27. Red Riding Hood #3
Jamel checked his watch, then flagged the waiter for the check. "I'll let you know by end of day," he said, "but either way, we're in a good position. You handled last night perfectly. The numbers don't lie. Don't fumble it."
I nodded, letting the tension drain from my body. He scribbled his signature, gave us a quick wave, and slid out of the booth. As soon as he was gone, Zaniyah pounced.
"You never turned down a juicy lead single in your life, and now you wanna play Mother Teresa? That is so not your brand."
I looked away, out the window at the perfect blue sky, the way the palm fronds swayed against it. "It's complicated," I said. "I'm tired of doing what they want every single time. I want to do something different for once."
She side-eyed me, but there was a softness to it. "You sure that's all it is?"
I gave her a look. "Z, smug is not a good look for you."
We finished our food in silence, the clink of silverware and the low buzz of the restaurant filling the gaps. I sipped my water, rolled the glass between my palms, and tried to picture a world where I didn't have to choose between success and having something that was just mine.
I left an extra tip under a napkin and slid out of the booth.
She followed, humming under her breath. "Never thought I'd see the day," she said, "but I like it. New Romi is less murder-y."
I pulled on my sunglasses. "Don't get it twisted. Old Romi is still in here. She's just sleeping."
We stepped out into the sun, letting the heat bake away the last of the chill.
The valet line was a parade of vanity plates and shiny German engineering, each one more expensive than the last. I leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching the little drama of brunchers and bellhops unfold. Zaniyah stood beside me, quiet for once, eyes hidden behind sunglasses.
There were too many ears around. We didn't speak until her car pulled up, the black SUV idling in the heat. She tipped the kid with a few bills, then waited for the doors to shut before she turned to face me.
Zaniyah leaned against the driver's side and, for once, didn't go straight for her phone. She just looked at me, her face unreadable under the sunglasses. But I knew what was coming.
After a few seconds, she said, "Okay, Ro. Cut the shit and level with me."
I pretended not to hear, but she let the silence stretch. It was my own move, run back on me: letting it widen until not answering started to look like an answer.
She wasn't done pulling my cards. "And don't feed me any BS about the single. Or even the label. What's going on?"
I stared at the pavement, watched a tiny crack snake through the concrete like a bad omen. "It's nothing," I tried.
She didn't let me off the hook. "Rosamira Inez Sweet."
My government name? Really? "I…" I trailed off, and then, so soft it was like telling it to the car: "Things are complicated with me and Cam now."
She made a noise—part sigh, part laugh. "Wow," she said, "I didn't think you'd ever admit it."
"I'm feeling like y'all were really out here placing bets behind my back." I snapped, still not meeting her eyes. "Admit what?"
"That you caught feelings for her."
My cheeks went hot. "It's not like that. Or maybe it is. I don't know. I can't get a read on it, and it's messing up my head. And now every time I see her, I'm second-guessing what the right move is."
Zaniyah shook her head, but not in a mean way.
"You don't need me to say it, but you're stubborn.
You never listen anyway, and I like her for you, so I'm not gonna tell you to quit seeing her.
But Romi—it's been way too long since you let anyone in.
And if it's her that cracks the code, I'm not mad at it.
Plus, you know. She's cute in an androgynous kinda way. Respectfully, of course."
"Ugh, I know." I tried to laugh, but it came out brittle. "She pays attention. Looks at me like I'm the only—I'm out here getting giddy." I dragged a hand down my face. "I'm a grown ass woman, Z. I shouldn't be this down bad."
She reached over to grab my hand. "Aww, Ro! I want you to be happy, sis. I do. I also don't want you to let this get in the way of your bag. You got here by being the coldest in the room, and that doesn't have to change. But you also don't have to act like you're made of ice twenty-four seven."
She started the truck, the AC blasting out all the lingering awkward. We rode in silence for a block, the only sound the tick of her long nails clicking against the wheel.
"I don't think they're gonna poke the bear with someone who's made them as much money as you have, so you can get away with that now. But you gotta stop letting Cam Wolfe drive your business decisions, you feel me? You're still Romi Dulce. Don't get sloppy behind her."
I nodded, eyes fixed on the window. Sunlight sliced through the windshield, catching the edges of my sunglasses and cut a flare across my cheek. I felt like someone had sanded me down to the bone.
She changed lanes and let the moment hang in the air, waiting for me to fill it.
I just hoped being real wouldn't cost me everything I'd bled to build.