Page 93 of When a Soul Cries

I ordered another drink and stayed right where I was.

We talked.

Really talked.

Not about anything too deep because every time I asked Zari something personal, she maneuvered around the question smoother than a politician during election season.

She'd answer just enough without actually telling me shit.

Interesting.

Most women I met wanted me to know everything about them before the appetizer came.

Zari gave me crumbs.

And somehow that made my nosy ass want the whole loaf.

“So what you do?” she finally asked.

“Real estate.”

Her eyes traveled over me. “You don't look like no realtor.”

“I didn't say I sold houses with balloons tied to the mailbox.”

That laugh came again.

Bigger this time.

I leaned back with a satisfied grin.

“Got your ass again.”

“Oh my God.” She shook her head. “You are annoying.”

“And yet I'm still sitting here.”

“Against my better judgment.”

Before I could respond, a voice came from behind me.

“Khalil.”

Shit.

I slowly turned around.

My date stood there with her purse over her shoulder and an expression that told me I had officially fucked up.

Zari's eyebrows rose.

She looked at her.

Then at me.

Then back at her.

Oh, hell.