Highness (14 page)

So many vivid pictures of the last four days popped into her head, until she absolutely brimmed with joy. 

She loved the way that they teased each other, how he could take a joke, how he made fun of himself and never took life too seriously.  She loved that he admitted that he didn’t have everything figured out yet and might never get some things.  But most importantly, she loved just being around him.

The idea nearly scared her. 
Oh my God.  Was this love
? 

Was this what all those scores of beautiful music they listened to were actually about?

In truth, she’d never known this kind of love – the kind not given by family and friends.  This was an intimate, bonding, electrifying thing made life itself change colors – from dim to bright.

Walking into her bedroom full of light and arguably…dust from being closed up for six weeks, she caught herself dipping her head and smiling when she saw Michael’s T-shirt laid across the large bed – mixed in with silk sheets and her goose down comforter.  He had picked out his most favorite coffee mug from her extensive collection and set to using it every morning and also leaving it every afternoon for her to pick up off the nightstand. 
Eventually, she’d get him trained.

He seemed to love her bedroom almost as much as her.  He seemed to like her life as much too.

What did that mean? Was it possible that he might stay here with her and continue finding himself and finding what made him happy? 

Was that too much?  He was after all a prince with responsibilities of his own – though he never mentioned them. 

She sat down on the bed and looked around her room. Funny how she had taken its beauty for granted before, but never again. 

It was a spacious, beautiful old room with high ceilings accented by dark wooden beams, matching dark hardwood floors, expensive heavy drapes, plush rugs, and a colorful comforter atop an antique king-sized oak bed that was lined at every bedpost with books nearly as tall as the ceiling.  Some of them had been her books, some of them her grandparent’s, some of them her mother’s.

Besides her studio, this was her safe place.  It housed her large Mac computer on a large credenza covered in books and flowers in the corner.  It housed her small Bose system that played her jazz on the mantle right below a perfect little fireplace for cold winter nights, especially lonely ones.

Only in the last few days, she wasn’t quite sure that she’d be lonely again.  As she waited for her water to finish running in the bathroom down the hall, she lay in the middle of the bed looking out of the open windows at the perfect blue sky.  Birds chirped outside as they perched on the limbs of the elm trees below.  A fresh breeze blew in shaking the drapes and airing out the room.

Suddenly, her computer began to hum a tune, indicating a call on FaceTime.

Jumping up, Hope ran over and sat in the chair in front of her desk and hit accept.  Bree was on the opposite camera with a perplexed look of anger on her face.  “Just where in the hell have you been?” she asked, eyebrows spiked. “I’ve been trying to call you for four straight days.  Not one answer. I’ve called the hospitals, the house phone, and your cell phone!”

Hope shook her head and gasped. “Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry, Bree. Don’t be mad at me. I totally forgot.”  Her heart lurched.  Bree had been such a good friend.  The least that she deserved was a call, but so much had happened, Hope had not been able to think straight. 

“Girl, what could possibly make you forget your entire life for four damn days?” she asked, looking harder into the monitor.   “Wait, are you looking at me?” She blinked hard at the monitor, pulling up toward her face.

Hope was about to explain her answer to the first question but stopped abruptly. “Yes, I’m looking at you,” Hope smiled.
Another thing she had forgotten to share.

“Okay, you’re going to freak and tell me how selfish I’ve been for not calling you, especially after you came all the way here for me, but…”

“You got your sight back?” Bree asked, tears forming in the sides of her eyes.

Hope exhaled. “I got it back.”  She almost felt the need to cry also. Waving her hands over her eyes to fight the tears, she nodded. “I’ve just been really preoccupied with things.  You have no idea how crazy my life has been.”

“Painting?  Cleaning?  What?” Bree asked.

“No…” How did she explain all of this to her best friend?

As she was about to explain that the next door neighbor had recently become her temporary housemate, she saw Bree’s hand go over her mouth. “My word!”

“What’s wrong?” Hope asked, confused. 

Bree pointed as Hope turned to see that Michael had walked into the bedroom fully naked.  His muscled rippled down his chest and formed a sexy cut V-shape to his erection that he had tied a purple bow on.  A boyish grin covered his face.  “What are you doing on the computer? I told you that I wanted you naked,” Michael said playfully. “I have a gift for you too.”

Hope immediately turned and tried to cover the computer with her arms.  As she did so, her bottomless vagina appeared on the screen in front of Bree.  “Baby, I’m on the…”

Michael stopped in his tracks. “What?”

