"The world is so dramatic
I can't believe
That we're still livin'
Oh in this crazy crazy world
That I'm still livin'

With all the problems of the day
How can we go on
So tired of hearing people say how can we go on

Fantasy people
Make believe people
How can you go on
But you're still livin'…"

Erykah Badu—"Drama"

N'Jobu scurried along the sidewalk trying to keep up with Califia. When she reached his car, she stood in silence and waited for him to leave.

"Califia, I told you the truth. I deleted the numbers. I just missed hers."

She ignored him. Waited for him to get in his car and go.

"You don't even want to discuss it?"

"I saw you with her twice. I saw how you were around her at the bookstore. She's not just one of your regular jump offs. I can tell. You might think it was an accident that you forgot to delete her, but I don't. I believe in subconscious behavior."

"What does that even mean? I am here with you. I want to be with you. You saw me delete her number in front of you."

He turned her body to face him. She felt stiff and standoffish.

"I don't understand why you are so upset over an accident."

He handed his phone to her.

"Go ahead, go through my phone. Ask me about anyone there. I don't even keep my phone locked."

N'Jobi wondered if Bridgette's avatar photo had been different, would it even matter to Califia so much. As it stood, the moment Bridgette's photo popped on his phone, they both saw her suggestive pose, an index finger held between her teeth, breasts propped up with her other hand, inside a tight-fitting deep cleavage pink t-shirt.

She ignored his phone.

"Thanks for the food, N'Jobu."

Her voice sounded cool. Indifferent. Minutes before he could've been pounding her on her grandmother's couch, making her forget her own name, and now she was acting like she didn't want to know him.

"Califia, come on…"

"N'Jobu, it's cool. It was just a slip-up. Let's just say goodnight."

"I can't just say goodnight. I have to make sure we're good. Are we good?"

She nodded. He put his arms around her and she held him with a cautious energy that he didn't like.

"I don't want to leave with you acting like this."

"She caught me off guard, okay?"

"You believe me, right?"

She still wouldn't look at his face. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close, moving his face close to hers.

"I'm sorry. I feel like I'm apologizing to you a lot. I don't want you to feel insecure about us. And I know that's what you're probably thinking right now. That you can't trust me. I'm not like these other men who run around lying just to get with someone and still have their side chick. If I wanted Bridgette, I would be with her or any of the others right now. I would have my phone locked. I could be in her bed in a few minutes if I really wanted that. But I don't. I want you…"

He kissed her forehead and tried to kiss her lips, but she turned her head away.

"Don't be like this, Califia."

"You just have so many of them."

"But I'm done with that now."

"I want to believe you."

"I would never lie to you. I have nothing to gain by it except losing you. I already told you before, my time now is just finishing school and being with you."

He kissed her lips again, and she didn't pull away.

"You are my woman, okay? The only one."

He slipped his tongue in her mouth and she accepted it, his slow deep kisses relaxing her arms so that she placed them around his waist. He could feel her body going loose, her lips bending to his will. She was his, and he wasn't going to let her fears of other women cripple their fragile beginning as a couple. He pulled away from her.

"I'll do whatever it takes to make you feel comfortable," he said.

She nodded her head and pushed back away from him.

"Call me tomorrow," she said.

"Get in, I'll take you back up to the house."

"I can walk."

"For my peace of mind, please?"

He opened the passenger door and she got in. They were quiet for the short drive around the corner. She gave him a slight peck on his cheek as she stepped out of his car. She didn't look back or wave to him.

###

Califia went to the clinic where she got her regular contraceptives. She was due for a re-supply and a check-up. Sitting in the waiting room and waiting for her name to be called, she thought about Bridgette popping up on N'Jobu's phone. He was so quick to apologize and tried his best to reassure her. She didn't know him long enough to know his tells if he was a liar, but she felt that his vibe was honest. She didn't think of him as promiscuous in the negative sense. He was selective with his women, at least the ones he met. And he was very adamant that they were now a couple, and this began to worry her because now that she had him, she wondered if she would measure up sexually to his previous conquests.

