As I drove to Denille’s home I re-thought a few of my questions and debated on whether I’d ask them. I did not want to go so in depth with the interview because I didn’t want to give away everything, and Denille’s not the type of guy that’s afraid of talking about himself, it’s just he doesn’t want to talk on behalf of others. I drove down Main St. and a mile and a half out of town is a large white-gray brick house. I approached the shiny black wrought iron gate that was designed with an Old English letter “T” centered atop the 15 ft. frame gate and then I buzzed in. A gentle feminine voice came out of the black metal box. “Hello?”
“Hi, I ‘m here for an—“
“Interview? Yes, come on in Nikki.”
I grinned because I then knew who the voice belonged to. It was Camille, Denille’s mom. The gate opened and I drove down the bricked drive. Their front was also in a circled shape but only two cars parked in the front. A brilliant white and tint-less Audi AT3 R9 and a black Dodge Charger with the windows blacked out by the tint. By it only being Camille and Denille they have no need for so many cars, but their house was also large. The beautiful white-gray brick home also had a second story the windows were trimmed in navy and the greenery was lavish despite the cool weather and temp. I gathered my things and stepped out. I again hoped to myself that these books sold so I could at least buy me a better car. I think a Maxima would do me just good. I made my way up the gray concrete steps to the large blue double doors. Before I could knock the door swung open.
“Hi little lady.” Camille said jokingly because she was shorter than me at a height of only 5’ 1” she was desperately touching the midget department, but I didn’t say that. She had on dark gray and pink yoga sweats and a long sleeve yoga top that matched. With naturally straight dark brown hair pulled back you could see that her facial features were as flawless as her son’s. Being of Creole descent her skin color had a hint of brown, which gave her an eggshell complexion. Her eyes were a reddish-brown and her sleek well-manicured eyebrows gave her an I-mean-business-look.
“Hello, Mrs. Townsend.”
She close the door behind me, “Please, call me Camille. I hate being so formal.” She laughed and walked me down mint and forest green hall. As we walked I caught eye of all the family photos, Camille and Daniel’s (Camille’s husband) weeding portraits. The baby photos of Denille and his brother Tristan. There were even photos of Camille’s father and uncles that currently reside in Louisiana. Just before we reached Camille’s office I noticed two paintings on the wall that I knew I had seen before. I pointed and she lightly touched the one of the paintings gold gilded frames.
“I love this painting. It’s very special to me.” Camille’s red-brown eyes glazed over as she looked upon the lion’s detailed form. “Did you know that Karah’s grandmother painted this?” She looked at me and then back to the painting and then she smirked, “and all that time she was right down the street from me.”
I knew I had recognized the piece of art work. Anduele was a very gifted painter and had an extensive collection that had been sold for very large numbers way before Karah was born. The other was of the a small black wolf cub with blue eyes. I knew the story behind that painting but wasn’t sure that Camille did and I was not going to say anymore than I had to. She opened a white door to her office and ushered me in.
“You guys can sit—“
“We’re gonna do the interview in my room.” Denille’s voice came around the corner before he did. The low baritone voice was smooth and very sensual.
Camille and I turned around and he was standing there with a canned Cherry Coke in one hand and a large sandwich in the other. Denille Townsend stands at 6’6” or 7”, he is of athletic build. The heather gray v-neck T-shirt fits perfectly over his body. The cut of the neckline is cut just enough that I can see the fringes of a tattoo. His arms are corded with muscle the lights make his skin tone beam. He had on a pari of relaxed fit denim jeans from Abercrombie and Fitch. Sneakers? Gray and black Nikes, what else. He smiled and those lovely dimples in both of his chiseled cheeks complimented his gunmetal gray eyes. His hair was loose around his face and caught to his collarbone and the black leather rope necklace around his neck. It had grown quite a bit.
Camille huffed and placed her perfect little hands on her unbelievably toned hips, “If you drop any of that on my floor I’m gonna—“
“I cleaned it all up mom.” He went straight into child mode deducing his tone to that of a twelve year-old. And even though Camille had to look up at her son when he came over and kissed her forehead you could tell that he knew she meant business. She smiled at the gesture and slapped him just below the shoulder. For one that’s the highest she could reach without getting on her tiptoes.
“We’ll be out back in the pool house if you need me.”
Camille offered me something to drink and eat. I respectfully declined and she left, making her way back up the stairs.
With a nudge from his elbow—which I might add grazed my shoulder—he had me to follow him out the main house to the pool house. The pool was covered with a black tarp to prevent leaves and other garbage. We walked around and entered an almost smaller replica of the larger home. By the time we entered Denille had completely devoured the sandwich and belching from the soda. He excused himself and tossed the can into the trash. The pool house was a large area that suited this bachelor. The walls were painted navy with white trim along the ceiling. The carpet was soft and light gray. It felt like walking on air as I made my way over to the oversized wingchair. There was a TV that was almost the size of the wall it was hanging on. Not to mention the PS3 and a Wii underneath. The guy had a very large collection of DVDs and games. He sat down in big bed of a sofa and took a deep breath and I pulled out my paper, pen and recorder.
NF: Are you ready?
Denille cleared his throat and smiled.
DT: Shoot.
NF: So, Denille, you’re how old?
DT: Eighteen.
NF: And you’re the youngest of the two?