“She’s on the computer!” Bree yelled. “Hope, I can see your entire cookie.  It’s like right in my face.  I mean…right there.”

Pulling the sheet off the bed, Michael covered his erect penis and turned scarlet red.  “Is that your friend from before?”

“Why does he have an accent now?” Bree asked.

“Why is she on the computer?” Michael asked. 

“Why is he talking like that?” Bree asked again.

“Both of you stop talking!” Hope exclaimed. “I can’t think.”  Sitting back down, she put her elbow on the table and sank her head into the palm of her hand. Looking up at the monitor, she nodded at Bree. “Can I call you back?”

“You better,” Bree warned, signing off.

Hope twisted around in her swivel chair and looked at Michael.  She couldn’t help but blush as she stood across the room covering his manhood with the sheet. “Wow,” she said, shaking her head.  “You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?” 

Michael removed the sheet and looked down at his penis. “How do you like that?”

“What?” Hope asked.

He looked up with a clever grin. “It’s still hard, and it’s still wrapped in a perfect little bow.”  Walking over to Hope, he bit his lip. “You know, your friend is right.”

“About what?” Hope asked, tilting her head.

“Your cookie is showing,” he said, standing in front of her.  He used his foot to spread her legs further apart.  “And a perfect little cookie, it is.”  His mouth began to water again at just the thought of taking her.

“We should bathe first.”  Extending her hand, she allowed him to help her up out of the chair. 

Pulling her close, he nudged himself into her stomach. “I know. I already turned off the water in the bathroom.”  He kissed her lips and moved her hair out of her face.  “I want to take you out tonight.  I don’t know where. You pick. Some place low key, of course, but I’d like to get you out of the house.”

Hope liked the sound of that.  She kissed him again. “Awesome.  We can go dancing.”

“Anything you want.”

“Then dinner and a movie too,” she added.

“Anything. You. Want.”

“Great. It will be our first date,” she said, as they walked out of the bedroom toward the bathroom.

Michael corrected her quickly.  “It will be our second date. Our first date was at the park.”

Hope blushed.  While she had not said anything at the time, she had thought the same exact thing. 

Chapter 13

A real date
. 

Hope was going on a real date.  She was so excited until she could barely go through her closet to figure out what to wear. Michael had left a few hours earlier to give her some time to get ready, and she was left to her very vivid imagination.  She could be whatever she wanted tonight. Whimsical and fair or dark and sexy.  Every woman had at least two sides to her coin.  The question was which side would end up on top tonight?  There were so many choices.  Looking at her clock, however, she decided, there wasn’t nearly enough time.   

He promised to be back by six, ready to enjoy a night on the town with her.  And the only thought that kept going through her mind was that she had to look pretty for him. 

With the sun peering through her windows and Michael Buble blasting on the stereo, she finally ran up on a little black dress that would do her justice. It was a fitted dress that stopped right above the knee with a V-neck cut to show off her well-plated cleavage thanks to a Victoria Secret push-up bra.  

Grabbing a pair of black stilettos that Bree had made her buy the summer before, she paired them with thigh highs and black lingerie that he would surely see later and pulled of her robe to begin her ascent from the girl next door to the woman of his dreams.

Another thought hit her.  With the women that he had dated before her, she was certain that they had been dawned in the best clothes by the best designers, but what they didn’t have on her was new sight.  Being blind for nearly two months had given her a new appreciation for her own curves, and she loved them more than ever.

After two hours of detailed prepping, she looked at herself in the mirror and felt pleased.  She had pulled her hair up in a wispy ponytail with tendrils that fell to her shoulders, put on make-up, painted her nails, plucked her brows, waxed her bikini area and most importantly checked her Nuevo Ring. 

There was no way that this wouldn’t knock his socks off tonight.  He was used to seeing her in panties and T-shirts, yoga pants and jeans.  But tonight, he’d see the other side of her – the side that rarely got an opportunity to come out.

Spraying on a little of her most expensive cologne behind her ears, elbows and between her thighs, she giggled when she heard the doorbell ring.

Grabbing her small purse, she headed downstairs as quickly as her feet would take her.

When Hope opened the door, Michael had to pause.  Swallowing heavily and clutching a large bouquet of red roses, he nearly dropped them when she emerged.  He was expecting a sundress – maybe even jeans and a blouse.  But he wasn’t expecting for her to look so amazing. 

“I’m speechless,” he said, pulling off his Ray Ban Aviator shades.  His eyes glinted with approval.  “You look absolutely beautiful.”