She liked sex, considered herself a sensual person, but their physical connection was so extreme in feeling, and they hadn't even had intercourse yet, so she wondered if their build-up would turn into a bust. She'd had sexual incompatibility before, a boyfriend early in her college life who came too fast, and got frustrated because it took her forever to orgasm. Prior to intercourse they had been hot and heavy, and after a couple of hook-ups, it was clear their sex life was more work than it was worth, and she broke it off rather than fake orgasms for a guy who couldn't share pleasure and patience. She and Xavier had a better go at it because he had stamina, but there were still times when she felt rushed, or he was growing tired of the long bouts of foreplay that she needed to become truly ready.

The worst part was Xavier's fixation with just the parts of her body and not her whole being during sex. Sometimes he wouldn't even look at her, so busy trying to screw her like he was making some porn video in his own mind. The thing she disliked most was how he was so quiet when he came. Sometimes he would be vocal, talk dirty to her (if she pestered him during the act about it), but most times he was only grunting a few times and then seizing up when he ejaculated. His love language in bed was to act like he was in a library and had to keep it down, por favor.

N'Jobu was not shy about letting her know what he was feeling and how he was feeling it. That excited her the most. He talked, demanded responses, and whatever his body was feeling he let her know about it. And the spanking….holy moly. He was the perfect storm for what she needed, but now she was having doubts about consummating it. If they were a mismatch, would he go back to his other women? Would he break up with her? Give her the old, let's-just-be-friends routine? Or worse, just ghost her?

After her clinic visit with her new re-supply of birth control pills, Califia went home to her grandmother's house and sat on the couch watching tv and snacking on leftover pizza her cousin bought. She got a text from her job requesting her to work on Thanksgiving and she accepted the hours. She needed them. Her trip to Brazil would be arriving before she knew it, and she wanted to buy souvenirs and new clothes for the trip.

She saw a text from N'Jobu light up her phone screen. He told her he was finishing the book "Beloved" and asked what he should bring for Thanksgiving dinner. She suggested a dessert. He texted that he would make a special pie. She sent him a thumbs up emoji.

Back at her grandmother's her thoughts relaxed enough so that she had convinced herself not to trip out about sex with N'Jobu. New sex was always awkward and not always great for most people. It took time to know each other physically just as it took time to know someone mentally. The plus side was that he had made her cum already, and it didn't take all night, and she didn't think about it when she was with him. He just pulled it out of her because she was so turned on by him. All she needed to do was slow down all the physical contact they had and focus on the mental. They were a couple. The mind was the sexiest thing on a man to her. N'Jobu had a sexy mind, she could tell by their book conversations.

Even though she had fine dudes sliding into her direct messages on social media (even some who were Xavier's friends), she only had eyes for N'Jobu. He said he wanted her and only her. She would embrace that.

###

The crack of dawn's ass. That's what Bakari said. N'Jobu drove them in the dark to Pier thirty-three where he parked his car and waited for the ferry boat to take them to Alcatraz. Large groups of people began boarding the boat that would spirit them away to the island in ten minutes, and N'Jobu found himself looking around for Califia. He was relieved when he saw her walking with Rolita and Soliel down the boarding ramp.

He gave her a tight hug and he was happy when she kissed him on the lips. Not quite a peck, but not a deep lunging of tongues. The perfect amount of pressure to let him know they were okay. For now. He held onto her hand as they all found seats on the boat. It was dark, chilly, and the crowd appeared somber…no not somber. Expectant? Cautious? Reverential maybe?

It was Thanksgiving. And also, Indigenous People's Day.

Their boat headed out for Alcatraz Island and N'Jobu wrapped his arms around Califia's shoulder and pulled her in close. She kept her eyes closed, cat-napping and occasionally adjusting the angle of her head on his chest. She wore two French braids in her hair and an oversized black sweatshirt with an old photo of fierce Lakota Natives on it with the caption "Boarding School Drop Outs".

