"Are you ready? Check.
Are you able? Yes, I am.
To lift off with us tonight? Sign me up.
Are you tired? So tired.
Of running' round? Gettin' nowhere.
Wishing you were somewhere else? Sign me up.
Just lift off, up, up, and away
Just lift off, up, up, and away
Just lift off, up, up, and away
Just lift off and up with us…."
Groove Collective – "Lift Off"
T'Challa sat on his throne and listened to Elder Bhira and Elder M'Kathu voice their concerns about Erik. M'Kathu's wide, keloid decorated face raged with fiery anger and his nostrils flared with indignation.
"My king, this man is not fit to be placed on the thrown by us willingly. He has not changed and I fear this is a disaster in the making. There is no reasoning with him. Prince N'Jadaka made it seem as if he will be a benign leader, but you should have seen his face. There is a viciousness there and I see the making of a despot," M'Kathu said.
"What do you say, Elder Bhira?" T'Challa asked.
Bhira's tight eyes were slightly less heated-looking than M'Kathu's. He touched the side of his nose with deep contemplation.
"The prince has a bold vision, but I think he will cause Wakanda to face unnecessary friction with other nations. He will rule with an iron fist. There is no doubt about that. What worries me, Your Highness, is his lack of trust in the Council of Elders. He wants to meet and make decisions with people not qualified to have a hand in shaping the legacy of our people. These are the same people who plotted with his father to overthrow King T'Chaka. Can we trust their intentions will be to lead us, and not seek revenge once Prince N'Jadaka is in power?" Bhira said.
"His words about you were very disrespectful. He challenged your ability to lead as if you were never brought up to handle the responsibility of a king. This man only knows hate and vengeance. He is unfit for the throne. Unfit I tell you!" M'Kathu said.
T'Challa rubbed his chin.
"He underestimates my skills. This is true. My cousin speaks with passion, but I do not think he will run us into the ground. One of the biggest strengths we have to reign in N'Jadaka's overreach is my grandparents. He listens to them. King Father Azzuri can serve as a mentor—"
"With all due respect, King T'Challa, we cannot depend on your grandparents to wrangle your cousin as if the country is being run by a spoiled child. The Council of Elders are the mentors and the guidance he needs. He must defer to us or else there will be chaos in this palace and wars out in the world. You went to the United Nations with an open, friendly hand. How will it look to go back on that promise with a raised fist?" M'Kathu said.
"Do Elder Efetobo and Elder Zinzi feel as you both do?" T'Challa asked.
"They did not push back on anything he said. Just sat there taking in his words." Bhira said.
Okoye stepped into the room.
"King T'Challa, Steve Rogers, and James Buchanan are here at your request," she said.
"Show them in," T'Challa said.
M'Kathu and Bhira bowed to T'Challa and made their leave.
A sullen-faced Captain America and a cautious Winter Soldier stepped into the grand center and faced the king.
"I will send you to America tomorrow with the probes. Barnes will remain here. Shuri is creating another new arm for him. She has come up with a better design and wants to monitor your transition out of cryostasis longer. Prince N'Jadaka has been experiencing some neural issues and we want to make sure you are completely well before sending you out," T'Challa said.
Barnes glanced at Steve.
"Is that a polite way of saying I'm being held prisoner?" Barnes said.
"If I wanted you held as a prisoner, I would simply put you back in cryostasis or a cell. Shuri made the call and you are under her care," T'Challa said.
T'Challa pointed to the council seats, and the men sat down.
"Your president called me this morning, and we have scheduled an international visit with the G20 Summit to be hosted here. Wakanda has been invited to become a member. I have scheduled another multinational visit here before then, with various American leaders attending. I am sure they will ask you to return with that delegation, Steve. The leadership agreed for Barnes to remain in Wakanda until the summit. They are still nervous about your deprogramming," T'Challa said.
"They don't trust your medical advances to cure me?" Barnes asked.
"I was told it was a national security measure. You shall remain a guest."
