Chapter 6
Getting to know you
Soulé
The shower hissed to a close. My muscles were fatigued from a brutal workout, an hour of sprints and sparring, then another thirty minutes in the ring. It was the ache I craved. The proof.
Proof I was still alive.
Still here. Still hungry.
I wrapped myself in a towel, water running down my legs as I stepped onto the heated marble. The scent of cedar wood drifted through the air, carried by machines I didn’t remember installing. I padded barefoot across the smooth walnut floor.
Maison Nérée’s crown jewel: five thousand one.
Floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the Tampa skyline, glass rising alongside palm silhouettes and ocean haze. Beneath the main level, two steps down, the sunken living room sat like a private amphitheater of indulgence. A storm-gray U-shaped sectional circled a low-glass table, angled toward the statement piece:
My car, a graphite McLaren, was parked behind a panoramic wall on display.
Because this wasn’t only where I lived.
It was where I proved I had made it.
Every element, the designer furniture, the recessed lighting, the imported art, whispered: You did it. You climbed out of the life they said would drown you.
But there were also reminders of where I came from:
On a floating shelf: a faded photo of Mémé and me shelling pistachios on her porch in Fort-de-France, Martinique. Beside it, a chipped mug I’d carried from my first apartment in Tampa. The handle was cracked, but I couldn’t throw it out. I used to drink dollar-store coffee from it while trading on a milk crate that served as my desk. I’d been hungry then, in every way.
I still was.
...
Ana.
I crossed the living room and paused by the windows. The skyline stretched far and wide, with orange hues painting the sunset broad and sweet. But I wasn’t looking at it. Ana on that stage was where my mind wandered. Eyes shut, hands pressed on my head, praying over me like I wasn’t a stranger.
But it wasn’t the prayer that haunted me.
It was the way she prayed.
Not with pity.
Not with judgment.
But with a softness that wrapped around the parts of me I’d long buried.
She didn’t react when I handed her the blank check. Didn’t blink at the sight of me, dressed in a suit, broad-framed and unapologetic.
She laid her hands on me like I wasn’t sin—
Damn, what a devastating woman!
I collapsed onto the sectional, my towel damp against my skin, and I stared out past the glass at the McLaren. The room, silent with the thump of my heart, drumming, trying to catch up with me.
I didn’t do this.
Not for women like her: pure, unsure, still wound in scripture and parental pride. Women who hadn’t made the leap, who might never. The kind of woman who, even standing still, could make you fall.
But was she into women?
I’d learned to read it—curiosity, hesitation, and how someone’s voice altered when their interest betrayed them.
Maybe she didn’t know yet.
Maybe she was asking herself questions she hadn’t dared to speak aloud.
And maybe that’s why I couldn’t get her out of my head.
She resurrected notions—the terrifying gamble of believing in something unseen, something false—and a part of me, against all reason, wanted to believe.
My phone rang. It was Stanley.
“Come on, Soulé,” Stanley joked. “If you’re trying to play it cool for my sake, don’t. You liked her. What do you think?”
I couldn’t even deny it. Since I left the church, Ana haunted me. “Yes, she’s stunning, Stanley, but I couldn’t tell if she was part of the community.”
“You’ll have plenty of chances to talk to her. Lucky for you, I work late on the day of the event. You’ll have to pick her up instead.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why is that? Her parents don’t even know me like that.”
“Don’t worry. We talked a lot about you tonight. They know you’re my friend, and yeah, they know you’re gay. My mom couldn’t help herself.”
I groaned. “Oh great.”
“It’s all good. They’re good people. Show up and pick up Ana in all your glory.”
“Sure,” I muttered.
Stanley snorted. “You’ll thank me later. Ana’s anxious to see you again.”
“Why? Did she say something?”
“Good night, Soulé,” he said before hanging up.
Jerk.
Anxious to see me, you say...