Seated next to him was Rolita who wore her own red politicized t-shirt that said, "Natives Discovered Columbus". Rolita had her eyes open, watching the dark water they glided across. A young Native woman sat across from them all gently rolling a long leather covered shaker in her hand and softly singing in her own language. She was accompanied by a young man no older than eighteen who beat a small hand drum with a drumstick. The sound was relaxing and very soothing as N'Jobu held Califia.

Once they reached Alcatraz, they all followed the throng of people as they made their way to an open space where a large bonfire was already burning and a group of Native women with flowing skirts were walking around it, burning sage. The crowd was quiet as they stood gathered around it in a wide circle that gave the Native women a respectful distance.

Glancing around, N'Jobu saw various people he assumed were from various Native groups based on their traditional clothing and jewelry. Some people wore face paints, others wore their culture in their hair, or on their ears and wrists. Grandmothers, grandfathers, children, and babies were held in high esteem. Rolita went to stand with some people from her tribe for a moment. There were whites, Blacks, some Asians among a smattering of Latinos with and without Indigenous roots. People sat on the ground or stood a good distance away to watch the ceremony.

Looking up, N'Jobu could still see the moon in the sky. He placed Califia in front of himself and wrapped his arms around her as the crowd grew larger.

"Look at the moon," he said.

Her eyes followed the guide of his finger towards the blue-black sky and the silvery-white of a waxing moon.

"Inyanga," he said in his language.

"Luna, Lua. Spanish and Portuguese. Wonewsleg, in Yurok."

"How many languages can you speak?"

"I'm fluent in Spanish and can do very well in Portuguese too. I'm learning a little Yurok from Rolita. She is fluent in Spanish too. What about you?"

"Wakandan, Xhosa, English, Korean, and passable French."

"Impressive," she said.

"You too."

"I would like to learn more. My Dad said it was important to be able to speak to people outside of America. My mother was a fluent Spanish speaker, and living out here makes it easy to learn. Most people don't even try."

"I will teach you my language then."

"Cool. When I have kids one day, I will make sure they are polyglots."

"My parents made sure I mastered at least three before I was eighteen," he said.

"Being a diplomat, language mastery is a given," she said.

She had opened a door to his curiosity.

"How many children would you like to have one day?" he asked.

She leaned her head back into his chest a bit.

"I'm not trying to have children anytime soon, not until I'm in my late thirties at least. When I have them, I think two would be my limit. A girl and a boy would be nice. A good balance. What about you?"

"However many my wife wants to carry. I am open."

He felt his stomach clench at the word wife. He should've said something simple like two or three, but already he was programmed to think of a spouse, and he had probably hurt her feelings by reminding her that they would not have that type of future together.

"You have any preferences?" she asked, her voice a bit smaller.

"No, not really, although I could imagine a small tribe of girls with your personality."

She laughed, and he mentally cursed himself for mentioning children that would be like her, when he knew he shouldn't project her in anything tied to him. It was time to change the subject.

"How long have you been coming to this with Rolita?"

"Since I was little. My parents were really big on giving Native people their due, and my Dad was…is… tight with Rolita's father. Rolita's mom is half Mexican, so we were always around different people with Indigenous roots. People from Central America and South America, that's how I know Soliel. When I first started doing capoeira, her parents used to come here as guest teachers. I would see Soliel maybe once every two years, and then she ended up going to the same University as me…on purpose…and we built this community of women who are all about making progressive change. We can't depend on men anymore."

"That sounded a little…rough?"

"It's true. Men ruin every good movement that tries to uplift people. It's historical fact," she said turning to look at him. She had a smile on her face, but she was dead serious.

"Me and my girls are working to empower women on a global scale. Men can participate, but they will not run things anymore if I can help it."

"You sound like a—"

"Misandrist?"

"Yes."

"History is on my side, mister man."