Steve sighed and took a moment to admire the throne room. His gaze swept over the immense pillars and regal setting.
"I was hoping we would leave one another on better terms. I get the sense that it's you who don't trust us," Steve said.
"My status as a world leader has made me more pragmatic and cautious. On top of that, I have the terrorist attacks here to consider. Wakanda will always take precedence over whatever the American government feels about me trusting them or not."
"Sounds like your cousin has been bending your ear," Steve said.
"His is a smart man with a definite slant on how your country operates."
Barnes rolled his eyes.
"Blood is thicker than water, even hostile blood," Barnes quipped.
T'Challa ignored the comment. He noticed more overtly the entitlement these men had even inside a sovereign nation. Diplomacy required that he hold his tongue. Steve must've picked up on his annoyance.
"I understand the pressure you're under. You have hosted us well and we both truly appreciate that," Steve said.
Okoye returned.
"The forensics team awaits your presence," she said.
T'Challa stood. Both men took a keener interest in their surroundings, marveling at the grandeur even more.
"Okoye, arrange a tour of the palace for our guests. Stay with them until dinner," T'Challa said.
He made a show of shaking Steve's and Barnes' hands before leaving.
###
T'Challa flew to the Wakandan military installation near a mud water lake and disembarked with quick steps. His top military aides joined him in entering a heavily secured building where the forensics team awaited him. Nakia's facial expression fixed itself into an intense staring at all the items on a large white table that were labeled. T'Challa slipped protective gloves on his hands and lifted the sealed items. The Border Tribe blanket was the first item that caught T'Challa's eye. One of Nakia's kimoyo tracker beads sat embedded in the fabric.
"We downloaded sound and images from the tracker probe, but were unable to clearly identify all the spies," said a male examiner.
A female examiner approached the table and held up a thin screen tab for T'Challa to examine.
"Niganda's surveillance vids show three individuals working in tandem. They have been visiting the area for months. One of them became careless, and we were able to snatch a facial profile. Our facial recognition scan identified him as Githingi Wairimu, a Nigandan national with ties to a mercenary group working throughout east Africa for a Chinese investment firm branching out into Ethiopia, Kenya, Niganda, and Tanzania," the female examiner said.
Wairimu's image shimmered into view above the table. Reed thin with slight yellow discoloration in the whites of his eyes, the handsome spy looked lean and mean, with narrow lips held in a permanent scowl.
"We have an extraction team searching for him now through our War Dogs already planted in Niganda. We expect to locate him soon," Nakia said.
The rest of the evidence consisted of tire tracks, footprints, and a damaged cell phone.
"Notify me when you catch him. I will bring N'Jadaka in then," T'Challa said, "Is there anything else?"
A few of the military staff looked away, and the forensic experts glanced at Nakia. She turned to him with hesitation.
"Nakia?"
"They were able to salvage some untraceable coded text from the damaged phone. Security codes that could only be accessed from within the palace that gave them direct passage into the Hall of Panthers. This was an inside job using outside help you suspected. We have proof now," Nakia said.
"Find that man," T'Challa said through gritted teeth. "Come with me."
Nakia followed him into the hall.
"My grandparents are returning with my uncle's remains. His wife's too. I would like for you to be there with me when they come home," he said.
"That is a private family affair. I did not know your uncle well enough to justify my presence there," she said.
"You are close with my family. There for us when my father was entombed. I loved my uncle very much and it will be a difficult time for us to face him coming home at last. I would like a dear friend there with me by my side," he said.
"Will N'Jadaka be upset with my presence?"
"I do not believe so. He will be in his own head. I need someone to lean on."
Nakia touched his arm, then leaned in and kissed his cheek.
"I will be there for you," she said.
She pointed to the forensics room.
"I need to get back to work," she said.
T'Challa tried to move closer to kiss her back, but Nakia side-stepped him. She was always professional, no matter the setting. He misread the kiss as an opening for them. Working together again broke down the chasm between them, and he hoped they could rekindle something. But her abrupt departure was a warning to stay cool toward her.
