When we reach Rashid’s hotel, it is around midday. He’s so paying the next round (of whatever). I suspect he let me win despite my unfairly acquired advantage – it was a very close call – but I take my victories as they come. Unfortunately our date is nearing its end. I need to get back to work. Today is Sunday, but still some chores need my daily attention. I usually don’t mind, but today I wish I could stay longer.

There’s a bit of an awkward silence between us when we are at the hotel entrance. It’s Rashid who breaks it.

“What are you doing tonight, Wendell? At one point I’ll need to grab a bite, and it’s just nicer if you can share it with someone.”

I grin. “I’m free.”

“You pick the place; my treat. Since I lost the race.”

I’m very sure that I see the hint of a sheepish smile curl the corners of his mouth, which confirms my suspicion. He let me win so he could invite me to dinner. The cheek! I love it.

“Oh, I know just the place where we could go. Do you mind spicy food?” I ask Rashid.

“I’m British but with South Asian heritage. We don’t mind a bit of flavour.”

I laugh. Even I have heard about British food being infamously bland.

“OK, let me see if they are open.” I pull out my phone. Holy fuck! A plethora of missed calls and text messages greet me. I had my phone on silent.

“What is it?” Rashid asks, concern in his voice.

I open the messenger app to find all texts come from Big Mal. What the f***? He never texts me. Unless… Holy fuck!

“It’s Josie! My sister…,” I explain unnecessarily. He knows. “She’s in labour!”

I scroll through Mal’s texts frantically.

“She’s in hospital! Fuck, what about Soso? My niece…” I explain unnecessarily. He probably knows. “I was supposed to take her! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I try to tussle up my hair and remember I’m wearing a beanie. I’m spinning until I feel a hand on my shoulder. Rashid’s hand.

“Go be with your family, Wendell.”

I’m still scrolling. Right, need to move. I look at Rashid; his hand is still resting on my shoulder, warm and comforting. I remember we were just in the middle of making plans.

“I’m sorry; I don’t think I’ll be able to make it tonight. There’s two of them…” I’m rambling, and I know it.

“That’s fine. I understand. We’ll find another time.”

I’m torn, frozen on the spot. Unable to process the unexpected news that my sister is in labour. I want to stay with Rashid, but it’s Josie. She needs me.

“Go, Wendell! It’s fine, really; I’m not going anywhere.”

“I will text you as soon as I can.” I promise. I think part of me still worries he might disappear into thin air as he’s done before.

“Looking forward to it,” he says, and there it is. The smile I’ve been hoping for for this long. It’s not a big one but unmistakably there. Encouraging me. I’m completely mesmerised. Without trying to sound overly poetic, it’s like the sun came out after a rainy day.

“Go!” He urges me again.

I still hesitate. Then, without thinking, I wrap my arms around Rashid, and I press my body to his just a little longer than necessary before I rush off.

I make a quick stop at my apartment to shower and change into some fresh clothes before I take the bus to the hospital. I’m nervous and excited. I know women birth babies all the time, and Josie is in good hands. Still, it’s twins; there can be complications, and it’s also a little early. She still had a few weeks to go. I can’t believe I’m going to be an uncle again so soon. I hope everything will be fine.

At the hospital I’m greeted by the Turner family. Big Mal’s parents, Otis and Mabel, are in the waiting area. They tell me that Soso is at Mrs Batiste’s and I needn’t worry about her. It turns out Josie started having contractions last night when they were still at the Turners in Covington. Josie had tried to ignore them until her water broke in the early hours this morning, and Big Mal insisted they should go to hospital.

Josie also wouldn’t let Mal call me sooner because she said it’s ridiculous to wake me that early on a Sunday morning. When Mal finally convinced her it was time, I was already on my run with Rashid and oblivious to the rest of the world. I feel a bit ashamed that I made it to the hospital later than Otis and Mabel, who live about an hour away.

