There was uproarious applause and foot stamps and, while I was tempted to be bolstered by the energy, I knew I hadn’t finished. I waited till it died down to add, “Um, also . . . I really, really appreciate you all for supporting Gotta Hear Both Sides, but I can’t be a hypocrite anymore, so in the spirit of transparency . . .” I inhaled deeply and my gaze roamed the crowd to see Malakai stood at the back of the hall, looking straight at me, a hand in his pocket, face carefully inscrutable.
“Malakai and I didn’t start off as a couple.” I nodded at the harsh, hushed shock that flowed through the tables. “It’s kind of a long story but . . . we pretended to be in the relationship for Gotta Hear Both Sides. And I thought . . . there was no risk in faking because I really didn’t think Malakai and I would work.”
Malakai was now looking at his phone, eyes hard. Was he even listening? He glanced up at me for a second, expression unreadable, before he turned away and walked out the doors of the ballroom. In some kind of weird display of masculine solidarity, some other male members of Blackwell left with him. Was that Ty and Kofi? My heart cracked. I had to stay. This was bigger than us. I felt sick. Was I shaking? I heard a heckle from the crowd.
“I’m sorry, you basically lied to us? For weeks? And we’re meant to be cool with this?” The sentiment caught on and the tone of the crowd was more nebulous. I curled my hand into a fist in order to retain my nerve.
I shook my head. “No, you’re not meant to be cool with it. It was a shitty thing to do. I didn’t respect you guys like I should have. And I think, I . . . thought everyone else was performing romance so what I was doing wasn’t technically wrong. But the truth is . . . you lot are so cool and so brave for just going for it. Letting yourself feel. I missed out on so much for so long because I was scared of doing that.”
The tables were silent, looking at me contemplatively, trying to figure out whether they hated me or not. That was fair. Aminah attempted a slow clap that Chioma and Shanti tried to join in on from their table, but it quickly dissipated into a weak patter when they realized nobody was willing to build it to an applause.
I wet my lips. “Uh, so, anyway . . .”
Someone put their hand up and Simi signalled at someone to pass them a mic. I said it was an open forum and anything went. The person was Zuri. I instantly regretted the decision.
“Okay, I hear the political shit, and we care, and we agree that Zack is a Wasteman but . . . back to you and Malakai, you were faking this whole time?”
I’d committed to honesty, and there was a picture of me in my underwear on the screen behind me so I figured that there wasn’t much more to expose. Malakai had left the room, but the truth was still the truth. Blackwell had told me so much about themselves. I owed them the same vulnerability.
“Well. No. We became a real couple. And . . . actually, I don’t think I was faking any of the time. I just didn’t know it. From the moment I met Malakai it’s like something fundamental in me knew. He’s thoughtful and gentle. He has a stillness that calms me. He’s infuriating and he makes really corny jokes and he makes me smile even when I don’t want to. Especially when I don’t want to. And I tell him he’s the worst, and he is, because he’s annoying, so fucking annoying, because there is no hiding when I’m around him. Completely fucks up my guards.
“He’s the worst in the sense that he’s the best. And I think I lashed out at him because I was scared of how much I liked him. It’s kind of a mess. But I’ve decided that I’m good with that. Sometimes beautiful things get messy. Mess is okay. I learnt about myself. I’ve learnt to let myself enjoy things. I’ve also learnt how cool it is to like someone and be liked back.” I released a wan smile.
“I’ve learnt to trust that I can be liked with no agenda. Knowing that in theory is different to knowing that in practice.” I inhaled deeply and pushed out brightness onto my face, dug up from my reserves. “So . . . are we good? Or do I need to spill all my tea right now?”
The audience seemed to forgive me, and more congenial murmurs filled the hall, quiet discussion loosening the tension just as Aminah rushed to the stage. She grabbed the microphone from my grip while I stared at her in confusion.
“Hi, all! It’s MinahMoney on the mic! Producer and PR extraordinaire. Wassup? Okay, so as you know, this is a live Brown Sugar show with a twist. Later on, we’re allowing people to send questions, put their hand up, or call in to ask for advice or request a bop. But first, we have a sponsor that would love to play a message. Okay. Thanks!”