5
The alumni holidayparty was held at an upscale country club in North Atlanta.
When Marcus and Samara arrived that Saturday evening, the club’s large banquet room was festively decorated with sparkling lights, candles on every table and pine garlands twisted around the marble columns. Waiters passed through the crowd with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. A live jazz band was playing Donny Hathaway’s “This Christmas” while throngs of distinguished Morehouse men mixed and mingled alongside their elegantly dressed spouses and girlfriends.
Michael, Manning and Quentin were standing across the crowded room, sipping champagne and laughing with their beautiful wives. Marcus and Samara worked their way toward them, stopping frequently to exchange greetings with other guests. Marcus had always been very popular. He couldn’t take two steps without someone calling his name or grabbing his arm to engage him in conversation.
At least twenty minutes passed before he and Samara reached the other side of the room. Reese, Taylor and Lexi looked ravishingly gorgeous in their red evening dresses. They hugged Samara and gushed over her backless gown and elaborate updo.
Michael, Manning and Quentin—like Marcus—were impeccably attired in bespoke black suits with silk maroon ties that paid homage to their alma mater. Every last one of them looked fine as hell, drawing plenty of admiring female glances.
“Is Magnum coming?” Lexi asked, referring to Manning’s younger brother, a firefighter who’d also graduated from Morehouse.
“Nah,” Manning said. “He had to work.”
“Bummer.” Lexi sipped her champagne. “Has anyone heard from Khalil or Derek?”
“Khalil’s running late as usual,” Michael answered. “Not sure about Derek.”
Marcus whispered something to a passing waiter, who returned shortly with a club soda for Samara. A recovering alcoholic, she hadn’t touched a drop of liquor in years, and she was much happier for it.
The four couples stood around chatting and laughing while they waited for dinner to be served. They were frequently joined by other people—some they saw regularly at alumni meetings, others only showed up for special events.
At one point, the fellas excused themselves to go catch up with a beloved former professor who had just arrived.
It was all Samara could do not to blurt out her baby news the moment she was alone with Reese, Taylor and Lexi. Over the past several years, these women had become more than her best friends. They were the sisters she never had. The four of them did everything together. They went shopping, had monthly lunches and spa days, hosted play dates for their kids, planned birthday parties and baby showers, and did volunteer work together. They always supported and confided in one another, so naturally Samara was bursting to share her good news. But since she’d decided to surprise Marcus on Christmas, she couldn’t risk him finding out accidentally. All it would take was someone’s innocent slip of the tongue or an overheard conversation to ruin her big surprise.
She couldn’t have that. So she’d just have to keep her secret a little longer.
Taylor gave her an admiring perusal. “You really do look amazing, Samara.”
“Doesn’t she?” Reese agreed. “Her skin is positively glowing.”
“Think so?” Samara smiled enigmatically and took a sip of her club soda. She hoped that Reese—an ob-gyn who was around expectant mothers all day—wouldn’t be able to figure out her secret.
A passing waiter offered them hors d’oeuvres, smiling graciously as they selected dainty morsels from the tray and thanked him.
Nibbling on a stuffed mushroom cap, Lexi glanced around the room and sighed. “It’s so weird not having all the fellas here tonight. A House alumni party just isn’t the same without the Morehouse Nine together.”
“I know,” Reese agreed. “Only Michael and Quentin are here so far. When I saw Shokare at the hospital yesterday, he told me he couldn’t make it tonight because he was pulling a double shift. And then, of course, Percy’s off in Silicon Valley launching another tech startup. Jagger’s in China overseeing his company’s expansion operations. Gabriel got transferred to the FBI field office in Houston—”
“Liam’s still in Kenya singlehandedly trying to rebuild the country,” Lexi lamented.
“And Derek—”
“—is right here.”
Everyone turned toward the deep voice. When they saw Derek Pearce standing there, they exclaimed ecstatically, “Derek! You’re here!”
He grinned broadly. “Evening, beautiful ladies.”
“Heyyy, Derek!”
He went around the circle, hugging and kissing everyone on the cheek. He was tall, dark and handsome with a manicured goatee and a lean physique. A renowned civil rights scholar and community activist, he was often at the forefront of marches protesting police brutality against unarmed African Americans.
“Where’s Hayden?” Taylor asked him, referring to her stepsister. “Didn’t you bring her?”
“I did.” Derek was all smiles. “She’s out in the lobby talking on the phone. She’ll join us shortly.”
