Better Than Okay

By Jacinta Howard

“Sometimes it’s not whether or not you survive, but HOW you survive. I guess that might be the thing that makes you the person you are... How you survive.”

When Miami music writer Destiny Michaels learned her childhood friend, the always cool and collected Brian Jace, was moving from their hometown of Phoenix to Miami, she wanted to do cartwheels across Ocean Drive.

Brian has always been able to counter Destiny’s annoying tendency to overthink things, and he’s the only person she knows with a love for music that’s as intense as hers. However, when he arrives she quickly realizes there’s been a major shift in their formally platonic relationship. And no matter how scared she is about taking things to the next level, their feelings only intensify.

But just as she begins to believe that real love can exist outside of sappy romantic comedies, Destiny is forced to question everything she thinks she knows about life, including her new feelings for Brian.

She soon discovers that while we can’t control some things that happen to us, the power of unconditional love, once accepted, can make life better than okay.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jacinta Howard
• Release date: May 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310268526

Book preview

Chapter 1

Hey, um, Armand… I’m not really in that big of a hurry.

Destiny Michaels was seated in the back of a cab gripping the armrest so tightly her fingernails were turning white. Armand ignored her and violently whipped the cab around another car, only to slam on the brakes when the SUV in front of them stopped suddenly. He laid on his horn and shouted out a slew of what Destiny could only assume were expletives in his thick French accent. She bit her lip and tried to calm herself. Thank God she could see her hotel ahead of her and would be free of Armand and his homicidal driving in a minute.

She’d arrived in New Orleans about an hour earlier. The air was warm and thick when she’d stepped out of the terminal. She’d inhaled deeply, loving the way the humidity felt on her skin.

It took her all of ten minutes to fall in love with the city. Even Armand’s driving couldn’t kill the excitement she felt in her veins, breathing in the air of the Crescent City. She could practically feel the history, culture, and fire there—see it written on the faces of everyone she passed on her way to hail Armand’s cab.

She released her death grip on the seat when the car screeched to a halt a couple of minutes later. She quickly reached into her bag, paid Armand, and got the hell out of the car. She looked around and smiled.

It was her first time covering Jazz Fest and her first major feature for the small, Miami-based music magazine she’d been working at for the past eighteen months, UMusic.

She knew when she took the job that UMusic was hanging by a thread—print magazines were essentially dead. Everyone in the office felt it, too. The staff had recently been downsized, again, and there were now just eight people in the editorial department. That was including the intern, Lina, who had all but attached herself to Destiny’s hip. Not that Destiny minded much. She knew it was only because she was the youngest person on staff by far, and was pretty much treated like an intern herself.

No one understood why she’d chosen to major in print journalism when she attended Florida Agricultural and Mechanical University, a school most famous for its marching band. Her mom, Tori, had subtly tried to point her in the direction of marketing, like her cousin, Dorian. Chrissy—her mom’s only sibling and Dorian’s mom—tried to push her toward getting a business degree so that when she graduated she’d be prepared to take whatever job, in whatever field she wanted. Dorian, who’d already been at FAMU for two years before she arrived, simply called her a weirdo.

She knew that, at twenty-three, she was probably one of the last people on earth who genuinely loved print. She loved being able to flip through the pages of a magazine without being disturbed by a pop-up ad. She even liked the way magazines smelled. So she’d ignored everyone. A year and a half after graduation, she honestly wasn’t totally sure she’d made the right decision. But she’d die before she ever told anyone that.

She started toward her hotel, inhaling the thick, salty air. She knew a dorky grin was on her face, but she couldn’t help it. She was staying in the French Quarter and the area was already bustling with activity. Brightly clad men and women made their way down the historic streets with huge cups in their hands, no doubt full of liquor, although it was only eleven AM. An old man in a suit was standing in the corner playing the trombone, oblivious to the stagnant early heat.

The first show she had to cover wasn’t until five so she had a few hours to hang out and relax. Her phone buzzed and she paused just outside of the hotel, digging it out of her bag and answering.

Jason, she said smiling, as she watched a couple pass before her.

Destiny, he replied, a smile in his voice. She imagined him readjusting the rubber band on his long dreadlocks like he frequently did. He was the image director at UMusic and they’d quickly become friends after she was hired full-time.

What’s up? she asked, fiddling with the strap on her bag and leaning against the handle of her carry-on.

