Page 80 of Grown
The plane levels off, finding some smooth air, but Korey doesn’t let go of my leg.
A black flight attendant stops by, beaming.
“Sir, care for another beverage?” she asks with a taut smile.
Korey opens one eye. “Yeah. And one for her too.”
The flight attendant glances at me, frowning at the hand on my thigh. I read her gold nameplate: Nicole.
“Um, sure, can I see some ID, ma’am?”
Korey rolls his eyes, flicking his wrist.
“Just get me my drink.”
There’s a brief pause as the plane tightens. You can almost hear the metal contract.
Nicole’s eyes narrow before she walks away and mumbles something to another attendant. They peer over their shoulders, glaring at us. The cabin grows sticky and humid.
Korey continues to drink, listening to music on his iPhone. I stare out the window, the sky an oil painting, the sea below calling me home.
“So yo, I’ve been thinking,” Korey whispers, vodka on his breath. “We ain’t gonna start you with a solo career.”
The plane shakes. Or at least I think it does.
I blink. “What?”
“You need to be in a girl group first. We already got Amber. We need two more.”
“Two more girls?”
“Yeah. So when we get to New York, you should invite your friend Gabriela to come by the studio.”
Something thumps and claws against the side of the plane. “Gab?”
“Yeah,” he says, gripping his armrest with a gulp, waiting for the plane to fall apart midair. “You said she can sing, right?”
I don’t remember telling him that. “Um. Yeah.”
He slips a phone out of his hoodie. “Here. Text her. Tell her to roll through tomorrow.”
I palm the phone, thoughts churning. “I... I don’t think she would be... she’s hard to work with. You’d get mad, and I wouldn’t want you to be upset.”
Annoyed, he relents. “Aight. What about your sister?”
In an instant, I’m a deboned filet of fish, sliding down my seat.
“Shea,” I croak out.
“Yeah. Can she sing?”
“No,” I answer quick, heart racing.
“Well, let me text her and see.”
“Y-y-you have her number?”
He smirks. “I got all the numbers in your phone.”
