Suddenly I found myself giggling uncontrollably, my brown skin turning a vibrant shade of red. It was hard to keep a secret from Sam, he knew me all too well. And really, I had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to tell him what was anyway.

“Sam!”

“Girl, what is it?”

“Sam!”

“What, girl?!”

“Sam!!!”

“Bitch, spit it out! What is it? As happy as you are, you’d think you were wearing a gown, a satin garter, and a veil, headed down the aisle.”

I held my breath, frozen by his words.

“Girl, no!” Noticing the look in my eyes and the weight of the pregnant pause. “No, Montana! You’re getting married?! You better not be getting married and I ain’t in the wedding party!”

“Sam, I’m not getting married.”

“You better not be, ’cause I was about to go postal. Gay postal, at that. Dish it, girl!”

“Well…” Just as I was about to spill the beans, Gail came stomping into the galley.

“What are you two talking about? Got me working back in the plantation wing.”

“Gail, will you shut the hell up, Montana is about to tell me about her fiancé!”

“Sam, don’t you—fiancé?! What fiancé?!” Gail’s nosiness had just saved Sam from his verbal lashing.

“I don’t know,” Sam retorted. “’Cause as usual, you interrupted us. Don’t you have some crotches to massage or something?”

“No, we ran out of nuts,” she returned.

“That’s a first for you, I’m sure.” Rolling his eyes, he turned his attention back to me. “Montana, now tell me about your fiancé.”

“I know you weren’t about to tell Sam and not me. When did you get a fiancé and why didn’t I know about it?”

“I don’t have a fiancé…yet. That’s why I’m going to Chicago.”

Like major league catchers with bases loaded in the bottom of the ninth, both assumed the position: perched and eager, waiting intently on my next pitch.

“I’m going to Chicago to visit Graham.”

“Graham? Real estate Graham? Upper-six-figure-a-year Graham?” Barely able to pull herself together, Gail suddenly became more excited than I was. Though sex obsessed, loud, and overly aggressive, underneath it all she was just like me. A simple girl searching for a simple life with a man she could simply love. Though she’d never admit it, she lived vicariously through my near brushes with happiness. Deep down, I believed that she found hope for herself in me. The closer I came to finding someone, the closer she came.

“Big baller, shot caller Graham?” Almost hyperventilating, she nearly dropped her pot of piping hot coffee to the ground.

“Gail, please! Would you calm down and let her finish the story?! Go on, Montana.”

“Well, he invited me to spend some time with him at his home for Thanksgiving in Chicago. And…well…”