Just warning you…

Immediately she felt her stomach twist. Whatever he was about to say was definitely going to be something she didn’t want to hear.

Philly was standing over Chuck’s shoulder while he was laying out the snapshot section and she told him to pull your shots from the other night.

She rolled her eyes, her heart sinking. Working at UMusic wasn’t at all what she’d imagined. When she’d interned there the summer before graduation, she’d been blinded to the political nature of choosing content. Now her eyes were open. Wide open. In a meeting the day before, she’d been told yet again, there wouldn’t be any room to run her coverage from the other night’s live art installation and open mic jam.

Philly, the managing editor, was always happy to shoot down any of Destiny’s ideas. Destiny didn't think there was a single idea or concept she’d presented that Philly found acceptable in the entire time she’d been working there. The only way her ideas ever got approved was if Gabe, the editor-in-chief, stepped in. Thankfully, he often did. Destiny didn’t know what put her on Philly’s shit list, but she was definitely on it.

Damn, she breathed, shifting her weight as she studied the ground outside of the bustling hotel.

Sorry, he said. Just wanted to give you the heads up before you came back in town and lost your shit.

She grinned, despite her agitation. She’d never even come close to losing her shit, and Jason knew it. She avoided confrontation like the plague. Jason was actually always encouraging her to stand up for herself more, to fight a little harder for her ideas. But she figured it was best to play her position. She was lowest on the totem pole at UMusic—only a couple of inches or maybe centimeters above Lina—and she needed her job. She sighed, pushing her sunglasses up on her head, and hovered outside of the entrance.

Thanks, Jason.

No prob, he returned, easily. Just remember, at least you get to cover Jazz Fest. His tone was encouraging and she felt herself smiling again.

You’re right, she said.

She’d nearly done a cartwheel in the middle of Gabe’s office when he’d told her he was sending her this year since he didn’t want to go.

Jason chuckled softly. See you when you get back, stay safe.

She hung up and stepped through the hotel doors, immediately engulfed by the air conditioner’s cool. There were a few people scattered throughout the lobby, what looked like a small band in a sitting area with instruments leaning against their chairs, and a few older couples checking in at the counter. My mom would love this, she thought as she headed to the check-in counter. Tori was a huge jazz fan. It’s why Destiny knew more about John Coltrane, Charlie Parker, and Louis Armstrong at ten than most people learned in a lifetime.

Her phone buzzed in her bag again and she reached in and grabbed it, standing off to the side so she wouldn’t crowd people who were ready to check in.

I’m never taking your advice again…

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at the sound of Dorian’s agitated voice.

What are you talking about? I give the best advice ever, she retorted.

No, you suck, he countered pointedly. The massage you told me to get Nichelle for her birthday was terrible.

What? Why? she asked, wrinkling her brow. Nichelle was the latest girl Dorian was dating and for once Destiny really liked her, mostly because she was capable of holding a conversation that involved more than her lipstick, shoes, and reality TV. She was hoping she would finally be the one to cure him of his whoremongering ways.

She said the dude giving it thought he was Mr. Miyagi and damn-near dislocated her shoulder.

She giggled loudly and covered her mouth, looking around the busy lobby.

So, what’s up, you having fun yet? he asked.

I’ve been here for like two minutes, Dorian, she replied rolling her eyes. But I’ve already gotten a call saying my editor is pulling my coverage from the show we went to the other night. She scowled, just thinking about it. She hates me, and she’s making my existence miserable.

Really, Tweet? Dorian chided her, using the nickname she’d had for as long as she could remember. Her mom had given it to her when she was a baby because she said her voice was so high and squeaky. You’re in New Orleans, dude, Dorian told her unnecessarily. Stop whining and just ignore Baltimore or Nashville or whatever the hell her name is.

It’s Philly, she replied still sulking. I’m never going to be able to make any kind of editorial decisions as long as she’s around.

I told you to stop acting scared all of the time and speak up for yourself. Closed mouths don’t get fed.

She rolled her eyes again and sighed. She hated it when he tried to lecture her. And she especially hated it when he did it by using stupid clichés.

Shut up, Dorian.

See, if you used half that spunk to talk to Portland, you might be alright.

She shook her head and eyed the swelling check-in line.

Alright, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.

Wait, did you hit Brian yet?