Glancing at his kimoyo, he needed a break.
He returned to the palace and ate a private lunch inside his quarters. Shuri notified him that the probes were ready to be transported. A lukewarm shower refreshed his body, but his mind wandered. There was a traitor in the palace. Someone so full of hate for the Udaku family that they would destroy buildings, ancient infrastructures, and other Wakandans. They involved outsiders in the dragging down of the nation. It all had to stem from N'Jadaka's presence. He went over Bhira's and M'Kathu's discussion of Erik's arrogance and plans to hold the world accountable for centuries of abuse. His cousin may have stomped into Wakanda with the wrath of five hundred years on his back, however, getting to know the man showed T'Challa that Erik had a rational and strategic mind, and the king was already weary of the Americans and European Union pressuring him to open up Wakanda for the world to be exploited and controlled by them. He mulled over the idea of Erik marching into the U.N. and turning it upside down. The thought made T'Challa laugh out loud.
His gaze drifted over to his view of the emerald forest that surrounded the river that ran past the palace. T'Challa's grandparents would fly across the river soon with the body of his uncle N'Jobu and hopefully bring closure to a painful chapter in their family history. He poured himself a stiff drink with ice and sipped it slowly. Wearing the crown of the king was a weary and lonely experience. For years he thought he would lead Wakanda when he reached his fifties. His father had been in excellent health and showed no signs of slowing down before he was killed. How different his life would've been had he stayed the Black Panther by his father's side. Closing his eyes, he couldn't find the energy to contemplate rooting out the traitor in the palace. He rubbed his glass of liquor across his forehead. Rest is what he needed. A night of good sleep and he could face his responsibilities the next day.
###
Erik signed the last invitation and sent them off with Mpilo to be delivered by palace mail carriers. Tlotliso poured him a last cup of tea with the fancy antique teapot she brought to the office on her first day and then signed out for the rest of the evening. He sat alone in his office for two full hours, skipping dinner. He slid a finger across a tablet on his desk and his war table came to life, projecting an image of a world map. Tapping another screen app, small black stars popped up all across the map where War Dogs would receive weapons and instructions once he took power. Erik opened another screen onto the image and a list of names he curated from across the globe glowed with neon blue urgency. There were only thirty names and he knew he needed more, but his mind was exhausted. He tapped his kimoyo. Disa's image floated into view.
"Hey," she said.
"I'll be over there in a bit to read to Joba. Got a little busy here and finally finished."
"I was about to hit you up myself. She wasn't feeling so good after dinner. Slight fever. I gave her some medicine, and she's fast asleep now. I'm hoping she'll be better before Grandpop arrives tomorrow."
Erik's lips sagged. He hated for Joba to miss bedtimes with him. Cultivating a nightly ritual with her and his other children was his favorite part of ending the day.
"I have a favor to ask," he said.
"Let's hear it."
She held a glass of wine in her hand and he was so tempted to leave his office and go to her just to share a moment of quiet sipping and picking her brain in person.
"I'm going to send you a list of names on my private link. Could you look them over and suggest more people to add? I'm putting together a consortium of scholars, lawyers, grassroots leaders, labor organizers, and STEAM tech leaders. All Black. My original list was for three years ago, but things have changed around the world and I need your eyes from the academic world to help me know if I should remove some people."
He tapped his kimoyo and heard the ping on hers when his encrypted file reached her.
"I have an abstract attached along with a ten-page proposal of what I plan to do with the group. Can you get back to me on it within the week?" he said.
"Sure," she said.
"Tell Joba that daddy checked in on her and that I'll see her tomorrow," he said.
"Will do."
"Thanks."