***
The next day, I hit the mall to grab diamond studs and a new watch. The place was crowded for a Monday. I also got fitted for a new suit for the event. I was the one presenting Stanley’s entrepreneurship award. The committee thought it was a great idea, and I agreed. He was my friend after all.
As I was leaving, bag in hand, she appeared before me.
Ana.
She was wearing a rust-toned sundress; her jet-black, cotton-curly hair worshiped the heavens like a divine crown. Cinnamon-brown skin was kissed by the sun between whispered blessings. Her movements, unhurried and graceful, lived in a separate orbit, untouched by urgency. Her curves were shaped by none other than our blessed ancestors.
I believed in God today.
Jesus!
“Ana!” I called without thinking.
She turned, surprised. When she spotted me, her lips parted into a smile that reached her eyes.
“Soulé,” she said, breathy.
My name sounded so good on those lips.
I crossed the distance between us, pulse skipping. “It’s cool bumping into you like this. Shopping for something special?”
She held up her bag. “A dress. For tomorrow.”
“Good call. I got a watch,” I said, lifting my bag. “I’m presenting Stanley’s award.”
Her eyes lit with something like admiration. “Oh, that’s pretty amazing.”
“You’re...” I tried to stop myself, but sense was faster and evaded me, “... amazing, Ana.” (It was too late now). “You’re the vision poets try to pen but could never capture.”
She giggled, soft and low, her eyes darting from her feet to the busy stores. “Whoa!” She quaked astoundingly, failing to hide the smile that split her face. “You’re a charmer, aren’t you?”
“I try to be,” I said.
“Well, thank you,” she shifted on one leg, her fingers worrying a bracelet she wore on her wrist.
“I was about to grab boba. Join me?” I offered.
“Yes, I’d like that.”
***
We sat near a window, outside the food hall, sipping our boba. The golden hour kissed her skin, its last honeyed light poured over her, and her moisturized shoulders were now fringed with a halo of molten gold.
As we talked about Stanley and the award ceremony, she relaxed, but now and then, she’d fidget, adjusting the straw in her drink or fiddling with her bracelet.
“You’re coming to the after-party, right?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I think so. If I won’t be in the way.”
“In the way?” I leaned in, resting my chin on my hand. “Ana, the party’s for Stanley. And Stanley wants you there. That’s what matters. Don’t overthink it.”
She played with her straw. “I don’t always know what to say at those things.”
“Then don’t say much. Show up and be yourself. That’s enough.”
She smiled, her eyes flitting up. “You’re good at this.”
“At what?”
She glanced at me over her drink. “Charming. Easy-going. You know how to turn an awkward moment around.”
“I’ve had to practice a lot with Stanley. He was a walking, awkward apocalypse. You had to be ready to redirect every two minutes.”
She burst out laughing. “Hilarious too. I like that.”
A faint tension built; laughter faded; words were there, but said with our eyes. I wasn’t sure what she was thinking. But in my mind, running amok, was the single question:
Ana, are you a lesbian?
If I asked, I’d probably offend. So, I didn’t.
She cocked her head and asked. “So, where do you live, in case I drop by at the after-party?”
“Maison Nérée. Penthouse five thousand one,” I said.
She blinked, surprised. “You offered that fast.”
I grinned. “I trust you.”
“Oh, do you?” She asked, dropping her hand down with a playful thud. “And what if I had ulterior motives? A grand plan to rob that penthouse blind?”
I tilted my head. “A naughty preacher’s kid? You? That’d be something to see.”
She narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. “Are you underestimating me?”
“No. Never,” I said, sipping my boba. “Besides, I can handle a mischief or two. I’m pretty good at taming naughtiness.”
She didn’t answer right away. But her silence said everything. That faint smirk on those lips as she sipped her boba meant she understood—innocent flirting. Who were we hurting?
“Are you now?” She asked, raising a brow, curiosity flickering in her gaze.
I leaned in, resting an elbow on the table, a grin sliding across my face. “Are you doubting me?”
“No, but I don’t know you well enough to agree.”