Um, like I said, I’ve been here for like, two minutes, one and a half of which have been spent talking to you about Mr. Miyagi and horrible massages.

Call him.

She could hear ringing in the background and knew he was probably too busy at work to be on the phone harassing her about making phone calls.

I will, Dorian! We’re already meeting for lunch.

She shifted her weight, ready to get off the phone with his bossy ass.

Hit him now, I just talked to him and he said he’s waiting on you to let him know you got there.

She sighed audibly.

Okay, Okay, I’m texting him now if you’d let me get off the phone.

Later, dork.

She heaved another sigh and cleared the screen, scrolling until she got to Brian’s number. Brian Jace was her oldest, best friend. Really, he was Dorian’s best friend but Destiny had immediately claimed him as her own about twenty seconds after she first met him in the fourth grade. Dorian introduced him and she’d made a corny joke about how his last name, Jace rhymed with chase and he’d actually smiled. She’d immediately told him that he was her new best friend right then and there.

They’d laughed at her for the rest of the year for that. Even in the fourth grade she was too old to be making those kinds of declarations. Not that she cared. He and Dorian were in sixth grade at the time and she used to tag-along with them wherever they would let her, which was basically nowhere except Dorian’s house.

They still ended up spending a lot of time together though. Dorian and his little brother, Aidan, were practically like siblings to her. They even lived with her a lot of the time, usually after Chrissy broke up with one of her dumb-ass boyfriends. Destiny’s mom always kept a spare bedroom open for Chrissy. Brian didn’t stop coming around, even when they were all living together. He still called both Tori and Chrissy aunt.

Brian was the exact opposite of Dorian, which is probably why they got along so well. Brian was calm, quiet, and collected. Destiny couldn’t remember him ever losing his cool. Everything he did seemed to be thought out.

She smiled now, excited that she was going to be seeing him after an entire year. He had a job interview in New Orleans and when she’d found out they were both going to be in the city at the same time, they’d immediately made plans to hang out as much as possible. She usually saw him when she’d go home to Phoenix during the holidays but she’d missed him at Christmas a few months ago because he and his little sister Alexis had been in California, visiting their mom.

She grinned as she quickly typed him a message.

Two jumps in a week/I bet you think that’s pretty clever, don’t you boy?/riding on your motorcycle, watching all the ground beneath you drop… She moved to stand in the check-in line as she waited on his reply. Her phone vibrated a few seconds later and she smiled broadly.

Radiohead, High and Dry…

It was a game she and Brian had been playing for a while now. Someone would randomly quote a song lyric and the other had to guess who it was. He was the only one who was able to keep up with her music knowledge. She mostly covered hip-hop and R&B at UMusic, but her love for music was expansive. So was Brian’s. She hadn’t been able to stump him yet. Of course, the game involved a lot of trust, with the advent of Google and all, but she knew he wasn’t cheating. It just wasn’t his style.

Indeed, you are correct, sir. Get on chat.

She waited until the instant message box blinked on her phone.

I’m here! Yay! she typed as soon as she saw he was on.

In New Orleans? Cool.

No, in Podunk, MS…yes, in NO.

Don’t be a smart ass.

Destiny frowned at her phone as she inched closer to the check-in counter.

Um, I said ’yay!’ and you said ’cool.’ Excited much?

Calm down. Men can’t use exclamation points in texts... it’s weird. We also don’t say shit like ‘yay’.

Destiny rolled her eyes and laughed, drawing the attention of a little boy a couple of feet in front of her. She made a silly face at him and he grinned adorably before hiding his face between his mom’s legs.

That is incredibly crazy logic, but whatever, she typed. "We still on for lunch?"

Yep.

Yay!!!!!!!!!!

She teased him. She knew he was shaking his head at her like he often did, a half-grin on his face.

When is your interview?

About to walk in now, actually.

Yay!!!!! Dazzle them with your impenetrable web knowledge!!!!

Ha. It’s a done deal.

She smiled.

"Hey."

Yes!!!!!!? she responded, still grinning.

I am very excited to see you though. Exclamation point.

She laughed aloud and dropped her phone back in her bag, loving New Orleans even more.

Chapter 2

An hour later, she was sprawled on the white sheets of the hotel’s king-sized bed, contemplating the ceiling. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, even though her thoughts were swirling. This was her first major assignment and she didn’t want to mess it up. Her phone buzzed again and she reached into her pocket, reluctantly opening her eyes to squint at the message.