He ended the call and stared at the global map. Erik wanted the best minds to break down concrete steps needed to push his agenda forward in stages. Basic needs would be tackled first. Housing, food, and health. Next would be education, employment with across-the-board living wages, and environmental/infrastructure changes. He'd have an army of lawyers all around the globe tackling reparations all at the same time in all the various places that used African slavery to grow their wealth and power. Then he'd move on to disrupt the global monetary system of cannibalistic capitalism. By then, he'd already be prepared for war and assassination attempts on him. Nothing would happen overnight and he was ready for the long game and global pushback.
Closing up his office, he walked with Noxolo to his suite. He bid her goodnight and propped himself on his favorite reclining chair in his bedroom. Tapping his kimoyo again, he waited for Sydette to answer while he flipped through the digitally translated book of Wakandan fairytales they were finishing up.
"Baba!" Sydette said.
Riki leaned against her on her bed, and both children wore matching yellow pajamas with giraffes all over them. Erik tapped the book that floated next to the image of Riki and Sydette so that it appeared in front of them on Sydette's kimoyo beads.
"We're almost done with this one," Erik said, finding the exact section where he left off the night before.
Two sets of eager eyes waited for him to start.
"How was your day today? Did you pick all the wild kiwanos you wanted from that tree you showed me?" Erik asked.
"Yeah, we took some," Riki said.
"Did you like it?"
Sydette shook her head and crinkled her nose.
"It tasted funny," she said.
"It's a different fruit than what you're used to, so of course, it will taste strange at first."
"I liked it," Riki said.
"You like anything," Sydette teased. "Mama said she's going to try and make a jam out of it."
"Did Mama like how it tasted?" Erik asked.
"Kinda. Auntie Twyla likes it," Sydette said.
"Twyla is there with you?"
"Yeah, Mama and her are going out," Sydette said.
"Going out where?"
The question slipped out without Erik even thinking. Sydette would probably tell Yani that he was asking about her business. He couldn't help it. They were miles away, and Yani rarely left the palace outside of work or without the children when she stayed in Birnin Zana. There was a nanny there and three Doras, so he didn't worry about protection at that moment, especially with the elaborate security system that was recently installed.
"I dunno, just out. They were playing with wigs and laughing," Sydette said.
Erik read them the story, a nice long one that knocked Riki out in thirty minutes. Sydette hung on for another fifteen minutes, but her eyelids grew heavy. Kora the nanny tucked Sydette in her bed and carried Riki to his room as Erik turned off his kimoyo.
Being away from the palace did free Yani from the constant watch of royal eyes. Erik crawled onto his bed and tried to imagine what kind of wig she'd wear. The Lake Kivu area was like being out in the country. There were mainly coffee shops, cafes, and small restaurants on open rural land, so maybe they went out to eat disguised as locals.
He used to enjoy Yani wearing wigs to spice up her adult play time with him back on her island home. The first time he saw her in a wig, he had returned from a treacherous trip with Klaue, and soon after she'd surprised him with new hair and a new persona. Her favorite was a long blue mane that she loved to let hang over one shoulder. Wearing that unit, she'd pretend to be a married woman having an illicit affair with him. She'd put on one of her short tight dresses that barely covered her big ass, and slipped her feet into mile-high stilettos for him. Her make-up would be stunning, and her lips always had the cherry gloss for that hair.
After shooting guns for target practice on the compound they stayed in, Erik would seek her out. When she wanted to act frisky, he'd find her with that wig in the kitchen near the island counter pretending to chop up some vegetables for an imaginary husband who was due back for dinner. Acting like he was the friend of the imaginary husband, Erik would seduce her by confessing his secret love for her behind his friend's back. Yani would get so hot in the panties listening to him beg for pussy before the husband showed up. Their favorite twist on that scenario was the one where the husband was supposed to be in the living room while Erik went to retrieve something from the kitchen. He'd stand next to her and talk nasty while Yani denied him access to an illicit affair. That's when Erik would slip his hand under her dress and pat her pussy lips through her panties. She'd cut up real veggies to be used later for a meal, and he'd pat and slap her vulva until the dainty panties were soaked, sticky, and lodged in her folds from his fingering.
