Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
“If your mom and Cedric won’t be there, all the more reason I should be.”
“Whatever, Dad. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is to me. I want to be there for you.”
“Okay. Look, I . . .um, I have class in a few minutes. I gotta go.”
“Before you go. Janelle . . .Ms. Hopkins wants me to do an interview as part of homecoming weekend.”
“An interview? You never do those.”
“Right, but it’s the centennial, and she thinks an interview with Niomi might—”
“Niomi Spencer?” Celine’s voice pitches an octave higher.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Oh, my god! You have to. She’s amazing. I love her. So she would come for homecoming?”
I resist reminding her that her own father is an acclaimed journalist with a Peabody and a Murrow award to my credit.
“I don’t think they’ve asked her yet. They wanted to make sure I was on board first.”
“You’re doing it, right? Dad, please. Having her here for homecoming would be everything.”
“You sound more excited to have her there than me.” I keep the teasing in my voice so she knows I’m not offended. Or at least not too badly.
“Sorry, Dad. She’s a pioneer for Black women in journalism on TV. I respect her so much. We all do.”
“It’s fine. I get it. She is pretty fantastic. Always has been actually.”
“You know her? Like personally?”
“We were at Finley together.”
“What? You never told me that.”
“She and I didn’t keep in touch. Didn’t talk much at all after I left to spend senior year in Paris.”
“After you met Mom, you mean?” A dozen questions and suggestions hide behind her tone.
“It wasn’t like that. We weren’t like that. Niomi and I were just friends, Celine.”
It’s true, but incomplete. It doesn’t reveal how much more I wanted with the girl of my dreams. How for three years I worked up the courage to ask for what I had secretly craved, only to blow it in one night.
“You have to do it, Dad. Like you have to. Niomi Spencer at homecoming?”
“You do realize some would see me as a draw, too, right?”
“Yeah, but you’re my father. She’s . . .she’s her.”
“Alright. For you, I’ll do it. I’m so proud of you, Celine. Homecoming queen is a big deal. I’m glad I’ll get to be there for it.”
Silence prevails on the other end for a string of seconds where the conversation cools, going from Celine’s excitement over the interview with Niomi, back to the skepticism, indifference–whatever it is she feels about me showing up this time.
“Yeah. That’ll be cool,” she finally agrees. “I really gotta go. Class.”
“Right. Sure. We’ll talk more later. Love you.”
After an almost imperceptible pause, she says, “Love you, too, Dad.”
As soon as we disconnect and before I can talk myself out of it, I send Janelle the text that will give me much-needed time with my daughter and bring Niomi and me back together really for the first time in two decades.
I’m in.
CHAPTER TWO
niomi
A FaceTime chime interrupts my producer’s debriefing of this morning’s show. Janelle’s face and contact on the screen of my phone make me smile.
“Frank, I need to take this. Anything else?”
He closes his mouth on whatever point he was about to make and grins. “You kicking me out of your office?”
“Perceptive. Anything else before you go?”
“No.” He stands from his seat on the other side of my desk. “I’ll email notes about tomorrow’s viral Tik Tok segment. The one with the girl from Nebraska and her dog.”
“Okay, I’ll be on the lookout.” The FaceTime chime sounds again and I nod to my office door. “Close it behind you, please?”
“You were great today.” The door inches shut on his smiling face. “You always are.”
“Charmer,” I yell and accept Janelle’s FaceTime request. “Nelle, girl. Long time, no hear. What you been up to?”
“Little bit o’ this. Little bit o’ that. How you been, sis?”
“You know. Making it best I can.”
“I see you doing big things. Number-one morning show and all that.”
“We out here trying.” I chuckle, carefully propping the phone against a teetering stack of books on the desk and leaning back in my chair. “How’s higher learning treating you?”
“Still good. I’m loving my new position.”
“Oh, yeah. I did read in the alum newsletter that one of our own was running things in student affairs now. Congrats.”
“Thank you.”
“Why’d I have to read about it? I thought you were my girl.”
Her low laugh reaches across the miles. “You know how it is. I got busy.”
“Hmmm. I’ll let it slide this once. At least you’re calling now.”
“I’m calling to ask a big favor.”
“Shoulda known,” I say, keeping my tone light and wiggling my feet out of the high heels I’ve been wearing all morning. “How can I serve my alma mater?”
“Well you know we got homecoming in a few weeks.”
“Of course. Centennial.”
“You coming?”
I grimace at the small square framing Janelle’s face onscreen and glance at the pristine surface of my desk, an orderly veneer hiding the chaos of my schedule.