Josie is already in the delivery room with Mal. When we talked about the birth and set up logistics, Josie asked me if it was alright if Mal did the honours this time. I was happy to pass on the baton to him. Don’t get me wrong; if given the choice, I would always pick to be with Josie at Soso’s birth again, even though I was a terrified seventeen-year-old, hiding at Josie’s head trying very much to ignore what was going on down there at Josie’s lady parts. I only don’t need to do it again.

I’m just sorry I’m too late to see Josie again before the birth. So I stay with the Turners. I met them at Soso’s last birthday party. They’ve taken my princess to their hearts as if she were their own granddaughter, and she calls them Nana and Grandpa. They also welcomed me as part of Josie’s family, but I still feel a little lost. Otis brings me a coffee from the vending machine. It tastes awful, but I appreciate the gesture.

Then we wait.

At one point I must have fallen asleep on one of the chairs because when someone shakes my shoulder, I wake up to Mal’s big, round, happy face, grinning like a loon and his eyes glistening with tears.

“Congratulations, Uncle Lell.”

Josie has been delivered safely from her twin sons, Theo and Ezra, and everyone is doing well. Josie is still being stitched up, but I get to see my baby nephews. They’re tiny but perfect and healthy. I think Theo looks a bit like Mal and Ezra looks more like Josie, but it’s probably too soon to tell. Then a nurse comes in and tells us Josie is ready to accept visitors, and Mal indicates that I should go first while he and his parents stay with the twins. I smile at him gratefully and sneak into Josie’s room.

She looks exhausted, and her eyes are closed when I come in, but she hears the door creaking and opens them. There’s a big smile on her face when she sees me.

“Finally, the prodigal brother,” she mutters.

“If you’d let your man call me sooner, I wouldn’t have missed the fun part.” I mock-growl back as I sit down next to her bed and take her hand, carefully avoiding the IV.

She pats my hand feebly. “You’re here now. All that matters.”

I kiss her hand and put her palm against my cheek.

“Have you seen them yet?” She asks.

I nod. “They’re beautiful, Josie.”

“Good. I can’t trust Mal’s judgement. He’s too emotionally involved.” She gives me a side-look through half-closed eyes. “Next time, I want you there in the delivery room again. He drove me nuts!” She rolls her eyes but smiles.

I chuckle. “So, there’s going to be a next time?”

She pulls a face. “Ask me again once I’ve recovered. I just pushed two human beings out of my vagina.” She shifts a little to get comfortable and indicates the other room with her chin. “I’m sure he’s having ideas about more babies.”

She closes her eyes again, and I nuzzle my face into her palm.

“Don’t worry; I’ll be fine. I just need some rest.”

Honestly, how does she do that? She can’t even see my face; how can she tell I’m worried? Her big sister magic is scaring me sometimes.

“Come here, you,” she invites me to lay my head on her shoulder. “You’ll always be my first baby.” She combs through my hair with her free hand. “I remember when Mom brought you home. You were such a tiny black thing in a big white blanket. Mom made me sit down in our armchair in the living room – do you remember our old armchair?” I nod into her shoulder in confirmation. “She made me sit down there and then placed you in my lap. She said I needed to be very careful, and I was terrified of breaking you.” She laughs softly. “Mom said, this is Wendell, your baby brother. You’re a big sister now. Big sisters take care of their little brothers, always.”

She stops brushing my head as she remembers something. “Do you know that I used to think your name was Wendy? I spent a lot of time at Mrs Batiste’s when Mom was at work, and she read Peter Pan to me. So I thought you were Wendy Darling. I was so confused because Mom insisted you were a boy!”

I snort. “There we have it. You turned me gay.” We both laugh, and she winces slightly in pain. She pushes a button on her IV line and sighs after a while. “Hmm, legal drugs and hormones are quite the combination, I can tell you.” I could tell her that illegal drugs and endorphins are pretty good, too, but I let it slide.

“How did your date go?” She enquires suddenly.

“Seriously, woman, you just pushed two human beings out of your vagina, and you worry about my date?”

“Humour me.” She pleads.

I sigh and obey. “So, okay, we went for a run this morning.”

She inhales sharply. “Wendell Geronimo Dupree, you did not! Not on a first date?”

