Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Lot
Apparently, she liked his scrambled eggs.
The front door opens, followed by the low thump of a satchel hitting the floor. “I’m home!” Rayne calls out, kicking off her pumps with a sigh. “I’m not even going to pretend I love my job today.”
“Wine or something stronger?” I offer, scooping Queenie off my lap to get up from the table, where I’ve been working on the album cover for a hip-hop artist who wants something nineties retro.
“Wine… to start.” She leans against the counter as I grab a bottle of Pinot Grigio from the fridge and uncork it.
“Whoever coined the term ‘hump day’ hasn’t spent Wednesdays in back-to-back meetings.
One with Diablo. He claims he supports making the waterfront protected, but has he done a damn thing about it? That’d be a big, whopping no.”
“There’s your platform,” I say, handing her a glass and sticking with water for myself to be alert for the night ahead. “You’ve got all the receipts to prove your commitment. Let him keep dodging.”
“You’re right. It’ll help my campaign.” She plops onto a chair and props her stockinged feet up on another, circling her ankles. “But the campaign manager I interviewed warned that a young, single woman going up against a popular incumbent and family man won’t be easy.”
“Yeah? And did you tell her she was dealing with a bad bitch who wouldn’t even want it if it was easy?” I ask, joining her at the table.
“That’s why I love you, boo. You get me.” She raises her glass to mine. “But enough shoptalk, spill the tea. Every dirty detail about last night. First off, was he hung like a stallion?”
“Girl, whatchu think?”
“Ohh, snap!” She sheds her buttoned-up professional demeanor in two seconds flat. “Tell me he brought it—turned you inside out and upside down.”
“He’s got some serious oral skills. Like master-class quality.” I take a sip of water, my body warming from the memory.
“Daaamn. My coochie is so jealous right now, my panties just turned green. I bet the nasty hit even harder.”
“Never got to it,” I admit. “I fell asleep.”
Her eyes bug out with comical shock.
“In my defense, he made me a strong drink beforehand. But not gonna lie, those orgasms were top shelf.”
“Girl!” She laughs with a slap to her thigh. “You did not fall asleep on that man?”
“I did, but he was good about it.” My fingers idly trace the rim of the glass. “Real good. Made sure my phone was charged and even babysat Queenie while I took Maurice to physio.”
“Wait. Queenie stayed with him? That demon?” she whispers as if the cat curled at my feet can understand.
“Apparently, she likes his scrambled eggs.” I shake my head at the absurdity.
“I guess Dice really is smooth with all the ladies.”
“Hmph. That’s the thing. I can’t tell how much is real and what’s just game.”
“You falling for him?” Her eyes narrow at me.
“No!”
“You answered that too quickly.”
“I’m not,” I insist, taking another sip of water. “I know what this is. But I still don’t want to be just another one of his sneaky links.”
“You think Dice is babysitting cats for every woman? Please. You’ve always been special to him,” she says. “It’s like he put you on this pedestal—the untouchable one. And now that it’s physical, he’s probably all knotted up, trying to sort out his feelings.”
I cut my eyes at her. “Dice doesn’t do feelings.”
“He doesn’t show them. Big difference. And neither do you.”
“Whatever. I’ll be going back to New York soon.”
“What’s ‘soon’?”
“Doctor said Maurice should be done with the cane in another two weeks, barring complications.”
“How was taking him to physio today?”
“Don’t get me started. Twice a week is gonna test my very last nerve.”
She laughs, that special brand of commiseration only family can give. “Speaking of dads, mine’s been asking about you.”
“I’ve been meaning to go visit. Invite him to dinner tomorrow night. I’m sure Mom would love to see him too.”
“Great idea. I think he might be seeing someone.”
“Who?” I perk up. Montell Webber never remarried. Despite being a hot item on Bayside’s middle-aged menu, he’s either very private or very picky. I can count the women he’s dated in the past twenty years on one hand and still throw up a peace sign.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I popped by Monday evening, and he was dressed all sharp and smelling like date night.”
“He always is.”
“True, but this was extra,” Rayne says. “Bright eyes, pep in his step, like someone sprinkled a little somethin’ somethin’ on his cornflakes. I asked, but he played it cryptic. Didn’t confirm or deny. I hope I’m right, though. He deserves to find love again.”
“I agree.” I’ve always adored Uncle Mo. He’s everything my father isn’t. Open-minded, someone who cares and listens. Not judgy and uptight. The kind of man my mother deserves. I blink that thought away. “Maybe we’ll get the scoop at dinner. You know Mom can pull anything out of him.”
“True. Oh, did I tell you she asked me about you and Dice?”
“I’m not surprised. She said she was going to. What’d you tell her?”
“Nothing much. Just that y’all are ‘hanging out.’” She air quotes. “I wasn’t about to say you’re friends with benefits.”
“Yeah, she doesn’t need to know that. Neither does Maurice.”
“Girl, you know he would lose his whole damn mind.”
“He would,” I agree bitterly. “But it’s not about me. I just don’t want to make it worse for Dice at work.”
“I hear that.” She nods. “So when you seeing him again?”
“Tonight. He asked me to stay over.”
“Try not to fall asleep on the man this time.”
We laugh, clinking glasses. Then I shut down my iPad and go pack an overnight bag.