“I might have accidentally tried to get into the wrong house last night.” I shrugged and reached for the cake dish.
“Again, Cole?” She glared at me and dug her fist into her hip.
“Yes, Kimberly,” I mimicked her. “You know all of the houses look the same at night.”
“And when you’re drunk?” She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.
"I am a social drinker. I work ten-hour, high-stress days, then I have a few drinks with some of the other associates after work. It's networking. It's an important part of my job."
She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, mimicking Mom’syou’re so full of shitface. “You really need to get your shit together, Cole.” She turned and started slicing into the yellow cake with chocolate frosting.
“You know what, Kimmy? You’re the last one who should be lecturing me about facing hard truths.”
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" She turned to face me, but she held the knife.
"Put the knife down, and I'll tell you."
She looked down at her hand, snorted a laugh, and dropped the knife on the counter.
“Where are you taking those plates?”
Her smile dissolved, and she hesitated before answering me, not meeting my eye. "To Adam's apartment. So…"
“When’s the last time he stayed at your place?”
“We’re not in court, Cole. Could you get to the point?”
"He's still acting weird about the brownstone and the fact that you have more money than he does."
"You're ridiculous. It's none of your business, and Adam is just more comfortable at his place. I love his apartment, and I love him, and we're hardly in the same place long enough for it to become an issue. And now that that's settled, let me reiterate that I want you to leave my tenant alone. She's been through a lot, and she's not your type."
“What do you mean she’s been through a lot?”
“Again, none of your business.” She’d finished piling and packing her plates and slid them into one of the five hundred plastic shopping bags Mom kept in the cabinet under the sink.
“And what do you mean she’s not my type? What the hell is my type?”
“The type of woman who steals your sister’s jewelry when you invite her over for family dinner…”
“That happened once.”
“Or the type of woman that proclaims at a family barbecue that she didn’t know Black families could adopt white children.”
"That was a different chick, and in my defense, she seemed a lot smarter when I met her."
“Bye, Cole.” She walked to the kitchen door. “Leave my tenant alone and fix your life.”
"Love you too, sis!" I yelled at her retreating form.
She stopped, sighed, and turned to me.
"I'm sorry for all the shit I just said. You're amazing, Fruity Pebbles, but you have horrible taste in women, and your current life choices are questionable."
"You really suck at apologizing. You know that?" I cracked a smile, and she chuckled. "So, I'm amazing but still not good enough for your sweet, bat-wielding tenant?"
She heaved a sigh. "Look, I'm not at liberty to share her personal business, but I don't think it's a good idea."
“For her or for me?”