I’ve been thinking ‘bout you lately/Thoughts take me to when we were close, addicted to your love, feel I need another dose…

She smiled and hit the dial button.

Common, ‘I Want You,’ she said confidently the second she heard the phone click on.

Brian’s low bass chuckle filled the receiver and she grinned.

What’s up, Tweety Bird, he greeted her, a smile in his voice.

She laughed and rolled onto her stomach, eyeing the large framed painting of the cobbled streets of St. Charles place.

Did you get the job? she asked excitedly without preamble.

Come downstairs and I’ll tell you, he said.

You’re here already? We weren’t supposed to meet for another hour and a half.

She jumped up and sniffed under her arms. She definitely needed a quick shower. Armand made sure of that with his driving antics.

I know, but I got done earlier than I thought so I decided to just go ahead and come now.

So, that’s good, right? That you got finished early? It means you got the job, right? She pulled her carry-on up on the bed and opened it. He laughed again.

Just hurry up. I’ll wait for you in the lobby.

She grabbed her makeup bag and toiletries and headed for the bathroom.

Just come up, dork, she said, flicking on the bathroom light. Room four thirty-seven. I’ll leave the door cracked. I gotta hop in the shower.

He hesitated for a second and Destiny frowned.

What’s wrong with you, weirdo? I’m leaving the door unlocked.

She quickly clicked the phone off and shook her head. After making sure the door was unlocked, she hurried to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She didn’t know why Brian was acting weird about coming up to her room. It’s not like they’d never shared a room and even a bed together before.

She stepped into the shower and forced herself to do a quick wash up instead of relaxing under the steady stream of water like she normally did. A few minutes later she heard the TV click on and knew Brian must have arrived. She turned the water off and quickly got out and dried off before slathering on some lotion and pulling her simple, yellow cotton sundress over her head. She brushed her thick, curly hair back up into a ponytail and applied some eyeliner and lip-gloss. She studied her almond-shaped eyes, full lips, and rounded cheek bones in the mirror for a second, unconsciously running her finger over the tiny freckle that dotted the space just to the right of her chin.

Deciding she looked decent enough, she hurriedly pushed open the door, the steam from her shower following as she stepped into the room. Brian was sitting in the striped green and beige hotel chair, his back to her, facing the television. He stopped flipping the channels when he heard the door open and turned toward her.

Did you get the job? she said immediately, not even bothering with a greeting.

He laughed and stood, leaning against the back of the chair.

Yes, Tweety, I got the job, he answered, grinning.

She squealed and ran across the room, throwing her arms around his neck. He returned her embrace, wrapping her in his arms.

Yay! she said, doing a little dance as she hugged him. Say it… ‘yay!’ We’re not on chat anymore.

He laughed heartily and shook his head at her, his eyes glinting with amusement. It’s even less manly to say it in conversation, Tweet.

She sighed dramatically and he chuckled again. He pulled back a little, looking her in the eyes.

Hi, he said, fixing her with his signature half-grin.

Hi. She smiled up at him.

He kissed her cheek and brushed the tip of her nose with his index finger, like he frequently did. She was pretty sure it was the kind of thing you would do to a puppy, but because it was Brian, she didn’t mind. She hugged him again, letting him pick her up effortlessly off the ground this time. She smiled up at him when he set her back down. He looked… different.

You look different, she blurted out.

He chuckled and backed up, seating himself on the edge of the chair.

Different? he questioned cocking an eyebrow at her.

She nodded. His face had stubble. That was new. His hair was cut short; that wasn’t new but the look in his eyes was. He looked… older. Or something. More intense than usual. His eyes had always been what girls talked about the most, especially in high school. They contrasted his mocha complexion and were just a shade lighter than dark brown; not nearly light enough to be hazel, but distinctive enough to notice their color on a second or third glance.

And he even smelled new. Like soap and spice and… man. She shook her head at herself for being weird enough to notice his smell. He had on khaki shorts and a short sleeved green plaid button-up, which also wasn’t new. He’d always kept his own style, even when all the other guys his age were in their hipster-skater phase. His tattoo, however, was new.

