Now That I've Found You - Kristina Forest Page 0,44

know what to do.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just tell them what’s going on?”

“No. They’d shut everything down and make me come back home. No FCC ceremony. No nothing.” I sigh. “Our relationship has become … complicated during the last few months. I’m starting to think maybe it always was.”

He nods. “I feel you on that.”

“You do?”

“My parents agreed that I could take a year off before college to focus on music and that I’d have to start taking classes and move back home if nothing happened. Now my year is almost up, and they don’t think the band is going anywhere, so they want to know which CUNY classes I’m signing up for in the fall. My mom wants me to rejoin the church choir because she thinks I’ve gone too long without God. It’s like she’s afraid I’m going to become the Antichrist of R&B. So, yeah. I think that our relationship is complicated too.”

“Wow,” I say, blinking.

We fall into a silence, like we’re taking a moment to acknowledge that we understand each other a little better.

Milo speaks up first. “Can I have my keys back? I can get copies made for you if you want.”

“I have my own keys,” I say. I’ve had keys to Gigi’s house since she moved here. What does he think this is? “I just forgot them last night.”

As I hand over his keys, our fingers lightly brush, and we both quickly pull away.

“Sorry,” I mumble, my cheeks heating up. Then I wonder why I’m apologizing.

Milo clears his throat, glancing away. “It’s cool.”

This time the silence between us is a little awkward. After a beat, we start walking toward the subway.

“Um, so where does Esther live?” I ask.

“Harlem.” He looks at me. “You ever been there?”

“No.” I start to tell him that I’ve never been higher up than Eighty-Seventh Street, but then I notice a black car idling a few houses down. Something about it unsettles me, but I can’t figure out why.

I turn to Milo. “Didn’t Gigi say there was a black car waiting outside a few days ago? She thought it was the paparazzi.”

Milo squints at the car and nods slowly. “She did see one, but that’s pretty common for this neighborhood. Everyone has drivers who take them to work.”

“Hmm,” I say, still not entirely convinced.

For good measure, I readjust my sunglasses and turn away. We continue on toward the subway, and I hope that each step brings me closer to Gigi. I’m still worried about missing the ceremony, but now I just want to know that she’s okay.

Chapter Twelve

Harlem has a completely different feel from Gigi’s Upper West Side neighborhood. I mean, there are definitely more Black people around. Maybe one day when I’m not in the middle of a crisis, I’ll come back and see it properly.

We turn onto 123rd Street, and Milo continues to use his “memory” to find Esther’s apartment.

“It’s right … here,” he says, stopping in front of a brownstone. There’s a tidy little garden to the left of the stoop.

One thing I remember about Esther is that she loves plants. She had an office at Gigi’s house in Beverly Hills, and when I visited during the summer, Esther would “hire” me as her assistant and pay me a dollar each morning that I watered her plants. After dinner, she and Gigi would take me to get ice cream, and I’d spend that money on two scoops of cookie dough. Frank used to drive us around, and Esther, me, and Gigi would sit in the back seat together, Gigi dressed in whatever disguise she felt like wearing, and Esther dressed in her sensible button-up and knee-length skirt.

“Esther and Evelyn—we’re a package deal,” Gigi always said.

Milo rings the doorbell, and I hope that package deal is still true. Will Esther know where Gigi is? Is it possible that Gigi’s here?

We wait for a few silent moments, and then a woman’s voice calls, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Esther opens the door, and her mouth breaks into a wide smile. She’s wearing a bright-yellow sundress, and her hair is shorter now than it was the last time I saw her over Christmas. It’s cut very close to her scalp, almost like mine. But, you know, her haircut was intentional and looks nice. Her brown skin is a little wrinkled, but she looks just as cheerful and energetic as I remember.

“Milo!” she says, ecstatic. She hugs him so tight it looks as if his eyeballs might pop