"Stop! Mi husband will hear us!" she'd whine in that thick island patois.
That's when he would start slapping that fat vulva harder, getting his fingers drenched. Yani arched her back hard so she could feel all of his hand and start whimpering. By then, his pants would be unfastened and on the floor around his ankles.
"Look what you did," he'd complain, letting her see his thick, hard dick bobbing for attention.
Erik didn't waste time then, lifting her up and planting her on the counter, and sliding her panties to the side. Her large folds unfurled into what he liked to call her manta ray wings, all wet and ready for his punishing strokes. He'd tease his dick around her opening and clamp his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet and submissive. Her big eyes would go wide when he'd push in a little, then narrow quickly when he pulled out quickly as he looked over her shoulder to see if the husband was going to walk in, only heightening Yani's pleasure. She had an exhibition kink embedded in her and every time Erik would stop to play like he was listening for her man, her glossy pink opening throbbed and spilled her natural lubricant. He'd stare down at her pussy and say things like, "I think he heard us," or "Keep quiet, he'll hear my dick making a mess in your pussy," and Yani's thighs would jump.
"Lemme smack this big dick head on that clit… yeah, just like that, getting that head nice and wet for you."
Her lush mouth opened and closed with tiny grunts and she threw back her head, letting all that blue hair fan out on the counter.
"I'm 'bout to fuck this pussy good and you better keep your mouth shut so that nigga won't come in here."
Lifting her legs up so that they widened her heavy thighs, he parted her folds and stretched her out. She swallowed grunts when he glared at her with his lips poked out all aggressively for disobeying his words. The only noise heard afterward was his dick working in and out of her gushy pussy.
"Hold those fucking legs up!"
Yani did what she was told after he slapped her clit, pointing her heels to the ceiling as he pulled down her dress top and freed her fat titties. He fondled and squeezed her nipples before bending down to suck on them. She caressed the back of his neck.
"I know he hears this pussy getting fucked," he grunted in Yani's ear.
Her mouth went lax, and her eyes rolled back as he sank deeper into her snug depths.
"Don't say anything else! He can hear us!" she groaned.
He snapped his lips shut and gave her succulent dick, their bodies drenched in sweat and forbidden desire. A part of him loved the trying-to-be-quiet sex because they were terrible at it. His dick made Yani's pussy noisy and they both couldn't hold back moans, loud exhales, or curse words.
"Ooh fuck my pussy, baby!" Yani shouted.
"Your man heard you… he's walking over here… oh damn, he sees you getting this dick…" Erik teased.
That always broke her, knowing she was caught with another man's dick stretching her out well. Her orgasm was robust and squeezed the shit out of his length, clenching all over it. Erik did all he could to keep himself from cumming while watching that amazing face of Yani's contort with pleasure. The combination of her wanting to run from the dick but being hooked on it too got him every time with her, and he held onto his release just so he could savor all of hers to the last squeeze on the root of his shaft. It was that precise moment where he would reverse his role in the game and turn into the jealous husband discovering his woman pounded in his own house. He would pull out his dick, and Yani would jump down from the counter acting flustered and ashamed, preparing herself for what was to come next.
The real hardcore pipe down.
Erik curled his lips into a cruel sneer and Yani pleaded forgiveness. Grabbing her throat the way she liked, he spun her around so that she faced the counter and spanked her ass.
"Disrespectful bitch!" he shouted.
His open palm slaps jiggled her cheeks, and that made his dick harder.
"I work all damn day, put food on the table for you, and you turn around and fuck my co-worker? My so-called friend?" he shouted.
"I'm sorry!"
He slapped her ass cheeks until they were warm and bright red on her pretty brown skin. Gripping the back of her neck gently, he pushed her upper body down on the counter and shoved his dick back inside her pussy.
"You 'gon learn today!" he shouted.
