2
1684 Words
Everything was laid out perfectly as some of the employees cleaned invisible dust off the reinforced glass boxes. The floors practically sparkled with the shine of a fresh wax job. Above them, four cut-glass chandeliers added a touch of elegance.
Letting out a soft whistle, Markus watched as Memphis fearlessly walked up to the counter. His MC colors were on full display, but it wasn’t like he gave a damn about what people thought of him. Following behind, Markus could hear the other customers muttering under their breaths. He knew they wouldn't dare confront the man walking ahead of him. They were too afraid.
Taking a breath, Markus braced himself for the usual swarm they faced in high-end places. Between his s****l orientation and Memphis being black, they were regularly verbally assaulted. No matter where they went, whether it was a bar or a hole-in-the-wall joint, they had to endure each biting, bigoted, demeaning word.
Grinning, Memphis sidled up to one of the employees. "Nice to see a friendly face around here. How's life, Sable?"
"It's good," the woman laughed. Her long, blonde-dyed hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and her green eyes danced merrily. Like all the other staff, she wore a uniform, but hers had inverted colors. Markus noticed that her name tag read Sable Grenham, Manager.
Hearing Memphis talking, another customer scoffed, casting a disapproving glance.
Sable took a deep breath to keep her cool. It wasn't the first time someone had insulted Memphis in her store, but she was well aware of his temperament. She also knew that he wouldn't cause a scene despite the commentary that started circulating as soon as the tall, well-built black man entered.
Memphis cleared his throat. “My friend, Markus, is looking for a promise ring.”
Staying professional, Sable said, "Come on. I'll show you our most recent selection of engagement and promise rings. How's the family doing, Memphis?"
"Good," he replied. "The wife is studying for her next semester, Francis is growing like a weed, and Dad is Dad."
She laughed. "In other words, he's as grouchy as ever."
"I've never heard a more accurate assessment," Markus stated as he followed them over to the display. He could hear the damning whispers of the other people around him. How could anyone feel confident if all they were getting was negativity and degradation? “So, I’m looking for something that kind of reflects me and my, um, my boyfriend.”
A man caught him by the sleeve of his jacket. "Why don't you go somewhere else, huh? We don't need your kind or his around here."
Markus watched as Memphis’s honey-brown eyes lit up. "Unless you want to be brought in on charges of harassment and discrimination, I suggest you let my friend go. I strongly recommend backing off on the commentary, as well."
"Ah, shut it," the man snapped. "It's not like you can afford a fraction of the jewelry in here. I mean, dressed in that gang get-up, you're probably scoping the place to break into it later. Can't trust no one these days."
Sable's mouth worked like a fish out of water. Her mind could barely comprehend what the man found so offensive. When she heard him snap at Memphis, professionalism be damned, because she was not going to be a bystander. "Sir, I have to ask you to release Mr. Slade's friend. I can assure you they are not here to scope the place out, steal, or try to impose their beliefs onto you or any other customers. Mr. Slade and his wife are regular patrons of this establishment, which is funded, in part, by the company they work for. That said, please don't make me call security."
Sneering, the man told her to walk away, or he would call the police. Markus snorted a laugh, knowing that Memphis was not the type to hold back when a woman was threatened. He glanced at the manager and sighed. She’d done nothing but be nice to them, yet she’d been flippantly told to know her place.
True to his father’s teachings and his own personality, Memphis didn’t disappoint. "Sable, obliviousness is a choice, and stupidity is curable with knowledge. Therefore, kindly disregard the ignoramus. He obviously didn’t see the Manager pin on your shirt.”
Markus was seething beneath the calm exterior he had perfected over the years. His entire body appeared completely relaxed, but he was anything but calm. He took in the man’s appearance, his gaze locking onto the thin tan line on the man’s third finger of his left hand.
"You've either been married for some time and divorced, or you're having an affair. You obviously have some supremacy issues, so I would suggest therapy of some kind to fix that," Markus stated, his words appearing to hold no malice unless you knew what to look for.
