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Natalie steps into the kitchen carrying a brown paper bag and places it on the island. Sounds like a bottle of some sort. My gaze takes in her appearance. She’s wearing the cutest toffee-colored Boho lace-up sandals I might have to borrow from her. It's late summer here in the city, so her tattered ripped shorts and graphic tee aren't going to keep her warm when the temps drop once the sun goes down completely. Always fashionable, though.
I close my laptop. I was taking my time tying up some loose ends before Retreat opens, but I can finish later.
Truthfully, I’ve been avoiding James. He's been in his home office all day and now into the evening. It's uncharacteristic of him and I'm not sure what to think of it. In fact, we haven’t spoken since he made love to me this morning. Granted his office in the basement has a full working kitchen and bathroom allowing room for me to work alongside him, I purposely sat in the
kitchen on the main floor in hopes we'd see each other when he came upstairs. At five o’clock I could count on him to come and make a drink, and that's what I’d banked my plan on. Now that it's after six and he still hasn't shown himself proves to me he's vexed.
I shelve my thoughts and hop off the chair to give Nat a hug. "Hey, girl." I smile.
Natalie places a hand over her heart. "Oh, thank God. I thought I was going to walk into a sex fest or some sketchy shit."
I laugh at her dramatic sense of humor. "I'm pretty sure the last thing he wants to do is fuck me right now."
She puts up a flat hand. "T-fucking-M-I, Ram Jam. That's my pops you're talking about."
Like I didn't know.
Not that I ever talk sex to her about James. That's just too… yeah, no thanks.
Natalie continues. "Sex talk about my dad requires alcohol. Good thing I'm always prepared."
She reaches into her brown bag and retrieves a bottle of Dom Pérignon and a bottle of Espolòn tequila. I like her style. "For real, though, what happened? Is everything okay?" she asks.
"What makes you think something is wrong?"
She gives me a droll stare. "Don't insult me. Just tell me if I gotta kill him." She hitches her thumb over her shoulder. "'Cause you know, chicks before dicks and all. Fuck that he's my dad. I only just started liking him. You're my ride or die."
I bark out a series of laughs and she smiles as she unravels the wire then removes the foil from the champagne bottle. I love my best friend. When Natalie gets heated about something, a stronger accent comes out. She reminds me of a Puerto Rican from the Bronx. That flare can't be replicated.
I grimace as Nat bites down on the cork of the champagne bottle to loosen it. All I see is a row of blinding white teeth she pays top dollar for. "You're going to crack your teeth doing that."
She shrugs. "I'll just buy new ones. Cum wears down the enamel anyway."
My eyes widen and for a split second I'm gullible enough to believe her serious tone.
"Hello to you too." I laugh, and she smiles from ear to ear.
As much as I'd love to talk about it, I really don't want to. It involves her, and the last thing I want is to end up fighting with Natalie too. I’ve hardly been able to focus on my actual work since shit hit the fan with James. If life went south with Natalie too, well, there's always the bottom of a bottle to look forward to.
"What are you doing here? I thought you were coming over tomorrow."
Her face scrunches up like she's been snubbed. "It is tomorrow."
What? My brows furrow only for them to rise to my hair line. I shake my head.
"Thank God you're pretty," she jokes, and I laugh with her. “Now tell me what happened. I could smell your pity cupcakes when I walked through the door.”
I guess I’d been so stressed about James and our future that I got my days mixed up.
My smile fades. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
Blue eyes that resemble the hottest part of a flame glare at me. I give it to her right back. This isn’t something I ever planned to talk to her about anyway. I just wanted to hang out with her.
“What? I’m just not in the mood. When I’m ready, I’ll talk.”
We have a staring match like we’re seven years old. Her firm gaze could make a grown man cower, but she’s my bestie and I know her just like she knows me. This is what we do. I push her to talk, and she pushes me right back. Normally it wouldn’t take long for either of us to give in to the other, but this time I can’t open up, because it could be the end of our friendship.
Natalie props a hand on her hip and shifts to the side, waiting. Her eyes are still boring into mine and I struggle not to laugh as she tries so hard to make me open up. She only has so much patience to give. I mimic her action with a smirk and she rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Her arm falls to her side in forfeit. We've done this before.