Yani tossed that ass back on him as he made those cheeks clap an ovation. He held her waist tight and slammed into her, demanding an apology. She wailed it out by saying sorry so many times that it became a nonsensical gibberish word the more she said it. Shit became real to Erik then, and his mind imagined how he'd really feel if he walked into the compound and found her fucking some dude. The thought of some other man getting to enjoy her body enraged him. That was his pussy. That was his fat dimpled ass and thick thighs. Those were his full breasts. That was his woman. He loved her. Adored her. Wanted to protect and spoil her. No other man had the right to touch her or be lucky enough to even smell her skin. Kiss her lips. Feel that swollen pussy all around their erection.
"I'm cumming!" he yelled, smashing his thighs against hers.
Spilling into her brought out a roar from his throat. She gasped and rested her head on the counter.
He wasn't done.
Lifting her up and throwing her over her shoulder, he took her to their bedroom and made Yani climb on top of him. He held onto that epic ass and forced her to fuck him into delirium. He needed to see her titties bouncing in his face and her eyes on him so he could nut into her again. Not only did Erik desire that raw nastiness with Yani, but he needed her reassuring loving to bring him out of the edgy mindset she could so easily throw him into with just a batting of her eyelashes.
"Fuck Daddy good," he pleaded, and she did just that. Rocked his fucking world until she put his ass to sleep.
Erik fisted himself on his bed in Wakanda, wondering still what wig Yani put on. If she had on the green bob, then she might act like the sassy masseuse hired to rub him down with oil before his wife came home. The green hair also brought out the anal plugs and vibrators. The pink hair meant the stuck-up rich girl who wanted her pussy ate all night while she laid back doing nothing but cumming in his mouth and shining up his lips. The platinum blonde hair was the dick-sucking slut who took it up the ass outside on the lawn.
Stroking himself, Erik remembered what it was like to fuck Yani in the ass. Thinking back on their lovemaking from soft to rough, it embarrassed him to know how much cum he put inside of her and on top of her. Yani's body and face were a beautiful tapestry, and he painted enough semen on her to truthfully never be able to cum again. She was electric. From the moment he first saw her in the hidden cove, Erik had to have her.
He didn't care if it would take him the entire stay in St. Thomas to get her. The need to possess her took root in his spirit. She was that wild combination of the erotic, forbidden fruit… tempting and tasted into damnation, and also the profanely sacred — to be guarded and untouched. Yani thoroughly worked her juju on him and had his Nana lived to see her, she would've warned Erik that the girl put a love root on him. Spellbound and captivated from day one, there was no way he was going to let her get away without sampling her charms. He beat down and killed men for her. To think that she was in his world again after so much turmoil and trauma had to be God's hand at work, trying to force him back to face his fears. Could he be deserving of her love ever again?
Erik grit his teeth, panted into the pillow cradling his head, and released all over his hand and blanket with a vision of Yani swimming naked back in the cove. His balls ached with the need to cum again, but with Yani under him, wrapping her chunky thighs around his waist. Another hot load surged, and he ejaculated a small puddle that soaked his covers as he kept calling out Yani's name. He beat his dick until all the energy drained from him in a big wet mess all over his bedding and stomach.
All she wanted was for him to choose her, and he could have heaven again. For life. He rolled over on his back and glared at his high ceiling. Erik knew he had to earn her respect again. He had to show her the fullness of his being. She gave all of herself to him and he hid so much to protect her from harm. But now he had power and the ultimate protection to back him up, hiding nothing anymore. Yani wanted to bring healthy babies into the world and take care of Black women in peace. She gave him a beautiful, healthy boy herself.
Erik's mind wandered, and he wondered about Riki's conception. Yani's breasts had gotten bigger the last month they were together. It was possible for her to have been pregnant weeks before he left the island. Their last night of making love, he played with her tits a lot and they looked like they were ready to produce milk again. He smiled. To think that he made sweet love to her for one last time and his son was already snug in her womb. He had hugged both Yani and Riki that night.
