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BRANDY STOOD, FIRMLY shook Sinia’s hand, and smiled at Naim over the intruder’s shoulder—that courtesy smile he recalled so vividly, the one that said everything was OK, even when she knew good and well that it wasn’t.
“Goodness,” Sinia said, her eyes darting, back and forth between the lovebirds. “You all look so confused.”
Fact was, they were. A few months ago, Naim had promised Sinia to take good care of their son, Marco. She needn’t worry, as he was in capable hands. Although he was eighteen, Naim had custody of the man-boy in New York, while Sinia lived in North Carolina. He also had a conditional agreement with Brandy to keep her away from Sinia. So far, he’d been good at doing that...Until tonight anyhow.
For peace sake, Naim smirked and furrowed his brows. To no one in particular, he said, “What a surprise.”
“Sure it is,” Sinia said, smiling now. “Hello, Brandy.”
“Sinia,” Brandy said. Her voice was sharp and clever. It could have been bubbling to a scorching boil. “Yes, what a surprise.”
“Guilty as charged,” she replied, smiling still. “Sorry to barge in.”
“What brings you in town, how did you know where we were staying?” It was a tight and controlled compound question from Naim. He didn’t want to sew divisions between the two women in any way.
“I will remind you, counselor, we share a son.”
“Good, that’s an easy one to correct. I can’t have my son divulging my whereabouts to strangers.”
“You’ve been in D.C. Three days too long. What are you going to sanction him like the president has done Russia?” She fiddled. “Isn’t this a great election cycle?”
“Sinia, I’d love to talk politics with you. How ‘bout we chat at the lobby bar?”
Brandy was looking at the exchange, her head whipping from left to right as if watching tennis match.
“Sure,” she replied, walking towards the door.
He followed her, and said to Brandy, “I’ll be back up in a sec. Before dinner arrives, in fact,” before allowing the door to close behind him.