Page 10 of Betrothed To Love

“We all live in the same damn community. They should be here by now. Hell, Alex can walk,” Giselle quips. Alex also lives in the prominent Chandler Heights neighborhood and Kyrah lives in the east tower of The Millenium. Our condos are only twenty minutes from here.

“Bitch, yeah right. The day you walk is the day they walk,” I tell her, then grin. She laughs too then sips her signature Patrón margarita. I’m a bourbon girl, and normally Manhattans are my favorite, but not anymore. Clearly, my Manhattans last night betrayed me and had me exchanging vows. I’m drinking a Bourbon Sidecar and it’s delicious and much needed. The bartender Giselle hired for tonight is truly a skilled mixologist. “I texted them both though. Kyrah is about to pull up and Alex will be here in ten.”

“Well, I’m not waiting to eat. Fried fish is meant to be eaten hot,” Giselle says.

“Fish? From where?” Kyrah calls out from the door of Giselle’s theater room.

“Phat Fish. Reya had a day from hell and wanted good, greasy, comfort food tonight,” Giselle reveals.

“Night and day from hell,” I clarify.

“Damn, what happened?” Kyrah asks with so much concern as she plops into her usual chair behind me.

“As soon as Alex gets here, I’ll tell you. It’s really too much to say over and over,” I tell her.

“Sounds vodka worthy,” Kyrah says. “Are the drinks good?”

“Good and strong,” I admit. “I better eat something to absorb mine.”

“I want it all, especially Phat Fish. I hope we got some of their corn nuggets,” Kyrah

says.

“I did. I got catfish sliders and the nuggets. Plus, there’s fried chicken and greens from Redmond’s and I even got steak frites and truffle fries from Diablo’s,” Giselle says.

“Well, shit! I’m about to be drunk and full as hell,” Kyrah says.

“Meeeee too,” I admit. My stomach is devoid of all food. I haven’t had anything but my matcha today and I’m hungry. My appetite disappeared after I learned of my drunken nuptials, but now that I’m here with my sisters, I can eat. With them, I can eat, drink, cry, yell, laugh, whatever I want. Because there’s no judgement among us, only strong opinions backed up by love.

“I’m here! Where’s the damn drinks?” Alex asks the moment she enters the room.

“Late and loud,” Giselle teases as we all walk to the food and bar area at the back of the room. As usual, everything we need is laid out perfectly.

“We started damn near two hours early. It’s a miracle I made it now,” Alex says with a smile.

Friday Night Foolishness is our weekly ritual. As four successful and hardworking Black women, we have extremely busy and complicated lives. Giselle owns an exclusive escort service that services Crescent Falls’s elite, rich, and even famous. Kyrah is the Dean of the Walker Business College at CFU and Alex is a financial genius. She’s CEO and owner of The Stansfield Investment Group and minority owner of the NBA champions, the Royals. We’re busy but intentional, and every Friday night, we carve out this time to decompress, relax, and catch up.

When our plates are full and cups properly filled, we return to the chairs and get comfortable. At some point tonight, a movie will be played on the mounted, 135” curved screen, but not until we talk.

“So why the good, greasy food? Whose week was worse than mine?” Alex asks.

“What was wrong with your week?” I ask Alex but Giselle answers.

“Don’t try that, Reya. Your ass had me waiting thirty minutes to hear why you called me in a panic, sounding crazy and shit. You go first. What’s up?”

After filling my lungs with air and gathering my still scattered thoughts, I exhale and spill the news. “You know I had the ball last night. I really didn’t want to go. My grandparents were heavy on my mind plus the week had been rough with court and the nagging calls with Duke,” I say and Alex’s eyebrow pinches. “Duke, my campaign manager,” I remind her.

“Shit! Tight pants,” Alex exclaims while shaking her head and I shake mine too. The brotha loves wearing tight ass pants.

“So I went, apparently got drunk as hell, and⁠—”

“Drunk?” Kyrah asks with too much surprise.

“My Manhattans,” I say.

“After drinking that Velvet Buzz?” Kyrah queries.

“What the hell is a damn Velvet Buzz?” Alex asks.