"Your gay agenda will tear apart this country," the man growled. "You're never going to get into heaven. Never! God will not accept you unless you turn from your wicked path and come to the side of righteousness."
Clearly offended at the man’s words, Markus stood a little straighter, drawing on his upbringing. "My only agenda at this time is to pick out a promise ring for my boyfriend. Are you a devout Christian, Sir? Do you follow the teachings of the Bible to the best of your ability, or do you only use it when you want to make a point? In any case, please don't bring the Almighty into your petty anger issues. I come from a family of devout Catholics, and I know my Bible. What’s your favorite Bible quote? Mine is: Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged, and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. That’s Matthew 7:1-2, if you didn’t already know."
The man staggered back as if he'd been hit. His beady eyes narrowed darkly, and he snarled, "What the hell do you know about God? He hates gays, you know."
Markus breathed out a dramatic sigh. "I don't know why I'm even entertaining you right now. It's clearly obvious that you have no idea what being a good Christian is, let alone being a good person."
Someone from the crowd chuckled monotonously. "Markus Roberts, I thought I recognized your voice."
A few people stepped out of the way as another man moved closer. Markus bowed his head respectfully. "Father Nicholas, how nice to see you. Are you shopping for your wife?"
"Ay, that I am," the man replied. "I'll be seeing you in confession come Saturday, will I?"
Markus blushed slightly. Being told off by the pastor of the church they had frequented since he and his brother were born wasn’t easy. "I don’t believe I've done anything wrong, Father. Could you elaborate on the sin I committed?"
"You judged another harshly, and should therefore ask our Heavenly Father for His guidance and forgiveness."
The yet-unnamed man snickered again, clearly under the assumption that the priest would be on his side.
"Father Nicholas, I judged because I was judged, not for something to do. I have been advised by this man that I am not going to heaven and that God hates gays," Markus said, the hurt he was feeling thick in his voice.
The priest turned to the man, his displeasure clear in his dark brown gaze, "Our Father does not hate any of his children."
"The bible says Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve," the man snapped.
"Ay, but does it not also state that God loves all His children?" Father Nicholas smiled warmly at the man as he finished speaking.
His face red from embarrassment, the man angrily stomped out the door. The younger woman ran after him, calling his name.
"Thank you for the assist, Father," Markus said demurely.
The priest frowned, "I still expect to see you at Confession. I’m sure there are things you’d like to get off your chest, no matter how small they may seem."
Markus grinned as the man walked back over to the woman patiently waiting by the cross display. Approaching the glass-encased ring display, he let out a whistle. Scanning the rings, he spotted one that reminded him of Jaxon. "Can I see that one, please?"
Taking the ring out of the case, Sable handed it to him. "This is one of our moderately expensive options, but it is a bestseller for people looking for this style. It’s made of fourteen-Karat gold with a unique onyx inlay. The inlay, of course, has fourteen-Karat gold flakes in it."
Biting his lip, Markus mulled it over for a moment. Deciding that he would find out if they could engrave it, he asked, "How much?"
"Fifteen hundred," Sable said. "I'll waive the fees on your purchase due to the issue a few minutes ago.”
He nodded. "It won't get you into trouble, right?"
"Honey, I'm not just the manager. I'm also friends with the owners. One of whom just happens to be gay. As it is, his twin brother is in today if you’d like to have him sign off on it," she replied.
Markus took a breath, then said, "Ich werde es nehmen."
Confusion flashed in Sable's eyes. "Pardon?"
"Sorry," he murmured, blushing slightly. "I said I'll take it."
Memphis shook his head, offering Sable a small smile. "Please disregard that. He's half-German and has a tendency to switch to it at random."
Smiling, she nodded and turned back to Markus. "Fill out the size here and engraving instructions on this card. Then we’ll get you rung up at the cash.”
Markus filled out the card, writing his name in neat handwriting. Sable noticed the distinct style of his cursive, a subtle nod to his German heritage. After she created an account for him, Markus held his card up to the terminal to pay for it.
Memphis laughed. "So, am I going to be your best man?"
Rolling his eyes, Markus snorted. "Duh."
- Writer
