Page 11 of A Little Kissing Between Friends

I shot her a wink. “Well, you do a damn good job of it.”

“Thanks, Cyn.” She beamed, backing away a few steps before spinning on her heel and swishing her hips from left to right as she headed to the kitchen to put in my order.

Lifting my glass of water, I watched her disappear through a set of double doors beside the bar. Nini was a cute lil thing, but she was young as hell. I had no idea her exact age, but if she were born before 2000, I’d be surprised.

“Amazing,” muttered Cody loud enough for me to hear. I glanced his way and saw him shake his head as he sipped from his glass of cranberry juice and lemon-lime soda.

“Who?” I asked incredulously. “Nini?” Don’t get me wrong, Nini was a sight to see, with her wide brown eyes and cherubic smile, but she was so far from Cody’s type that she might as well have been in Austin.

“What’s amazing is that I’m by far the best looking of all of us and yet I gotta sit here and watch stunners—veritable brick houses, tens across the board!—fall over themselves to cater to you. On some Destiny’s Child type of shit.”

I hollered with laughter. “The only thing amazing is that you think you’re the best looking.” Waving a hand in the air as if his wrong opinion was the thick smoke from a hookah, I corrected him. “It’s Caleb, then me, Dougie, and then you.”

He sputtered, spilling a little of his drink, the red liquid dribbling down his chin. “Dougie?! The fucking dog?”

Tears sprang to my eyes at the hilarity in his reaction. That goldendoodle was the love of our parents’ lives. They’d even turned Caleb’s old room into a playroom for him, complete with obstacle course and a miniature dog house that resembled the structure of my childhood home.

“You ain’t shit, bruh,” Cody declared, chuckling as he used a bar napkin to dab at his shirt. “If there is a word to describe how ain’t shit a person is, I bet money your picture is next to it in the dictionary.”

Clutching my stomach, I leaned to the side, wheezing. I fought to catch my breath, ready to hit him with a comeback, when a familiar figure stepped into my peripheral, breaching the circle of chairs and heading my way.

“Cyn Tha Starr,” uttered a silken voice. “It’s an honor for you to grace us with your presence once again.”

Standing to my feet, I slapped the proffered hand of the owner of Sanity, shaking my head as I did so. While the sentiment sounded completely genuine, I still didn’t want to hear that shit.

“C’mon, Mal,” I laughed. “Don’t do that.”

Malinda Maverick snickered and squeezed my shoulder. Dressed in a purple silk shirt that was tucked into pressed pink trousers that had to be custom, Mal was as smooth and stylish as always. Her thick, long hair was brushed into a slick ponytail—made possible by Lord only knew how much EcoStyler gel—at the nape of her neck and then braided into a single plait that draped over her shoulder, the end secured by a couple of thick, pink rubber bands that matched her trousers and dangling just above the pocket on her shirt. The suave look was finished with a single—but not simple—golden rope chain that hung around her neck and deep purple brogues on her feet.

At least ten years older than me, Mal was an inspiration. Not just because of the way she’d built Sanity from nothing into a powerhouse—no, a paragon—in the Houston LGBT scene, but also because of the way she wasn’t afraid to be a woman. She was masculine presenting but never let society tell her what she couldn’t do as a result. She wore acrylics, kept her eyebrows threaded, got regular waxes, and, according to Jucee, wore sexy-ass lace bras with matching panties. I wanted to be like her when I grew up.

Shifting her left foot back a few inches, Mal pursed her lips. “I know you’re not this humble.”

Cody, who had also stood to his feet, snorted. “Not at all. This is a front.”

Rolling my eyes, I laughed. “Ignore him.”

Mal nodded, mirth dancing in her deep brown eyes.

“Your girl did great tonight.”

She was talking about none other than Jucee. My chest swelled with pride as if I had taught my boo that routine myself.

“As always,” I quipped.

“I understand the song she danced to was a new track of yours.”

“Yessir. Just finished it a couple of nights ago. Literally hot off the presses.”

Mal dipped her chin in acknowledgment and held her hand out to shake. “I appreciate you bringing fresh tunes to the club. Your music always gets the crowd hype and they open their wallets in response. As a thank-you, your tab tonight is on me.”

I’d already grabbed her hand and started to shake my head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t have to do anything but stay Black and die. This is something I want to do, and you oughta know you can’t stop me.”

Defeated, I laughed. “Understood. Thank you.”

Mal released my hand and clapped Cody on the shoulder.