Brian! You got a tattoo? she asked in surprise, raising an eyebrow. She ran her fingers lightly over his well-defined bicep, studying the word NEEMA.

‘’‘Undeserved favor,’ he answered her unspoken question. It’s grace in Swahili."

It’s so dope, she murmured, studying the design more closely, running her fingers over the curves of the creatively drawn letters.

Each letter was bold and artful, almost like a design within itself and they curved into a circle that together, resembled the sun. It was beautiful.

This really is dope, she said again.

Remember Jeff Lincoln from high school? he asked.

She nodded. At the time he was by far the best visual artist in the school. The administration was always asking him to do murals.

He did it. He has a tattoo shop now.

Well, it’s really…

Dope? he finished, playfully.

He smiled as she stared at him again, trying to place what it was about him that was throwing her off.

You have hair, she finally said.

He laughed again, shaking his head at her. Um, yeah. I’ve always had hair, Tweet.

You know what I mean, dork, she said, slapping at his shoulder.

I see you’re still violent, he said chuckling. And that you still have a problem with name-calling.

She rolled her eyes and ignored him.

You know this is the longest we’ve ever gone in life without seeing each other in person. Skyping a couple of times doesn’t count. You just look… I dunno. Something.

I thought you were supposed to be a writer, he teased her, fixing his half grin on her. You can’t think of an adjective?

His eyes were amused. She bit her lip and shook her head, a grin on her face.

You look different too, he finally said, in a good way.

She wrinkled her brow.

What are you saying? You expected me to look different in a bad way?

He sighed and fixed her with another one of his looks.

You’re so extra, he said, his bass voice filled with laughter.

Now who’s the name-caller? she replied, staring at him pointedly.

‘Extra’ isn’t a name, he countered quickly, still grinning at her.

They stared at each other for a long minute. His eyes were still amused with a hint of something else she couldn’t quite read. Not that it surprised her. Brian always had concealed his thoughts well. It threw a lot of people off because he rarely gave away anything with his expression. It’s why even though he wasn’t overly aggressive, people tended to leave him alone. People feared what they couldn’t figure out. Brian just had a look about him. Something in his eyes that said beneath his calm he could be dangerous if necessary. She knew from first-hand experience it was the truth.

He was just as protective with his words as he was with his expressions. He wasn’t shy at all, but it was almost as if he was allotted a certain number of words per day and he had to use them carefully, saving them for people and situations that really mattered. As she got older she realized that was a rare trait. Most people loved to hear themselves talk, offering their opinions on things that either didn’t concern them or were outside of their ranges of intelligence. The realization made her appreciate Brian more.

Suddenly, she realized she was pretty much still standing in between his long legs and quickly stepped back. He was a little over six feet and since she was only five foot three he kind of dwarfed her.

So, what is this job exactly? she asked, releasing a breath and crossing the room to the desk to grab her bag and slip on her sandals.

It’s for the same position I’m in now, basically—just better pay and obviously a new location, he answered, following as she headed toward the door.

She slipped her hotel key into her bag and soundly shut the door behind her.

I’m so excited for you, she said again, heading toward the elevators.

Given his situation at home, he was supposed to be a statistic. His mom was a recovering addict and his dad had never been in the picture. Not a lot of people knew about what he went through growing up. Brian wasn’t the type to broadcast anything and he’d always kept it together. His grades were always good. He played ball. He didn’t even get into fights often. The few times that he did, he’d beat the guys up so badly nobody else was inclined to mess with him. And now he was a web developer with a career that was more promising than hers. She glanced at him and smiled.

I’m kind of jealous you get to live here though, she admitted.

Actually, I won’t be living here. The owners are out here doing business so they thought it would be cool to do the interview here.

She wrinkled her brow and looked at him.

That’s a little weird, she said as they walked slowly down the hall.

Yeah, they’re young and tryin’ to be cool, I guess, he shrugged. They thought it would be good for me to fly here. The company is actually pretty small.

So, where are they based? she asked, readjusting her bag strap on her shoulder. She rarely carried an actual purse; they were too small to fit her recorder, note pads, and camera in it.

In Miami, he said, halting a bit to gauge her reaction.

What? she practically screamed, her eyes growing huge as saucers.

She quickly looked around to make sure nobody heard her yelling like a lunatic. An old lady was making her way down the opposite hall but didn’t seem to be paying them any attention.

Are you serious?