Page 43 of Heart Of A Goon II

Slowly, I spun around in his direction. His hand was planted firm on the marble bar top, as he smiled at me. “I’m old enough to be your mama.”

I continued to sip the cranberry juice. “You’re not though… most important thing, right?”

Shrugging, I smiled. “Guess that’s the important first step… that we’re not kin.”

He stepped closer. “As beautiful as you are, it would have been a shame. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Never offered it.”

“Preston Vance,” he decided to give his.

I removed my hand from the sweaty glass, and shook his.

“Mariella.”

“Not too many women hang around here.”

I looked around. “I’m starting to notice that. I needed the distraction.”

“From?”

“Work.”

He was intrigued when I mentioned work. “Guess we all could use a distraction from work. What business do you deal in?”

“Imports,” I nonchalantly replied while staring down at my phone. “Sorry, my husband.”

Papa had sent a text message to check in with me. He never worried about anything and knew that I knew how to handle myself. If he did worry, then it would turn me off. I never wanted to be on the receiving end of feeling helpless again.

It wasn’t a good feeling.

People worried about you, and constantly checking in on you. Once my memory started to recover, I remember Papa being so worried that he barely left my side.

As a husband, that was expected of him. It was his job to make sure his wife was alright. I hated how he looked at me with pity in his eyes. He always wanted to help me, even to do the smallest things.

“I respect marriages.” He backed up, smiling with the hint of mischief in his eyes. Had I given him an inkling that I wanted to disrespect my marriage, he would have been down.

“Thank you.” I smiled, as I watched the elevator doors open.

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Queen Inferno made her way out those elevator doors dressed in a black floor length leather jacket, thigh high stiletto boots, and a little black dress that left little to imagine once she decided to shake the jacket off.

Sipping my cranberry juice, I replied, “Her.”

Preston looked at me confused. “Huh?”

I pointed while Blair was talking to one of the bouncers. He was asking if she wanted him to take her coat. He slowly turned and his mouth was at his feet as he drooled over my daughter.

Her pixie had grown out a bit, but that blonde always stopped the show. Her light eyes zoomed in on me, and she looked away.

“Who is she?” I pretended not to know.

“Good fucking question,” Preston mumbled as she made her way towards the bar.

He didn’t even say goodbye before he was making his way back to the other end of the bar. Even in this dim ass lighting, those red nails could be spotted anywhere. She ordered a drink, even though she would babysit it because she was still breastfeeding.

When I spoke about feeling helpless, I thought about my daughter. Everyone treated Blair like she was a fragile piece of cloth that couldn’t be torn. When in reality, she had been through more shit than all of us.