Chapter 3 #3
“Nah.” I shake my head, picking up my pint and sipping. “I got church in the morning. Can’t.”
“Then after,” he presses, leaning forward and coaxing.
I hum, thinking about it.
Tomorrow, Hakeem is taking me to the cinema. Or do I have drinks with Conley?
“Hm. I don’t know if I can.”
“Please.”
Damn it.
I don’t wanna burn any bridges with Benny just yet. I’ve known him too long, and as much as I pretend otherwise, he’s my favorite currently.
I click my tongue, shake my head. “Fine.”
His grin spreads, slow and satisfied. “Good. And save me a dance tonight.”
I smirk over the rim of my glass. “I’ll think about it.”
The beer goes down smooth, cool against my throat as I finish it off. Then I set it aside, digging in my bag just to make a show of it only to be greeted by Fenty lip gloss, receipts, nothing useful.
“How much do I owe you?”
Benny barks out a laugh, waving me off. “Girl, get your fine arse out of my office. Tell Zaza I said good night.”
I push to my feet, grinning as I back out the door. “Night, old man.”
“Watch your mouth,” he calls after me, but he’s still smiling when the door shuts behind me.
I weave back out of the kitchen, past Benny’s staff, and head toward our table. Zaza’s halfway through my salad, fork dangling from her mouth.
She sees me and smirks. “Mm-hmm. So? What did Benny want this time?”
I drop into my chair and steal a chip off her plate. “Business.”
Zaza rolls her eyes, giggling. “Yeah, right.”
“Come off it.” I wave her off, already reaching for the new pint the waiter dropped off in my absence. “It wasn’t anything serious. Just Benny being Benny.”
She squints at me like she can read the truth written across my forehead. “You’re lying.”
I take a long sip, keeping eye contact. “And you’re nosy.”
She throws a chip at me, which I dodge easily.
“Fine,” she teases. “You’re gonna tell me when he pisses you off anyway.”
Can’t argue with that.
We finish our food, and the waiter brings over another round of drinks. Soon enough, the music swells, and that steady bass vibrates through the floor. Zaza’s already bouncing in her seat like she’s just been waiting for things to pick up.
“Come on,” she says, grabbing my hand.
I let her drag me onto the floor. The DJ spins afrobeats into hip-hop, into some dancehall, and we move with the mix until we’re sweating.
Shots appear out of nowhere, courtesy of Benny or one of the bartenders who knows us.
We toss them back, choke on the burn of Wray & Nephew, then scream-sing along to whatever Dexta Daps track is blasting.
My throat’s raw, my stomach’s on fire, and my head’s floating just enough to make the room spin in the best way.
Zaza disappears into the crowd, already pulling strangers into her little orbit. I’m half-dancing, half-laughing at her antics when a heavy hand lands on my waist.
“Saved me my dance?”
Benny. Of course.
I roll my eyes, but let him tug me close. The music’s too loud for conversation, so I just move with him, his hands steady at my hips, my arms looped lazily around his neck. We’ve done this dance a hundred times before, and it’s never been romantic.
Not once.
“If music be the food of love, play on!”
Zaza hollers something across the floor, before she twirls herself right back into a group of theatre uni boys.
“Is she alright?” Benny asks.
“Yeah, quoting Shakespeare is fine. As long as it’s not Wicked.”
I melt into him.
Trying and trying to feel something that’s just… not there. Instead I imagine I’m somewhere else.
With someone else.
Fitter.
Has hair.
Don’t smell a little like Bengay.
“Frankie,” he starts, pulling me out of my forced trance. “What do you want in life?”
“Huh?”
The dancing stops.
“You’re a smart girl. You can’t just live with Za forever. You’re gonna have to grow up eventually.”
My eyebrows knot in confusion.
“What are you talking about? I’m grown.”
“Living with your mate, partying well into the morning or falling off the face of the earth every now and then is not what grown women do, love.”
“Right,” I push away from him. “And what do they do?”
“They settle down. Get married. Have kids. You want that right? Eventually?”
I scoff. “Someone’s a bit cheeky now, aren’t they?”
He starts but I hear the unmistakable beginning chords of:
“Good news! The witch is dead!”
Time to rescue the uni boys from an unwelcome impromptu attack on their ears by a drunk theatre kid cosplaying Idina Menzel.
The night blurs after that: more drinks, more sweating, more music. Until suddenly it’s last call, and Benny’s herding us out with a grin and a “Go on before I lock you in.”
We stumble down the street, waiting for our bus but it’s so cold out we figure it’s better to get a ride.
“A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!” Za yells, making the tourist trying to find the eye stare at us in confusion.
I flip them off, then managed to coach her into a cab, laughing as it carried us home. Stumbling up the stairs to our flat, still giggling as I kick the door open too hard, I misjudge my balance as I help her and crash into the coffee table.
CRACK.
“Shit!” I freeze, staring at the splintered wood. “Oh, no no no…”
Zaza’s doubled over, wheezing with laughter. “Frankie! You finally killed it!”
“It was already weak!” I protest, wobbling as I toe off my shoes. “That table’s been begging for death since last year.”
She laughs even harder, flopping onto the sofa. “We’ll get a new one. Just remind me tomorrow.”
“No, you remind me,” I flop down beside her, dragging my phone out of my purse with clumsy fingers. The screen is too bright, or my vision is too fuzzy, but I manage. One by one, I fire off the same text to the rotation:
Me: Hey love, I can’t tomorrow. Rain check? <3
With that handled, I toss my phone onto the broken table, sink deeper into the cushions because I’m too drunk to be trusted to make it to my own bed, and close my eyes.