Hunt For Her: Black & White by Xyla Turner

Chapter Thirteen

Hunt

During our junioryear at the four-year college, still in Georgia, Kizzy found an organization that helped abused and battered women escape their abusive situations and restart their lives. It was all she talked about when she got home. I was glad that she had seemed to find her calling, with all of the extra time she had in the library. It was there that she began laying the foundation of the business, gathering support, I was able to help and bring awareness using my platform.

Then one night, as we were out eating in the city, this lady came up to us and said, “OMG! A real interracial couple. I write interracial romance. They are on the hot side of books, but do you mind if I ask you both a few questions.

I looked to Kizzy because I wasn’t someone that does strangers. She was a black woman with a big ass pink sunflower in her hair, pinned to the side and if there was a such thing as a free spirit, she’d be it.

Kizzy smiled and said, “sure. I’m not sure how we could help, but I love to read romance novels.”

“Oh girl,” the woman gasped. “I’ve got some good ones for you. I’m in this whole community of interracial romance authors and readers. They’re super supportive and just a cool group of ladies and so are their husbands. I love it.”

Then she swung her head around to look at me with a smile.

“You’re super cute. You could so be on the cover of one of the books.” She looked at Kizzy and said, “You too, sis.”

I ain’t never heard that shit before, but it made a man feel good. I guess I could talk to the lady.

She sat next to Kizzy and pulled out some green looking device that read NEO on it.

“This is my alpha-smart,” she explained. “I take it with me where I go. You know, I’m a writer and all. So, how did you both meet?”

We looked at each other for a beat and started laughing.

“Lady, this ain’t going be a good conversation over dinner. It’s a long ass story.”

Her eyes grew wide, then she leaned in and said, “Oh, I’m here for it.”

Then she snapped her fingers twice, which made Kizzy laugh. We told her about the shenanigans, how were met, and what happened to cause us to stop speaking and she kept typing away on her alpha-smart. She would pop up and ask a question or two, but it wasn’t until Kizzy said at the end, “Wow, that was actually quite therapeutic. I don’t even feel like I can talk about our relationship with my friends. Well, one of them. They don’t understand.”

I scoffed and said, “Yeah, babe. I can relate, but I got you.”

Hell, well why don’t you let me tell your story to the world. You know,” Ebony chimed in, as we reflected. “Maybe one story at a time will help us understand, one book at a time.”

I nodded because it made sense. I wasn’t into the romance shit, but our story was not common, but this community she spoke about. Well, I wanted to join it. She said it was like Black Twitter, meaning, you just had to follow some of the same people, with issues and when somebody says something crazy, follow the black Twitter hashtag. They don’t miss shit.

She gave us her card and Kizzy a sales code, so she could order some of her books for free, which pleased her tremendously. The woman was an avid reader, so that was right up her alley.

When the author left us, I turned to my lady and asked, “So, how does our story end?”

She laughed, took the last sip of her drink and smiled at me. When she does that, my heart melts just a bit more. One, because that smile is for me and two because I know she loves me.

“Happily, ever after,” she tapped my nose with her index finger.

“Yeah, babe,” I smirked and gave her a look that shared my content of this life I knew we would embark together.

The one that we would pave and the one that our children would benefit from when two people from the opposite side of the tracks come together, humble themselves, and find our own path.