BooksBarbecue
Back Someone Had to Do It
Chapters (39)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. Dedication
  4. About the Authors
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  37. THE STORY BEHIND SOMEONE HAD TO DO IT
  38. SOMEONE HAD TO DO IT: THE PLAYLIST
  39. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

A door closes loudly somewhere and when I look up and see Bierman stepping out, I think of everything that’s happened, of all the things I’ve been waiting to say to his face, which basically boil down to him being a racist and hack detective, but when he gets closer, I suddenly lose the inclination.

He’s not worth my words anyway.

Glover looks at me and apologizes again for arresting me as if it was all her fault, and I realize she is kind of like my hero. I thank her for all she’s done, for seeing me. For so many years, no one saw me.

When I stand to leave, we don’t shake hands. Glover hugs me, and immediately I feel like I might cry. I resist the urge to pump my fist into the air and decide that tonight will be the sixth time I watch Black Panther just on principle.

30

BRANDI

Still, I don’t sleep through the night for five days. Not until it’s Saturday and Nate is back in New York for the weekend and there is at least some sense of normalcy in my world after the fucking whirlwind of Taylor Van Doren.

I still can’t believe it worked.

Even though I trusted Glover, there was still some part of me that kept telling me that this plan was impossible to pull off. I just swore this crazy girl would find a way out, just like she’s always managed to do.

“Babe, come on,” Nate says, slipping into the room behind me. “The car is downstairs and you’re not even dressed.”

He’s right. I’m in a nude bra and a seamless thong because I thought I was going to wear my cream knit dress for dinner, but that was three dresses ago. I step out of another chocolate brown dress I picked up from a charity shop on the Upper East Side for thirty dollars and add it to the heap of clothes covering the bed. I thought a dress would be simple and easy, except now I’m thinking maybe a skirt and blouse would be more appropriate for meeting Nate’s parents, but when I shuffle through my hangers to pair something together, nothing works.

“I can’t do this,” I say.

“My mom already has the lasagna in the oven, Great Grandma’s secret recipe. We have no choice now.”

“I’m serious, Nate. I don’t think I can do the whole meet-your-parents thing right now.”