I roll my eyes; I know she’s not really outraged. “We did not, and this is not my name!”

“Oh shut it, I’m your big sister! I can call you whatever I like!”

I laugh and shake my head at her.

“So, you both went home like good Catholic boys and met up again this morning? Is that it?”

“I don’t think he’s Catholic, but yes. He had to leave early yesterday and went back to his hotel, and I stayed at my place like the good non-believer that I am.”

“His hotel?” Oops, I probably shouldn’t have said that. “He’s not local, then?”

“No, he’s from London, but he comes here regularly. It’s a work thing.”

“London? England?” I probably shouldn’t have said that either.

“Yes. Do you know any others?”

She concedes. There are probably others, but none that either of us could name. “So, what happened then?” She continues her interrogation.

“You happened. And two babies.”

“Oh. Sorry to be such a cock block.”

I groan and bury my head into her shoulder again. She giggles.

“You weren’t,” I clarify. “I think we’re taking it slow.”

She looks at me questioningly and brushes her hand lightly against my cheek. “Slow is good. Isn’t it?”

I ponder my answer for a moment. “I think it is.” I hope it is.

“Good.” There’s a long pause. Josie’s eyes are closed, and her face has a peaceful expression now. “I think I’m going to fall asleep soon, Wendell.” She mumbles.

I watch her for a while as she drifts off, then I bend over to kiss her forehead.

“You rest now, Josie Belle Dupree. I’ll take care of your daughter, and your sons are in good hands with that fiancé of yours. Don’t you worry about a thing.” All I get in response are a few unintelligible murmured words. I think she’s already asleep.

I go into the next room to let the Turners know Josie is asleep and I’m leaving to pick up Soso. They suggest I should leave her at Mrs Batiste’s overnight, as it’s quite late already, but I want her to be with family. I want her to be with me. I refuse Mal’s money for a taxi. With all the extra money I’m spending this month, things are going to be a bit tight, but I’ll manage.

I rescue Kitty, Soso’s cat, at Josie’s house first. Kitty is Bruno’s sister and a gift from the vampires. She’s a grey tabby and looks just like her mother, Barney. In character she’s the complete opposite of my cat. Where he’s shy and timid, she’s fearless and a force of nature. Barney had a third kitten in her first (and only) litter. His name is Nigel and he was adopted by one of Lestat’s band members, Tough Cookie, after Cookie decided it’s easier to live with a cat than a girlfriend.

I have to feed Kitty first before she lets me even touch her and gently push her into her cat carrier. Then I head to Mrs Batiste’s house down the street. We used to call her “deaf” Mrs B., but she’s not actually deaf; her hearing is just very selective. When I ring the bell, she opens the door after only a few minutes. I think she’d already gone to bed, as she’s in her nightgown. I apologise, but she simply pats my cheek and leads me to the room where Soso is asleep, surrounded by her favourite stuffed animals. Mrs B and I quickly pack Soso’s things into her Rainbow Rangers duffle bag, then I carefully lift up my sleeping beauty and Mrs B puts the strap of the duffle bag over my shoulder.

I’m definitely getting my workout today. Have you tried carrying a snoozing six-year-old upstairs to the third floor? The taxi driver is an angel sent from heaven as he follows me with Kitty and the bag. I try to give him a tip, but he waves it off and says, “Spend it on the princess.” He actually calls her princess, which makes me smile.

Once I make sure that Soso is snug up in my bed and Kitty and Bruno are not killing each other, I stretch out beside her. It’s late, well past midnight, so I decide to send Rashid only a text message. He can read it in the morning. I end up just sending two baby emojis with dark skin tones.

It doesn’t take long for the three dancing dots to appear, followed by Rashid’s reply: “Congratulations, Uncle Wendell! Is everyone okay?”

I smile at his quick response and the fact that apparently not everything, including my nickname, has made it into my file.

I make sure that Soso is fast asleep, pull the duvet up to her shoulders and kiss her forehead, then I sneak outside and dial Rashid’s number. He picks up almost immediately.