That last time inside of her had been so delicate and emotionally charged. He held her hands while they were in missionary, snapped his hips forward, and shouted out her name with his dick steadily throbbing and pushing cum. Much later, Sydette had cried, and Yani had flitted away in one of his t-shirts to check on her with a giant playful smile, and then…
It was over.
Erik squeezed his lids shut and shook his head, willing away the horrific memory. Terrible men had put guns on Sweet Pea, Yani… and his son. He could've lost everything. Everything.
All the Gods of the world worked to get him back. He would not squander this second chance with his life.
###
Yani ran her fingers through the freshly washed, dried, and styled blue wig that became her favorite in a collection of many. The trendy green and yellow coat she bought in the city went well with the hair color and the big, wide green shades hid most of her face. No one recognized her. She had one of the most well-known faces in Wakanda, and Jesus knew she couldn't go out as herself to some club Remy recommended. He had her name and Twyla's on a guest list, and they arrived by public transport after a quick ride on a quad stinger with her personal driver. She told her driver that they were going to dinner and a play, and when he dropped them off to be picked up later, they scurried off to catch the public transport and blend into the excited crowds grateful to have another normal night on the town. Wakandans were relaxed and felt relatively secure. That lifted her mood.
They arrived at a place that Yani had to do a double take on. She thought they would go to a regular club, but the building she stared at was exclusive. The line was long to get in and she heard the thumping of a loud bass vibrating the walls outside. By the time they reached the front and gave fake names and palace-approved phony identification with their kimoyo beads, the bouncers were turning people away.
Yani contacted Remy with her beads. His voice sounded deep and melodious in her earbud.
"They're not letting anyone else in. New bouncers have taken over the door and turned people away," she said.
"I'll be down in a minute," he said.
Yani glanced around and Twyla did, too. The vibe was crazy to be around after being away from club scenes for so long. Wakandans took the club fashions to a higher level of swag than she had ever seen. From hairstyles to clothes, to make-up, tribal markings, and other art designs painted on their faces in diverse colors, clubbers showed out.
A wide bouncer looked up toward the stairs that led to the club and grinned. He spoke rapid-fire Wakandan and a familiar laugh danced in her ears. Remy swept down in a form-fitting plum and rose-gold suit with expensive plum-colored dress shoes. He had even painted space around his right eye with decorative purple squiggles. Remy spoke to the bouncer quickly, and they were allowed to bypass the line and the growing crowd eager to get inside. He looked at her wig and oversized glasses.
"Superstar looks. If only everyone knew who you were, they would go crazy. I have a surprise for you," he said.
"Oh, yeah?" she asked, surprised.
Twyla looked at Yani, and she could read her cousin's questioning expression because Twyla didn't have on shades, just a big curly wig that fit her face perfectly.
"Come, let's get you away from the street," Remy said.
He escorted them up the stairs, and they entered a classy-looking club. There was a live band set-up, but the DJ was running the show when they stepped into the boisterous crowd. Elaborate club lights showered the giant dancefloor with pink and orange lights and the black and gold furniture looked showroom fresh with high end plushness.
"Remy. My man!"
A young man reached out and gave Remy a handshake and they bumped shoulders.
"Aye Khanyi, good to see you, friend!" Remy said.
"How is your mother… ?"
Yani tried to keep up with the conversation but ended up using her translator buds to understand what she could. The men chatted quickly, and a phrase caught her ear and she stepped closer to Remy.
"Did that man call your parents negazi nengqondo?" Yani asked.
Remy grinned and tried to glance around to ignore the question. Twyla crowded next to him to hear a response. He waved his friend off and led them to a private booth above the crowd. There was serious security there and Yani became nervous that she would be asked to remove her glasses and outed as a member of the Udaku family.
"Sit, get comfortable. Sekou, bring us a bottle and some glasses from my private stash," Remy said.
One of the personal guards, who clearly belonged to Remy's large section, trotted off to get what he wanted.
"What kind of club is this? And don't lie," Yani said, cocking her head to the side and smirking at him.