Her face had a playful smirk, but she wasn't playing with her words.

"Luckily, in my country, we believe in equality for our women—"

"Our women?"

"You know what I mean, Califia."

"Just checking."

"Look," he said.

She turned her head and they could see the faint light of the sun announcing its presence. A group of Aztec dancers with long elaborate feathers in their headdresses began circling around the fire. An elder blew a large conch shell trumpet heralding the arrival of the sun.

N'Jobu and Califia, along with all the other spectators, watched in awe as the sun rose above the city. The gradual lightening of the sky, the tinkling sounds of the beads and shells on the Aztec dancer's feet and the steady thump of a drum ushered in the sunrise. N'Jobu had his cheek next to Califia's temple and he kissed it when the warm rays of the sun struck their faces.

"Thank you for letting me be here with you," he said.

"Rolita was really happy you came. I am too."

He rocked her in his arms as they listened to prayers, political speeches, and songs sung by different Native groups that were present. He learned the history of Alcatraz's first sunrise service back in 1969 when some young Native people illegally occupied the island. He listened with rapt attention to the pain the people present still felt. It was a tangible hurt that undercut the celebration in N'Jobu's mind, made him feel the bloody footprints of Manifest Destiny.

When it was time to leave, Rolita and Soliel rejoined them along with Bakari, and for the first time, N'Jobu realized his entire time there was wrapped up with Califia and what was happening in front of him. Being with her dropped blinders around him. All he could see was her and whatever she directed his attention to, and he found this to be quite pleasant, a state of being he wanted more of.

"What time should we roll over to Nana J's?" Bakari asked.

"Noon. They start early so folks can make their rounds and get ready for the games later," Califia said. N'Jobu still had her wrapped up in his arms while standing behind her.

"Cool, cuz N'Jobu still has to bake his pies, and I need to make my salad," Bakari said.

"We're going to have breakfast then head to the house," Califia said.

They all walked together with the crowd heading to the boats that would take them back to the pier.

The ride back to the mainland was more jovial, and N'Jobu was happy that the boat was crowded enough so that Califia had to sit on his lap. She kissed him a couple of times and his heart was at ease.

They all went their separate ways, but once he was in the car with Bakari, he found his friend watching him like a hawk.

"What?" N'Jobu asked.

"Nothing, man. I'm just looking at you."

"For a reason."

"Chill, it's just…I mean…you look really happy, dude."

N'Jobu nodded.

"I am."

###

N'Jobu could hear Aretha Franklin's "Rock Steady" thumping inside as he and Bakari walked up the stairs of Califia's house.

A few children of elementary age were scattered about the steps with toys and cell phones playing games. N'Jobu carefully made his way up carrying the two pies he baked. Bakari carried a large plastic bowl filled with an avocado salad.

Kenny opened the front door.

"Hey man, w'sup!" Kenny called, taking one of the pies from N'Jobu's hand.

"Kenny, good to see you again," N'Jobu said.

"Come inside and meet my grandmother," Kenny said.

Inside, the house was loud, filled with family members laughing, the savory aroma of food floating out from the kitchen, and Junie fighting to open up a folding table. Califia was trying to help him.

"I said I got it,' Junie said, blocking Califia's hands. Junie saw N'Jobu.

"Oh, snap, Wakanda's in the house!" Junie said, finally getting the folding table open.

Califia gave N'Jobu a hug and took the pie he held from his hands.

"Nana, Califia's boyfriend is here," Kenny said walking into the kitchen.

N'Jobu followed after Kenny with Califia on his heels.

Nana Jean was standing over the kitchen stove pouring hot brown gravy over a giant Turkey that took up half the stove top. A middle-aged woman with Califia's coloring stood next to Nana Jean drinking a wine cooler. The woman's eyes dragged up and down N'Jobu's visage.

"Wait, what happened to that other one?" the woman asked, looking at Califia.

"Nana, this is N'Jobu," Califia said, her voice a bit circumspect.