“You’re up late.” I greet him after I hear his voice.

“Hey, Uncle Wendell! How are mom and the babies?”

“They’re all okay. Doing really well. The twins are a few weeks premature, but they’re fine. Josie’s such a trooper.”

“That’s good to hear! Always a bit of a scare when these things happen before you expect them to happen. I’m glad they’re doing well.”

I’m so glad to hear Rashid’s voice. I’ve been around people all day, but most of the time it had been with the Turners. They’re nice enough, but they still feel like strangers. Technically, Rashid is also a stranger to me, but somehow talking to him feels easy and natural. So I begin sharing stories about the twins – how tiny and perfect they are, how terrified I was for my sister, how proud I am now, and how lonely I’d felt in the waiting room. I don’t even know why I’m opening up like this. I’m usually not one to divulge so much, but with him, it just feels right.

Rashid doesn’t interrupt me; he just makes a remark or a sympathetic noise here and there. When I’m done, I actually feel slightly embarrassed and apologise for my verbal diarrhoea.

“That’s alright,” he says. “Newborns are exciting, and you just had to get it off your chest. I was happy to listen.”

“Do you have any nieces or nephews?” He’s shown some expert knowledge, commenting on the twins’ sizes and weight.

“No, I’m an only child, but I…” There’s this pause again. It puzzles me that he’s so ready and comfortable to answer some questions and is so hesitant with others. “Friends with kids, you know. You just pick some stuff up.”

I can hear him yawn on the other end, and it makes me laugh. “Am I boring you?”

“No, sorry, … just a long day. Someone dragged my ass out of bed at stupid o’clock this morning and raced me through half of Louisiana.”

I chuckle, not feeling guilty at all. “And it’s a very cute ass.” I hear myself say. The words are out, and I want to drop dead on the spot. Why… just why…?

There’s silence on the other side, and I actually look at my phone to make sure that Rashid didn’t end the call. Then I hear a strange noise, like a gurgling sound, and Rashid’s voice again:

“Thanks… I’m glad you think so.” Is there a hint of amusement in his voice? “It’s not as cute as yours, though.”

Now it’s my time to choke. He did not just say that? I’m sure I could file a complaint about sexual harassment if we still considered this as a recruitment attempt. This ship has now officially sailed I’d say. It’s been a while since I received a compliment on my ass. The last time was in September two years ago, on one of my last days as a hustler, just before the attack. A client had brought me to a shabby motel room and taken his sweet time preparing me. Annoyingly long, actually. Sex is a transaction; you don’t want it to be dragged out too long. I can’t even remember what he was doing; I kind of zoned out, but all the while he was going on and on about my sweet ass and how he couldn’t wait to –

“Wendell?”

It takes me a moment to remember where I am. I’m on my terrace. It’s June, not September. There’s no client with me. Only Rashid. On the phone.

“Wendell?”

“Yes… sorry… I… sorry… I was out for a moment. What did you say?”

“Nothing. Nothing important.”

There’s a pause while I still try to shake the memory; get the smell of unwashed sheets, stale cigarette smoke and sour dampness. I suck in the clean air on my terrace with the desperation of a drowning man.

“I think we’re both maybe tired. Why don’t we get some sleep and… maybe talk some other time?” Rashid suggests.

I nod until I realise he can’t see it and croak, my voice suddenly hoarse: “Good idea. Good night, Rashid.”

“Good night, Uncle Wendell.” Rashid says before he hangs up, and I swear I can hear a smile in his voice.

I curl up on my deckchair for a while to watch the stars. I’m suddenly afraid to sleep inside and wake Soso with one of my nightmares. But I also don’t want her to be alone in case she gets frightened in the unfamiliar surroundings. In the end I stay outside until it starts to get lighter. I lie down next to Soso, her little body a furnace heating up my bed. I watch her dream, her face scrunching up in a frown and her eyelids fluttering. She mumbles something unintelligible – like mother, like daughter.

Sleep finds me closer to dawn, and when my annoying alarm goes off soon after, I feel like hell warmed over.