"This is a private club for nobility. My parents are liaisons to the royal court," Remy said.
"What does that make you?" Twyla asked with a quirky twist to her lips.
Remy squinted his deliciously slanted eyes.
"Just under a prince," he said.
"So like a duke?" Twyla said.
"Yes."
"Why were you working as a nanny, then?" Yani asked.
The guard returned with a male server holding Remy's private bottle of liquor. Glass tumblers were passed out, and the libations filled to the rim. Twyla wasted no time guzzling her drink. Yani held hers and stared at Remy. He swirled his amber liquor around in the tumbler and she noticed the silver spiky finger rings and dark shiny goth nail polish that was the rage with men throughout Wakanda. Yani found it highly seductive. Remy tapped one of his many rings on his glass.
"Military service is mandatory, and after soldiers have served that duty, we are required to work in service jobs to ease us back into society for several months. I wanted to finish up my childcare service inside the palace instead of in a hospital. I asked to be transferred there, and because of my family connections, it gave me the opportunity to work for you and Lady Abdullah. My time is up and I am free to resume family duties as a member of the Merchant Tribe's upper class," he said.
"How come you didn't tell us?" Yani asked.
"You may have behaved differently if I told you I am from the nobility. You would stop acting… normal," he said.
His direct gaze made Yani nervous. She looked away and watched the sophisticated crowd below.
"Everyone here is connected to nobility or related to high officials," he said. "We come here because the club protects our privacy. You have to know a noble to get in. Of course, without your disguise, you could sweep in here and wow everyone."
Yani grinned. He stood.
"Here, take those off," Remy said to Yani and Twyla.
They pulled off their coats and Remy handed them to another server who whisked them to a coat check room on the same floor. Yani finally took a sip of her drink. It was strong and bitter, like gin with a hint of unsweetened pineapple. Remy frantically waved to the DJ, and the man waved back. Yani and Twyla stood up to peer over the floor.
"This is a really beautiful place," Yani said.
A new bass line rocked the room, and both Yani's and Twyla's mouths fell open. Remy laughed and tilted his head to stare at her.
"That's my song!" Yani squeaked.
Remy threw up his left hand and flicked three fingers in the air.
"I paid my DJ friend to play it, so you could hear it and watch Wakandans dig your sound," he said.
"This song is so old!" Yani cheesed.
She was a nineteen girl in love with Chez, Sydette's father. It was his first and only real hit single, and folks back home on the island said it was only because of Yani's voice singing the catchy hook. The rap lyrics were simplistic ghetto bravado, but Yani's chorus elevated the song. She slapped her hands on her round cheeks and couldn't stop smiling at how young she sounded. All that false confidence was bolstered by the promise of young love.
"How did you find this?" she asked.
Remy laughed with all of his teeth showing and tapped his kimoyo. An old vinyl cover that was supposed to be a black and white cartoon drawing of Yani being ate out by a man from behind while he was on his knees jerking off, forced embarrassed hands over her eyes as Twyla cackled next to her. Yani made him turn off the image before others in the club saw it floating so vividly in the air.
"Let us all go dance!" Remy suggested.
He grabbed both their hands and pulled them down toward the dance floor where they rocked out to a teenager's voice singing about love that she knew nothing about. Not until a scarred-up man with gold slugs walked into her life.
Yani danced around happy strangers and wiped away the tears that leaked down her cheeks. Twyla caught her trying to hide her watery eyes and hugged her. Her cousin knew how far Yani had come from that naïve girlish voice singing about romancing a bad boy who couldn't handle her beat and bounce.
"You are so amazing, Lady Galiber!" Remy announced in her ear.
They all shook their arms and hips, joining Remy's half-dozen well-dressed male friends in the middle of the floor. It kept Yani's mind on pleasant things before the arrival of Killmonger's parents. Lifting her arms high in the air, she stole a bit of nostalgic joy for herself and blessed the young girl she used to be with that tumultuous past.