Nana Jean stopped pouring gravy over the meat and wiped her hands on a kitchen towel hanging from the oven handle. N'Jobu could see where Califia got her eyes from. Nana Jean had a striking sloe-eyed gaze that she scanned N'Jobu with. Thick untamed eyebrows rested on a round face that held a graceful vigor despite the advanced age. N'Jobu thought to himself, if Califia retained this much youthful beauty when she got older, heaven help her future husband if he couldn't keep up. Nana Jean was a looker for the ages. A world-class face.

"Mrs. Stevens, thank you for allowing me into your home. I brought some pies that I made myself. An old recipe from my family back home."

Califia showed Nana Jean the pie she held.

"That looks wonderful, young man. Is that sweet potato?"

"Yes, but with potatoes from my homeland. It's a little sweeter than the ones from here."

"He made two," Kenny said, putting the other pie on a table filled with covered dishes and two cakes.

"Thank you, N'Jobu," Nana Jean said, "we'll be eating soon, I hope you brought a strong appetite,"

"I did, yes ma'am—"

"How old are you?" the other woman standing next to Nana Jean asked.

"Aunt Tracey," Califia hissed, rolling her eyes.

"Twenty-five," N'Jobu said, his eyes not flinching from Tracey's astute gaze.

"Hmmm, you seem older. I mean you look young, but you sound older," Tracey said putting the wine cooler to her lips and drinking.

"Come meet everyone else," Califia said, grabbing N'Jobu's hand.

Bakari walked in with his salad.

"Ooh! Bakari, be my partner for bid whist later!" Tracey yelled when she saw him. Bakari gave Nana Jean a kiss on the cheek and placed his salad in the fridge.

"Naw, you be wanting to fight when you lose," Bakari said leaving the kitchen.

"Make yourself welcome," Nana Jean said starting to fuss with a pot of greens simmering on the stove.

As they left the kitchen, N'Jobu heard Tracey tell Nana Jean, "Lil mama brought a man home this time. Guess she's done with them raggedy boys she's used to." It made N'Jobu smile to himself.

Califia made swift work of presenting him to different relatives scattered throughout the house. He was happy to see Rolita and Soliel chilling in the small family room, already caught up in a game of spades with two of Califia's female cousins who were in their thirties.

The impression he was getting from her family's reaction to him was that Califia had dated some less than stellar guys. A few mentioned Xavier, but when Califia wrenched her gaze away from them at the mention of her ex, the name disappeared for the rest of the day.

Two dinner tables were set up for the adults and a smaller children's table was set up in the family room. All the grown folks sat in the diningroom and livingroom. Because he was a special guest, N'Jobu and Califia sat in the diningroom next to Nana Jean.

Kenny said the prayer for the meal, and N'Jobu fell into the Stevens family groove, enjoying the feel of being around a family who loved one another. He sensed some small friction with some family members toward Califia, but not enough to spoil the day.

The food was delicious and Nana Jean kept filling up N'Jobu's plate. She asked him questions about his family, where he was from, and what he was hoping to accomplish with a master's. Between bites of food, he snuck peeks at Califia. She appeared luminous in a yellow off the shoulder sweater. Her two French braids that dipped to her shoulder blades made her look like a sweet innocent seventeen-year-old instead of a twenty-three-year-old almost college graduate.

Watching her interact with her grandmother made him miss sitting and talking with his own mother. Califia laughed a lot around Nana Jean, and there were moments when N'Jobu caught Nana Jean giving Califia loving gazes when her granddaughter was speaking to someone else.

Every now and then N'Jobu and Califia would glance up from their plates and lock eyes by accident, and N'Jobu would feel a stirring in his chest, a desire to reach across the table and clasp her hand in his, and then it was happening again, those blinders would fall over him and all he could focus on was her. All he could see was the way her lips curled when she was being snarky to Junie, how her feline eyes would look sardonic when her Aunt Tracey tried to throw shade at her, or how her cheekbones looked like round plumbs inside her equally round face.