“Well,” I said, tapping my fingers against the wood, “get to know me, and maybe I’ll surprise you.”
A crease etched between her brows, her gaze brushing mine before darting away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” I tilted my head, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips, impossible to hide.
She paused. Her eyes dropped to the floor, then flicked back up, searching for something—an answer, an escape.
“Is it because of my lifestyle?” My voice grew quiet, the teasing edge sharpening into something more pointed.
Ana’s breath hitched. She shook her head, fingers tracing invisible lines on the tabletop. “I don’t want to judge, and I don’t want to be rude to you. You seem like a good person—”
“And I am,” I cut in, grinning. “But answer me this, is my being in your life, like this, disrupting your breathing?”
Her head snapped up, pupils dilated with surprise. “No, of course not.”
“Then, my existence doesn’t bother you.” I narrowed my eyes, catching the twitch at the corner of her mouth, the subtle shift in her posture.
“It doesn’t,” she said, her words too quick, brittle at the edges.
I chuckled, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “Good. I was afraid I’d have to disappear dramatically.” I shot her a look, amused. “But since that’s not the case, maybe you could get to know me. I promise I don’t bite... unless there’s a full moon.”
A laugh broke from her, light but real. Her eyes held mine a heartbeat longer than usual. “You’re... persistent.”
“Persistent? I prefer ‘curious.’” My grin grew. “You seem worth knowing. I doubt you’re narrow-minded. That’s what draws me in.”
Her eyes softened, the tension slipping away.
“You’re correct. I’m not narrow-minded as you assume,” she replied, her voice softer, threaded with something almost vulnerable.
“Then, let’s find out,” I said, my tone playful and filled with curiosity. “Tell me something about you that no one else knows.”
She chuckled, a low sound that warmed the space. “That’s a bold request.”
“Curiosity tends to be.” My grin expanded, but behind it, my pulse quickened.
Ana’s fingers traced the rim of her cup’s dome lid, her gaze dropping before meeting mine again. “Okay,” she said, “I’ve always wanted to know how to sail. There’s something about the vastness of the ocean, the way it refuses to be controlled. It calls to me.”
I nodded, captivated by how she shared her words, peeling back a layer only she decided to reveal. “It suits you: drawn to freedom and all that.”
“How do you know?”
I shrugged. “I could tell. And besides, that’s what all of us women truly yearn for. Freedom, the power to choose... and passionate love... that consumes.”
Her eyes gleamed, and I captured that lustrous anthracite, fluttering, shy, and soft. And a smile lingered long on her lips. “Your turn.”
I considered for a moment, then leaned back, letting my guard down a bit. “I’m terrified of standing still. Not physically, but in life. The idea of stagnation unsettles me more than failure ever could.”
The walls around us thinned, breaking down. “Maybe that’s why you’re here,” she whispered, “pushing past curiosity.”
“Maybe.” I agreed, feeling the pull of something deeper than simple intrigue.
She arched an eyebrow, her playful smile returning. “So, what’s next? Are you going to challenge me to a spontaneous sailing adventure? Because I have to warn you, I can’t even row straight.”
I laughed. “I’m not sure I trust you with an oar, let alone a sail. But I’d wager you’d make an excellent pirate.”
And she leaned in, mirroring my posture. “Oh, really? And what does an excellent pirate entail?”
“A hint of mischief, a dash of charm, and an uncanny ability to steal hearts without remorse,” I replied, winking.
She laughed, shaking her head. “Sounds like you’ve got the resume for that job.”
“Maybe I’m just looking for a worthy first mate.” I sipped my boba, eyes never leaving hers.
Ana’s smile lengthened, softening, her gaze holding me, then her eyes dropped down to her cup. A soft chuckle, playful and cute, escaped her throat. She did not answer.
There was something in the way she looked at me, like she wondered... wondered about many things, what I wouldn’t give to appease her curiosity, and my own selfish... sudden intrigue.
What was wrong with me?