Hope grinned. “Thank you,” she said, taking the flowers and sniffing them.  “I love roses.”

“I noticed,” he said, trying not to gawk at her.  Looking down at his own clothes, he felt very underdressed. 
It was the first time in his life.
  In a pair of dark jeans, a nice tailored blue linen top and black loafers, he almost wanted to cancel to go back and re-dress. But to keep her waiting any longer would surely be a sin.

Seeing him twist his lips up as he looked down at his clothes, she quickly complimented him. “You look great,” she said, grabbing his hand to pull him inside.  He was standing out there like he hadn’t spent nearly a week holed up in this place alone with her. 

“Are we ready to go?” he asked.

“Yes, I just want to run and put these in water.” Darting toward the kitchen in front of him, she heard him following behind in a leisurely stroll. What she didn’t know was that he was truly enjoying the view.  “You do really look amazing. I sort of want to skip dinner and go straight for dessert.” That wasn’t a lie or even an exaggeration.  Seeing her like this was driving him insane.

Pulling an empty vase from below the sink, she set it on the counter and turned on the faucet. “You can have dessert later.”  As she turned to look at him, the sun setting on the horizon caught in her brown hair and highlighted all of the auburn streaks in it.  Funny, he had never noticed them until now. 

“I will,” he joked as an afterthought. “And seconds to boot.”

When she had cut the flowers and arranged them in the vase, she stood back and marveled at them.  “Thank you, Michael.  You’re so sweet.”  Her brown eyes flashed with joy – again another sincere display of appreciation that he still hadn’t gotten used to yet.

“You deserve an entire garden of roses,” he said, pulling her close.  She smelled even better than she looked.  “Are you ready to start our night?  Being here with you alone isn’t helping my intentions.” He looked down into her face and felt himself begin to stir again.

“I’m very ready.”

“Good. Have you ever been to town in a big pickup truck?  Because I’ve never been on a date in one. This will be a first.”

Hope raised her brow. “That’s right.  You’re all royal and stuff.  Yes, I have been to
town
in a pickup.  I used to drive my grandfather’s truck all the time.  It was a real classic beauty.  Bucket seats and all.”

“Really, what happened to it?”  Michael loved hearing about her life, but she rarely went into detail.

Hope frowned and caught herself.  Bad memory – no place in the moment. “It was totaled.  But let’s not talk about that.  Right now, I just want to be with you.”

***

Michael had never been to Memphis, Tennessee. He had seen the documentaries and truly loved the music, especially from B.B. King and the artists from Stax Records like Otis Redding and Isaac Hayes, but he’d never experienced it for himself. 

However, Hope took him on quite a tour.  After a scary movie at the Paradiso Theatre, where they ate tons of buttered popcorn and chocolate and no one noticed him, because Hope stole everyone’s attention with her beauty, they went downtown and had barbeque near the Mississippi River at Central BBQ. She taught him the difference between dry rub and wet ribs right before feeding him both.  To his delight, he loved the saucy stuff better.

Then, completely full, they walked off some of the food with a tour around the National Civil Rights Museum, where she showed him the exact spot that Dr. King had been assassinated.  He stood there transfixed by the history before him and even though the Museum was closed, he felt incredibly moved.

“He sacrificed everything,” Hope explained, looking up at the white reef above from below in the courtyard of the hotel.  “And look where it got us.”  Holding his hand, she smiled. “White and black children able to walk the streets of Memphis alone at night without being beaten and hung.”

The thought sent a chill up his spine. “He was a remarkable man. I’ve read all his books.”

Hope was impressed.  “Really.  All of them?”

“All of them,” he said proudly.   “My most favorite quote,” he paused with a deep breath, “
I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality... I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.
”  He looked down at Hope and felt a swell in his chest.  “If I’m ever King of England, I won’t allow for ruthless tyranny, hungry poor children, socioeconomic gaps that allow the least to receive adequate education or social services.  I will build a legacy on the shoulders of giants like him.”

Hope put her head on his chest.  “You don’t have to be king to do that, Michael. You can do it now. Your voice is so powerful. All you have to do is speak.”

“If I were smarter,” he said, chiding himself quietly for allowing his brother’s judgment to take form.

Hope looked up and grabbed his face. “In the short time that I’ve known you, I’ve seen a man who knows only strength and goodness.  You are smart; you are more than smart, you are blessed with the ability to connect with people.  And whether they crown you king in your lifetime or not, you will always be the people’s choice as long as you speak for them.”

