Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“Draw four, Aaron!” screams Lottie, Soledad’s youngest.
No answering response comes from Aaron, who is only partially verbal. I love how, now that he’s comfortable with our group, he’s a little more engaged.
“Jesus,” Yasmen groans. “Uno again? Please make it stop.”
“We also have Taboo,” Soledad says, rubbing her hands together. “And Cards Against Humanity.”
“Josiah does like that one,” Yasmen admits grudgingly. “I guess let the games begin.”
Another text message flashes on my phone.
Maverick: Hey. So we starting a new episode or what?
The scene of domesticity suddenly feels a little tight around my collar. Everyone paired off. All the kids having blended family fun. I’m usually fine being the glamorous third wheel who needs nothing and nobody beyond my girls. But tonight that ache spreads over the surface of my heart like an ink stain, and I want… more. Something else. The world isn’t designed for women like me. Women who’d rather be single literally for years than settle for a partner not worthy of her. A woman who doesn’t want to be a mother, and assumes the rich auntie role with panache, but occasionally feels left out on game night.
“Can I get a rain check?” I ask, grabbing a paper plate and loading it with several hors d’oeuvres and some of Soledad’s brownie batter dip. I love that shit. “I think I’m gonna head out.”
“And miss game night?” Soledad’s consternation is clear.
Yasmen’s eyes drift from my face to the phone still clutched in my hand. “Let’s give her a pass, Sol.”
“I promise next time,” I say, heading for the back door and balancing my heavy plate. “I’m in for Taboo and Picklenary—”
“Pictionary,” Soledad corrects me with a smile.
“That too. All of ’em. Next time. Love yous!”
“Love yous,” they both chorus.
As soon as I’m in my car I set the plate on the passenger seat and take my phone back out.
Me: Hey! I’m down. Give me twenty?
Maverick: I’ll wait for you.
CHAPTER 23
HENDRIX
Tonight is Soft Girl Saturday.
Now I could be out for dinner or at a party or a premiere. Even a strip club. Atlanta excels in bouncing titties and bare ass with wings on the side. I could be out in them streets, but I’m tired. I want a low-key night where I pamper myself. After the week… the month—okay, the year I’ve had—I deserve.
The sound of my girl Tems crooning drifts through my apartment, her song as sultry as a Caribbean breeze. Cradling a glass of wine, I walk out onto the balcony overlooking Sky Square. It’s Georgia in late July, so it’s hot, but at nearly ten o’clock, it’s cooled a little. Enough for me to lounge on my balcony, leaning on the rail and watching the people taking to Skyland’s cobblestone streets on a Saturday night. I’m wearing my skimpy silk pajamas with the spaghetti strap top and the short bottoms. My hair is deep conditioning, the natural curls soaking up every bit of moisture they can before I braid them up and throw my hair in a new protective style next week. My brightening under-eye patches are on. I’ve done my glass-skin routine so my face looks like a glazed doughnut.
I’m chilling and in for the night.
The only thing I neglected in this completely indulgent evening of self-care is food.
I pull up a delivery app on my phone.
A notification from Black Business interrupts my order, and I see Zere’s name before it scrolls away. Curiosity piqued, I pull up the social media site.
It’s a photo of Zere and some guy I don’t recognize, but feel somehow that I should. He’s about her height. A white man with light brown hair, athletic build. The headline below the photo blares speculation.
Hard Launch? Is Zere Moving on with a New Mogul?
The former supermodel stepped out last night with LA-based real estate mogul Charles Filmore. Spotted leaving Hollywood’s Sugarfish, the two looked very cozy and neighboring diners reported they held hands on the table. This sighting comes a mere two months after the model-turned-television-personality released a statement about the end of her three-year relationship with tech mogul Maverick Bell.
Another mogul, huh? Girl, you got a type. We see you. Get that bag, boo.
Zere and I haven’t spoken much lately. We’ve both been doing other things, but there are a few network executives reading our pitch and we have meetings in New York next week.
“And it’s my birthday,” Zere had said on our last call. “You can stay for my party. Please come.”
I had said yes, and I hope I don’t come to regret it. It occurred to me to ask if Maverick would be attending her party, but that might raise suspicions. Why would I need to know if her ex-boyfriend will be there?
I glance back down at the Black Business post. Considering Zere’s glowing smile and the hand tucked into the real estate mogul’s as he helps her into his Maserati, maybe she wouldn’t care that Maverick and I are friends.