His eyes raked across her bare shoulders and he marveled at the elegance of her neck, remembering the last time he planted salacious kisses there when he had a wrapped condom gripped between his teeth as Califia was sliding her jeans down on her grandmother's couch…

N'Jobu reached for a glass of water near his plate.

"You okay?"

Califia watched him from across the table.

"I am great. Full to the brim," he said, trying to ignore her neckline.

"We'll have some of that pie a little later,' Nana Jean said.

People began to push away from the table, so N'Jobu helped Califia clear up their plates and Nana Jean's leftovers. Junie already had a football game on with Kenny right next to him. Rolita and Soliel had to go plates made for them as they were on their way out to visit other houses and relatives.

N'Jobu took the shifting of activities as an opportunity to look around the family room. There was an unused fireplace with a mantle above that held pictures, and a certain set caught N'Jobu's eye. It was a series of four photos in one long frame. He moved closer to look at it. The first was just a photo taken from inside a dark room of some kind, with the lens focused on the light coming from outside a doorway that faced an ocean. The second photo was of a small boy, around nine or ten with glasses and a serious face standing in front of the doorway looking straight at the camera. The third picture was…

"That's me and Bakari," Califia said.

She stood next to N'Jobu, and picked up the long frame and held it close for N'Jobu to inspect.

In the third picture, Califia looked to be about seven years old, pigtails all over her head with baubles and barrettes. She was snaggle-toothed and smiling as her hands pressed against the doorway as she stuck one leg inside bent at the knee in short pants as if the photographer caught her in mid-stride running into the dark room.

"Goree Island. Senegal," she said.

"Ah, the Doorway of No Return," N'Jobu said.

"We were part of a tour group with our parents. My mother took the pictures. The tour guide had just given this chilling and heartbreaking story about the enslaved and what they went through being there and having to walk out of that door for the last time. Can you imagine? Your last time seeing your homeland? Your people? Family? Chained up and stuffed into a boat that might not even make it across the Atlantic."

Califia took a small breath to calm the tremble in her voice.

"Bakari put on this serious face, but I gave this big giant smile. When my parents asked me why I was smiling when we had just heard the history, I mean some horrible fucked up history…I just…I just wanted my ancestors to know that we made it, y'know? I wanted to show them that we were strong and brave and that they could rest easy. They didn't need to be sad anymore. The simple thinking of children, huh?"

Her words sunk into his soul. The last photo was of Bakari and Califia standing outside the doorway staring at the water.

"I know Black Americans always talk about what happened to us here. But sometimes I wonder if our people over there ever think about what happened to us. I mean, I imagine some mother or father, someone's husband or wife, or grandparent having these moments like maybe a few years after the fact…just imagining what happened to us. Do you think there are people over there who think about us today like that?"

"The lost ones," N'Jobu said, feeling his throat trying to close up. He pushed back on it, clearing his vocals. She looked at him, her eyes searching his face.

"Yes. Lost forever. Do you think they do, N'Jobu? Think about us?"

He put the photo back down on the mantle. He held her hand in his as he gazed at the photos again, especially her cherubic face, her missing bottom teeth, and her scrappy triumphant smile.

"My people never experienced enslavement. Nor colonization. Where we are located geographically blessed us from being reached. But I imagine if my people experienced that, they would think of you all for the end of their days."

Califia's eyes brimmed with tears, and N'Jobu pulled her in for a hug. Her breath was heavy and warm against his neck.

He thought about the Native sunrise service on Alcatraz Island and Rolita standing with her people. His feeling the wet tears from Califia staining his skin. He thought about the Toni Morrison book he just finished that dealt with the end of slavery in this troubled country. These indigenous people, these African Americans, these lost ones, they were both a haunted people. Their pain rooted in a past so foreign to him, that N'Jobu could only experience it through her. This past shrouded everything these people did. It strangled their progeny. It was just too much. His people lived deep in the bosom of a wildly tech-heavy and prosperous hidden nation. Their eyes blazed with the future. Califia and her people? Their past strangled them, rending them stuck and unable to move forward. How many more people thought the way Califia did? How many Black people in this country carried that burden so heavy like this? He could not live there like that. It would kill his spirit.