Ana’s smile... it cracked me open. Her eyes probed but didn’t judge.
I stopped questioning her orientation. I didn’t care to know if she was lesbian or not. That wasn’t my place to ask, and the guilt crept up beneath.
Lesbianism was more than desire.
It was late, and I didn’t want to keep her long.
I walked with her to her car, and we said our goodbyes.
And I watched her leave.
But one thing was for sure: she was an interesting woman.
***
The night of the event came, and I was ready. My tailored suit hugged me, diamond studs in my ears, a new watch on my wrist, precise with the ticking.
The McLaren, polished to perfection, purred as I pulled up in front of Ana’s house.
I knocked on the door, and a tall, no-nonsense male answered it. It was Ana’s dad. I hadn’t paid much attention to him at church when he preached, and I realized now how daunting he appeared.
Nonetheless, I wasn’t intimidated.
“Good evening, sir. I’m Soulé, Stanley’s friend. I’m here to pick up Ana on his behalf.”
He stared me up and down, then shook my hand. “Well-put together,” he said, but it was a backhanded compliment.
“Thank you, sir. Is Ana ready?”
“Upstairs. Come in.” He stepped aside to let me in.
When I walked in, I was hit with a wave of Caribbean nostalgia: plastic-covered couches, cabinets filled with crystal trinkets, and the faint scent of cloves.
“Please, have a seat.” He offered.
I sat.
He sat across from me, stiff and judging.
“How long have you known Stanley?”
“About ten years. We met in College.”
“I hear you were engaged.”
I nodded. “We did. It didn’t last.”
“Why not?”
“I’m a lesbian, sir.”
He stared. “Why are you a lesbian?”
“Because I am.”
“But why?”
I kept my tone flat. “That’s who I’ve always been.”
“God makes no mistakes.”
“Agreed. I’m exactly who I’m meant to be.”
“Do you believe in God?”
“No, sir.”
His brows rose in dismay. “Then, who do you attribute your success to?”
“Myself. Work. Grit. Knowing how to move when the moment calls.”
He stared, chewing on my words. Before he could retort, Ana’s mother entered, her smile radiating sunshine.
I thanked the Thing I didn’t believe in.
“Hello, I’m Mrs. Célestin. You must be Soulé?”
I stood and shook her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“Mama Davis speaks well of you.”
“I think highly of her, too.”
She cocked her head, curiosity in her eyes. “But why do you dress like a man?”
I paused, choosing my words with caution. “I dress in a way that makes me comfortable.”
“Have you ever worn a dress?” She asked.
“Once upon a time, yes, but I wear confidence better this way.” And I fixed my solid-gold initial cufflinks.
Then the air shifted, and I was unnerved once again.
Ana stood at the top of the stairs.
I thanked the Thing I didn’t believe in—again.
Time folded inward.
High-slit gown. Silk press. That woman was a reckoning. My mouth went dry.
“She’s all yours,” Mrs. Célestin said.
I tore my gaze from Ana. “Yes, ma’am.” And I meant that ‘yes‘ with my chest.
“Be back by midnight,” her father clipped.
What a party pooper.
“Dad, please,” Ana murmured.
He sighed. “Fine... be careful.”
Ana kissed her mom’s and dad’s cheeks. Then, she turned to me with a smile that completely disarmed me.
“Let’s go,” she said, grabbed my offered arm, and we walked out onto the porch.
Outside, I opened the McLaren’s butterfly doors.
“This is your car?”
“One of them.”
She trailed her fingers along the frame as if it were silk. I guided her in, then circled to my side. As the engine purred to life, her eyes found me.
There was something in that silence, the hum bridging us louder than the road’s bustling air. We pulled onto the causeway, and as the skyline blurred into the horizon, I caught her glancing at the buildings ahead.
“Is that where you live?” She asked me.
“Maison Nérée is around here. You’ll see it later tonight,” I replied.
She said nothing, keeping her gaze ahead, her lips parted in thought.