Checkmate

32

When they pulled away, Patricia promptly leaned over to see the content of the box.

Before she could, Sephora reached into it and pulled out a gold, emerald-encrusted princess tiara.

"Awww, Alek you didn't! Don't encourage her diva complex," I giggled.

Sephora flipped me the bird and in the same breath turned to Alek, all starry-eyed, and asked him to crown her.

I did not try to contain the smile that'd spread on my face and again they went for a kiss.

Patricia and I clapped and whistled, celebrating the beginning of something we always knew was bound to happen.

"At last he came around!" Patricia declared triumphantly.

They sat next to each other and I leaned toward Alek and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Took you long enough. Now please get married before Sam starts high school," I begged playfully.

He gave me a knowing smirk and gazed back at Sephora who was now posing for pictures.

"Don't worry. I don't plan to waste any more time," he said with a wink.

I didn't press the issue further.

Alek was a man of very few words. His demeanor said it all, Sephora would get her happily ever after.

   For thirty minutes or so we chatted among ourselves, catching up with each other until we heard a quick mic check and the voice of the MC boomed through the room. After a short introduction speech, we welcomed Darryl on stage. He was led up the steps by his assistant.

   When I met Darrel three years ago, his vision had just started deteriorating. Now fully blind, it still broke my heart to see his eyes unfocused when we talked. Darryl hid it well, but his breakup with his former pianist couldn't have come at a worst time. Diagnosed at ten with macular degeneration, over the years he followed many treatments and underwent procedures to push back the inevitable.

   At thirty-six, there was nothing left to be done that his doctors hadn't. I believe for a very long time, he thought the outcome could've been altered. After all, he had the money and the resources to get better, but there was no cure and that's a reality he eventually had to accept. During that morning period, he went on hiatus, unreachable by family and friends alike. For three months he didn't want to be bothered and then, he was back.

That was two years ago, he's since adapted to his blindness, not allowing it to stop him from doing what he loved most.

   He was dressed in a white, loose, dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his tattooed forearms, paired with black slacks and leather boots of the same color. His dreadlocks had grown a lot since the last time we saw each other, now stopping well below his shoulders, styled in a half-up half-down style.

Guided up the small steps to the stage, I looked forward to seeing him familiarized with this new space. If it wasn't for that, I knew he wouldn't have even asked for help.

"Thank you all for coming. I am honored to be with you tonight. Most of you have known me for a very long time and, I hope that you consider this place your home. At least for the next few hours."

A few chuckles erupted from the crowd and he smiled promptly, fixing his dark glasses before focusing his attention on his saxophone.

"Anyway, please feel free to ask for anything you want, the wait staff is at your disposal for the night. Let's have a good time."

With that being said, he didn't let the applause stop him from getting in position.

   The man at the piano was joined by the rest of the band on stage. I recognized Kennedy, a short white guy with striking green eyes and short brown hair, slipping his bass guitar strap over his head. Ricardo, an average-height, light skin Mexican guy with black curly hair held in a ponytail, sat at the drums. Three girls that I didn't recognize, one of which held in her hand a trombone, while the others, probably the soloists, grouped up around a mic.