Michael shook his head.  “You have such faith in me, and you don’t even know me – not all of me. The side that everyone says is most prevalent.”

“And what side is that?” she asked.

“The selfish man.”

She bit her lip and tilted her head toward him innocently.  “Are you selfish?”

“I don’t want to be,” he said aloud.  But I am when it comes to you, he thought to himself.

“What I’ve found is that every day that you’re alive, you can become better than you were the day before.  So you might have been selfish yesterday, but today you can be a new man.”

He kissed her hand gratefully.  “I will remember that.”

They walked along the river at Tom Lee Park and looked out at the cloudless night sky and the golden arched bridge leading from Arkansas to Tennessee, and she told him of her first Memphis in May concert where she wore rain boots and sloshed in the dirt as she listened to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. 

He kissed her on Beale Street while the Memphis Flippers did acrobatic tricks and entertained the large crowd, and marveled at how no one noticed him.  He was just a lucky guy out with a beautiful woman.  And for the first night in his life, he was allowed to just be Michael. 

He sang karaoke at a local bar with her and drank Memphis beer from a local distillery.  

She danced with him on the third floor of 152 where the lights and smoke hid not only his true identity but also the erection she gave him as she grinded against him to some song by Nicki Minaj.  He loved the sweet sweat that rolled down her neck and how she arched her back into him as her hips swayed.  He pulled her close to him and felt her form, aching to be inside of her. 

Eventually, after drinking and dancing, he decided that he wanted a cigar.  So, she walked with him a few blocks over to Havana Mix, a small shop playing jazz and serving up the best cigars that the city had to offer.

Taking a seat off in the corner, they cuddled together and cut their Cohibas, ready to dig in for the rest of the evening. 

“What a night,” Michael exclaimed, rubbing her back and looking at the band. “This is really great.”

“I’m glad you had fun. I know I did,” Hope said, gulping down a cup of water.  All the dancing before had her dehydrated.  “I haven’t had this much fun in years.” 

“Me either,” he said, lighting his cigar.  Taking a big puff, he sat back in his chair and released. “Mmm. This is heaven.”

Hope laughed. “It doesn’t take a lot to make you happy, does it?”

“Funny, I have been thinking the same about you since I met you.”  Michael scooted his chair closer to her.  Putting his elbows on the table, he narrowed his blue eyes on her.  “You’re indescribably strong, like Teflon.  How did you get that way? I know that you said that your mother died early and your grandparents raised you, but there is something bittersweet about your smile and the way that you simply let the bad things in life roll off your back. Like with Sean and the blindness. You never let it get you down.  How did you come by that?”

The music played in the background and the breeze drifted in from the open doors a few feet away.  Closing her eyes, Hope shook her head and smiled.

“By God,” she said, honestly. 

Michael frowned. “Come again?”

Hope had been trying to avoid the conversation, but eventually, they would have to get to it.  Knitting her fingers together, she leaned into him as to not draw those nearby into it.  “My mother was a brilliant artist.  People who knew her said she was bound to do great things.” Her eyelashes flitted as if to push away tears. “I only remember her through pictures now and sometimes through the jazz.” She gave a painful, tight smile. “She loved Coltrane, probably more than me.” 

“What happened to her?” Michael asked, knowing the answer would be something tragic.

“She could never overcome her depression.  The doctors tried. My grandparents tried.  Eventually, she had to be admitted to a mental hospital because of her failed attempts to commit suicide.  The last one was nearly successful, but evidently I had learned how to call 911.  She slit her veins open in the bathtub and I called for the police.  But you know, I don’t remember it.  The doctors say that the shock of it forced my mind to shut it out.” She raised a brow. “I don’t remember a thing, and I hate that because I don’t remember her.” She exhaled a deep breath. “We stayed with my grandparents for a while after that until she got better, but then finally my grandparents admitted her after a sleeping pill incident and I never saw her again.”

“What happened?” Michael whispered.

“She found a way to do it – to umm…” Looking down at the floor, she wiped a tear from her eye.  “She found a way to kill herself about a month into her treatment.”  Smacking her lips, she tried to smile. “My grandparents were wonderful people. They raised me with about as much love as you can give to one child.  But a few years after she was buried, I picked up the same paintbrush that she had put down and started to create beauty on a canvas the way that she did. It scared the hell out of my grandfather.  He didn’t want me to… to be her.  But I wasn’t.  My grandmother encouraged me to paint.  They paid for classes.  It slowly became my thing, my favorite thing.  And even when I do it now, I feel closer to her.”