He hesitated but answered.
DT: Yes.
NF: Can I ask you a little about your brother?
He began to shuffle his large body in the suede chair and the winced.
DT: You may—a little.
NF: Your brother Tristan, he is?
DT: With my father.
NF: And where is that?
Denille shrugged and stared off towards the dark TV screen.
DT: Don’t know.
NF: So you haven’t heard from either one of them? At all?
He only shook his head. I had a feeling that he was getting somewhere around that “no-fly” zone but I asked another anyway.
NF: Did he and you get along?
DT: Somewhat, I mean we were young and just became old enough to roughhouse a bit together and then –he snapped—he was gone.
I saw how much bringing up his brother was hurting him so I diverted to another topic.
NF: Maybe one day he’ll make his way back home.
DT: He’s welcome.
I lifted my eyes to him and narrowed my stare.
NF: But not your father?
DT: Nope—and before you ask, I don’t want to talk about him and you know why?
NF: Fair enough.
I crossed out my next two questions and skipped down to Camille.
NF: So, your mom, I see that you and her have a great relationship.
Again he winced and those bright grays shined.
DT: Yeeaaaaah, she and I weren’t always so close. After “he” left –father—I took to a rebellious stage and completely drove her nuts. I was horrible—he shook his head and sat up, placing his elbows on his thighs—my mom didn’t know what to do with me. She would ramble around the house in speaking French and Spanish. It was insane. I was bad. Real bad.
He laughed.
NF: So what happened?
DT: I realized that no one will take care of my mom. No one but me, she needs me to be the man she taught me to be. If I had kept going I would have been just like “him”.
NF: Do you think if you had kept on on that path you and Karah would have gotten together?
He shook his head rapidly smiling.
DT: Hell no. Karah is…so different.
As he talks about her his posture changes, his face is in an awe expression. It was as if he was looking right at her.
NF: So this relationship.
DT: Yeah.
NF: Do you love her? Do you see love in the future?
DT: I would not say love, but I do feel something for her. She’s so…it’s unexplainable. She loves to laugh and that makes me happy. I want to love but I’m not so quick to love someone, in fact I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before, but I know that when I do I’m going to hold on to it. Karah and I are just starting in this relationship but I do know that even if she and I don’t last I want her to be in my life. –he huffed—And if she and I are to be just friends then whoever she ends up with better deal with it.
NF: So, I can say that you, like her, is in that strong like stage?
He chuckled and rubbed his flushed cheeks grazing his lovely dimples.
DT: You can say that. Wait, is that what she said?
I tilted my head.
NF: Did you not read the interview on the blog? Come on Dee, I thought you’d have read it by now.
DT: Nope. I have not gotten to it.
NF: But did she tell you about her viewy with me?
DT: In so many words. She told that you asked about us but she didn’t go into detail.
NF: It was no different than what I’m asking you, she is just very straight forward. Which is what I love about her.
DT: You too?
He ran his hands through his hair.
NF: Yeah, I like how strong she is. She takes no shit.
DT: Right. Like me.
He nodded as if he was giving her his approval. From the couch.
NF: You two are alike, is that a good thing or a bad thing?
DT: It’s good she and I have our differences. We’ve had our run ins with others and there were times when I wanted to just pummel the guy and she talked me down. And then ther were times when I had to hold her back from doing the same…to the same guy!
He let out a sexy outburst of laughter.
I laughed along with him because just him looking the way he looked was funny.
DT: Oh, so look funny eh?
NF: Now you’re reading?
DT: Sorry Nikki your mind is so open that I can hear almost everything you’re thinking.
I hate it when they do that.
DT: I can stop though –he tapped his temple—I can control it better than when it started.
NF: Do you see anything else with your other gift?
He gave me a –you-know-not-to-ask-me-that stare.
NF: My bad. For the book?
DT: And you know it.
NF: I see that you and Karah both share something that I can talk about.
DT: Which is?
NF: Your interracial backgrounds. Have you and she had any problems with others?
DT: No not really. I mean not like my mom and “him” got in the past or maybe her mom and dad got. Her family, along with mine, is very diverse. I love the fact that we all get along and there is no negativity. Not to say that we won’t run into ignorance but we’re prepared for it. She strong and so am I. Besides when I’m not around she has Tala. That chick is carazy.
He laughed and kicked his legs up on the mahogany coffee table.
NF: Yeah Tala is a piece of work. But again I like that about her, she says just how she feels.
DT: I think she got that from her mom, Isa, that’s one tough woman. Miss Crystal is lovely, you know, that silent but deadly type but Isa is just deadly. You see death coming and she wears Manolos.
Together we laughed.
NF: Okay Denille, I’m going to let you go. I don’t want to hold you up because I think you’re going out tonight to the Court right?
DT:Yep, gotta hang with Ash and the others.
NF: No Karah?
DT: Later. She’s trying to beat my score on the PS3.
He pointed to the thousands of dollars worth of gaming equipment.
NF: Gotta love her huh?
He nodded and stood up.
DT: Maybe.
Well, that was a way of still not answering my love question. Good one Dee.
We hugged and he escorted me to my car. Joked about the old thing and waved as I drove out of the gate.
I would like to thank Camille and Denille for allowing me to visit their lovely home. Next? Tala. Now that might be a viewy for the books.
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