Hollington Homecoming, Volume Two. Pamela Yaye

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      Hiding a smile, she glanced up at him. His eyes were all over her. Terrence thought the world belonged to him and arrogantly believed they could pick up where they left off. Overconfident and full of pride, he was the type of man who never gave up. The type who’d stop at nothing to win. They’d never be more than friends, but there was no harm in letting him buy her a drink, was there?

      “What are you over there smiling about?” Shaunice asked, glancing over Kyra’s shoulder. “Hey, I thought we agreed not to answer our cell phones during dinner. It was your rule, remember?”

      Feeling guilty, she switched her phone to vibrate and made a show of dropping it into her purse. “Happy now?”

      “Very,” Shaunice said, wearing a cheeky smile, “and don’t let it happen again!”

      Two waiters arrived, carrying trays of appetizers and cocktails.

      “Courtesy of the Verbal Ninjas,” the server explained, placing a drink in front of each woman. “Enjoy the lemon piña coladas, ladies.”

      Kyra softened. So, he did remember. Pushing an errant piece of hair off her forehead, she sent Terrence a smile of thanks. He didn’t respond. Instead, he studied her with all seriousness, as if he were putting together a hundred-piece puzzle. And maybe he was, because when it came to their relationship nothing made sense.

      The bar filled up and soon every seat was taken. Kyra was on her third cocktail when the disc jockey from WTSU 95 took the microphone and greeted the crowd. Glancing around the room for Aimee, Kyra opened her cell phone and punched in her girlfriend’s number. When the call went to voice mail, she left a message.

      “Let’s get this party started!” the emcee bellowed, pumping his fists. “The first team to fifty points wins!”

      Allowing herself another quick glance at Terrence, she pushed away her dainty cocktail glass and sat up ruler-straight.

      He mouthed, “Good luck,” took a swallow of his beer and faced the host like a diligent student awaiting instructions from his teacher. An act if she’d ever seen one. To the casual observer, Terrence was just another participant, enjoying a night of trivia, but Kyra knew this was much more than just a game. And when he answered the first three questions correctly, Kyra knew she’d been had.

      * * *

      “How many albums has Michael Jackson sold worldwide?”

      Shaunice smacked the buzzer. “750 million.”

      “Five points for the Foxy Cleopatras!” The emcee paused expectantly. “How many countries border the African country of Libya?”

      A man with a nasally voice answered. “Four!”

      “Wrong. The correct answer is six. Who did the Atlanta Braves beat to win the 1995 World Series?”

      “The Cleveland Indians!” Terrence shouted, up out of his seat.

      Kyra snorted. Of course, a sports question. Hell, everyone in the state of Georgia could get that one right.

      “We’re down to the last question, and the Verbal Ninjas and Foxy Cleopatras are leading all teams with forty-five points each. Whoever answers the next question right will win a thousand big ones, y’all!”

      Kyra tasted her water. If she botched the next question, she’d be cooking Terrence dinner at his house tomorrow night. What was she thinking, agreeing to such outlandish terms? He’d goaded her into the bet and she’d fallen for his trick—hook, line and sinker. It was the oldest con in the book, but she’d been too busy lusting to see what he was doing. How long could they spend together before crossing the line? Kyra would never dream of sleeping with Terrence, but she couldn’t keep pretending that she wasn’t attracted to him. Not when her heart thundered every time he walked into a room.

      Leaning forward, hand poised to strike, she calmed her nerves. Losing to Terrence wasn’t an option, so she smacked the buzzer before the host even finished reading the question. “Nineteen fifty-five!” she shouted, high above the din. “Martin Luther King received his doctorate in nineteen fifty-five.”

      “Correct! The winners, for the third consecutive week, are the Foxy Cleopatras!”

      Shaunice cheered, whooping and hollering like the missing member of the Village People. Kyra followed her friend to the front of the restaurant and burst out laughing when Shaunice snatched the prize money out of the emcee’s hands.

      They were back at their table, sharing a complimentary slice of chocolate raspberry cheesecake when Terrence sidled up to their table with two dark, equally attractive men.

      “That was some game,” Terrence said, after introductions were made, “but just for the record, I knew the answer to the last question.”

      “Too bad your hand isn’t as fast as mine!”

      The group laughed.

      “Terrence, what’s it like being back in the A after all these years?” Shaunice asked, setting down her cocktail glass. “Did you miss it?”

      “Definitely. I grew up in Pittsburgh, but Hollington will always be home. I played ball, received my degree and fell in love for the first time, too.”

      Kyra coughed.

      “We saw your first NFL game,” Shaunice told him.

      “Really? I’m flattered.”

      “When you ran out onto the field, Kyra screamed so loud I spilled soda all over my jeans.” Shaunice tugged on her earlobe. “I still can’t hear properly out of this ear!”

      Eyes wide, mouth ajar, he turned to Kyra. “You saw my debut game?”

      “Oh, yeah, she’s a sports nut,” Shaunice explained. “She likes the Falcons, but the Cowboys are her favorite team.”

      A grin on his lips, Terrence turned towards his cousins. “I think Shaunice deserves a celebratory glass of wine, don’t you think so, fellas?”

      “For sure,” Damon agreed. “Winning is tough work.”

      Under the table, Kyra clutched Shaunice’s hand. Speaking through СКАЧАТЬ