One #3
I reached for the glass anyway. But he moved it farther away. I stared at him burning an invisible hole in his face. “You know I paid for that, right?”
“And I’ll refund you.”
“I don’t want a refund.”
“Then I’ll give you a gift card.”
“To your own bar?”
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It don’t have to.”
I leaned against the bar and studied him. “You always this controlling?”
“You always this hardheaded?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “Then yeah.”
I hated that I almost smiled. Ace had a way of doing simple things that could make me smile and giggle. “Give me my drink.”
“No.”
“You do know I’m grown.”
“Congratulations.”
“And I can decide when I’ve had enough.”
“Clearly you can’t.”
My mouth fell open. This nigga. I pointed at him. “See, this is why me and you ain’t friends.”
Ace looked around the bar before looking back at me. “I thought it was because we don’t know each other.”
“That too.”
He laughed under his breath. And there it was again. That weird little shift I felt between us. Because why the hell did I care what his laugh sounded like? I blamed the liquor. I was blaming the liquor a lot tonight. Ace glanced at my phone. “So what’s wrong with the roster?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve rejected about twelve niggas since I walked over here.”
“You were watching me?”
His eyes met mine. “It’s my bar. I watch everything.”
For some reason, that answer sent a tiny little shiver down my spine. But I tried to ignore it. “I need a date.”
“For what?”
“A wedding.”
“What wedding?”
“Sierra and Stephen’s.”
I could see his expression change. It was slight but I noticed it. "You ain’t got a date?”
“Nigga. Didn't I just say that.”
“Okay my bad but I thought you were in the wedding."
“I am.”
“So why do you need a date?”
I stared at him. And his dumb ass stared back. Then realization crossed his face. “Kel.”
I grabbed one of my wings. “Don’t say his name.”
Ace sighed. “Kema.”
“And definitely don’t use that tone.”
“What tone?”
“That I’m about to defend my boy tone.”
“I wasn’t about to defend shit.”
I paused. Ace leaned against the bar. “I know what happened.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Do you think I should be okay with spending seven days watching him play happy couple with the bitch he cheated on me with?”
Ace’s jaw tightened slightly. “Damn. he's taking Tiana?”
I stared at him. “You didn’t know?”
“Nah.”
Interesting. I sat back. “Well, congratulations. Now you do.”
Ace shook his head slowly. “That’s some bullshit.”
I blinked. I was suprised he said that. And it wasn’t the answer I expected. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
“But that’s your boy.”
“And?”
I stared at him. That sounded familiar. Ace folded his arms across his chest. “Kel being my boy don’t mean I agree with everything he does.”
“So you didn’t know he was cheating?”
His expression changed again. “No.”
I watched him carefully. “If I did, I would’ve told him he was fucking up.”
“Would you have told me?”
Ace was quiet. That told me enough. I laughed softly and reached for another wing. “Exactly.”
“Kema.”
“No, it’s cool. Bro code and all that.”
“It wasn’t my relationship to get in the middle of.”
“But you would’ve known.”
“If I’d known, I would’ve checked him.”
“But you wouldn’t have told me.”
His jaw flexed. “Probably not.”
At least he was honest. I appreciated that more than some bullshit answer meant to make me feel better. I ate another fry. Ace watched me for a moment. “So your solution is finding some nigga to take to Mexico?”
“My solution is finding a fine nigga to take to Mexico.”
“There’s a difference?”
“And you’re interviewing them through your contacts?”
“I’m reviewing previous performance.”
Ace stared at me. And I stared right back. Then we bothe started chuckling. He had a nice smile. I looked away before my drunk ass started getting ideas that had absolutely no business forming again. “You’re ridiculous,” he said.
“I’m efficient.”
“You’re tipsy.”
“I am not drunk.”
"I didn't say drunk. I said tipsy."
He looked at the empty lemon-drop glasses. And I followed his eyes. Before I rolled my eyes. I hated when a nigga was semi right. I couldn't imagine agreeing with a man. Okay. I was approaching drunk. But I wasn’t there yet. “I need another drink.”
"No, you need water.”
“I don't want water.”
“You’re about sixty percent water.”
“Then I have enough.”
Ace stared at me. I smiled. He shook his head before grabbing a bottle from behind the bar and setting it in front of me. “Drink.”
“You’re not my daddy.”
His eyes held mine. “No. But I could be.”
Something about the way he said it made my stomach do a weird little flip.
Oh, hell no. I grabbed the water. Because it was definitely time to sober up.
There were approximately eight hundred men in this city I could take to Cancún.
Ace Davis was not one of them. He was Markel’s best friend.
Which made him unavailable. Off-limits. Not even an option.
I twisted the cap off the water and took a long drink. Ace watched me. “Good girl.”
I damn near choked. His mouth lifted at the corner. Oh, this nigga knew exactly what he was doing. And suddenly, finding a plus one wasn’t the biggest problem I had tonight.