don’t put my hand out to shake because Carmel still has the security screen shut tight.
“Oh, okay!” Carmel’s tone turns from guarded to flustered. “I’m doing well, thank you. They told me Royal-Hawkins had a Black principal, but I don’t remember them also saying a woman. Come in. Come in.”
Who’s the they Carmel’s talking about? Looking at Roan’s head tilt, I suspect he’s wondering the same thing.