"Baby," he said, lifting her head up. Her eyes were slightly red and still a bit watery, "I'm so thankful for you, and that your ancestors made it. You are going to do so much to change the world. Hold onto that."

She nodded and he kissed her forehead. He needed this girl to win. He needed to make her life easier. Take her burdens away from her.

"Aye, they're eating your pie, man," Kenny said, passing by the family room.

N'Jobu led Califia into the diningroom. Nana Jean was digging into a huge bite of pie.

"N'Jobu," she said, "this is so wonderful. It just melts in your mouth."

Califia looked around the table where all the desserts had been placed out for everyone to choose from. Both of N'Jobu's tin plates were empty.

"All the pie is gone?!" Califia lifted up a pie tin and crumbs fell around her fingers.

Junie was stuffing the last vestiges of pie down his throat with his fingers.

"It was good as hell too," he said.

N'Jobu felt that Califia was about to pitch a fit.

"I have another in the car," he said taking his keys out of his pocket. "I was saving it for you."

"Smart man, especially with these bottom-less stomachs," Califia said, hugging him.

He walked her outside to his car that was parked blocks away.

"You know what. Just leave it in the car, for now, I'll take it to work with me and share it with my co-workers."

"You have to work tonight?"

"Yeah. Later this evening. I'm catching some extra hours. Tips are really good on holidays."

His eyes shifted to the ground in disappointment.

"I wanted to hang with you tonight."

"We can do that all day tomorrow. I promise. I need the money. I'll be in Brazil this summer, so I have to get my money straight."

He nodded in understanding. She hugged him tightly.

"I'm so happy you're here. You made it easier for me to be around my family."

"They're very nice people.'

"Most of them. Some of them get on my nerves, which I won't get into. You already saw that my Aunt Tracey is one of my least favorite people. I saw her checking for you."

N'Jobu's face grimaced, "She was not."

"Keep thinking that. Don't let her get you alone. She's in the market for a new husband."

They walked back to the house just in time to get swept into a game of spades against Bakari and Nana Jean.

###

By the time ten o'clock rolled around, N'Jobu had won three games of spades, two hands of dominoes, and the chance to have dinner with Aunt Tracey at her place. Califia had showered and changed clothes to go to work, but she invited N'Jobu to stay longer if he wanted. She had tossed her backpack on her shoulders, kissed Nana Jean, and bid farewell to the rest of her family as he watched her hop on her bike.

He wanted her to spend the night with him. He had so much of the day that he wanted to process with her, but she promised that they would have the entire next day together.

"My family really likes you," she said, sitting on her bike and adjusting her helmet.

"You be careful on the road. You sure you don't want me to drive you?"

"Baby, I'm good. Go hang with Kenny. I know he's dying to talk soccer with you."

She kissed him and took off.

He joined the rest of the family, mainly to be polite, but he did feel that her family had embraced him totally. Nana Jean had said goodnight to him before Califia left, and most of the family had bid farewell in small groups. All that was left was Kenny, Junie, Bakari, and two other male uncles who were still eating and watching tv.

He got into another spades game with Bakari and the cousins when he remembered Califia wanted to take her pie to work. He was ready to go home so he decided to drop it off to her. Bakari was on his way out too, a plate in his hand as usual.

"Bakari, what's the name of the restaurant Califia works at again? The Blue something," he asked, pulling out his phone to get directions.

"The Blue Rose. But um…listen, that ain't no restaurant. It's a strip club," Bakari said.

N'Jobu pried his eyes away from his phone and his now dark penetrating gaze was fixed on Bakari.

"Where is it located?" he asked.

###