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My stomach growls, pulling me from the daydream that was just about to turn into a sex fantasy. I promised Tara that I would stop by Star of India to see her this week. That girl works harder than anyone I know. She practically lives at the restaurant during the week so I like to stop in occasionally just so I can see her. Most of the time I only get to see her for a few minutes before the restaurant demands her attention, but it’s worth it to me. Sometimes just knowing she’s close by is enough for me to feel that happiness my best friend gives me.
Tara and I met at Craibridge University. We were both scholarship kids from the wrong side of the tracks who got placed together as roommates. You’d think two West Side, poor scholarship girls would get along and bond over mutual trauma, but that was not the case with Tara.
Not going to lie, Tara was a complete bitch the first time I met her. When I arrived at our dorm, Tara was already there and unpacked. Before even saying hello to me, this girl told me to make sure I didn’t touch her shit and to stay on my side of the room. I’m convinced she was about to bring out the tape to divide our halves of the room, but decided not to when I insisted I would keep to my side.
Turns out she’s actually not a bitch, just a girl who has been through a lot in her life. It didn’t help that we’re both stubborn, bull-headed women who refused to see eye to eye on a lot of things in the beginning. Eventually I wormed my way past that cold exterior of hers, over food of all things. Who knew it would take Indian food to form an unbreakable bond?
Tara’s family owns Star of India on the West Side of Craibridge. Her parents immigrated to Craibridge from India before Tara was born and opened up the restaurant in the local neighborhood.
If you’re from Craibridge, you’re either from the West Side or the East side. The West Side is the poor side of the tracks and can be a pretty scary place with the ever-present gang violence, but one unspoken rule is that Star of India is a neutral zone where no violence can occur. Any East Side rich prick wouldn’t be able to appreciate the true treasure that Star of India is and I don’t like to share my secrets, so keeping this gem from the evils of the East Side is fine by me.
Before I leave the office, I call Shayla in to let her know that I’m going to be out for the rest of the day. Shayla has been the best assistant I’ve ever had. Her predecessor left on quite a sour note, so trying to find someone new that I could trust was a real struggle for me. Thankfully an angel in the flesh, also known as Shayla, came into my life and made my scheduling and planning needs a breeze. If Shayla ever leaves me, I genuinely might have a meltdown.
“Hey Shay, I’m going to be out of the office for the rest of the day. Hold all my calls and cancel any meetings I had scheduled.”
“Of course. Anything else you need from me?”
“No, that’s all. Thanks.” She pivots to exit my office but hesitates at the last second, spinning back around with her long chocolate brown hair swinging over her perfect creamy skin.Literally an angel in my presence.
“I almost forgot to tell you—Brandon said he was looking for you and wanted to talk about the Nash project. He asked what your schedule looked like for the rest of the day to see if you had any meetings lined up. I told him to check in with you.”
“Uh, thanks. I’ll talk to him on my way out,” I tell her as I pick up my purse and phone.
I head to Brandon’s office, but he’s not in there. He must have gone to grab some lunch. I decide to take off instead of leaving him a message. I’m sure anything he has to say about Greyson Nash can wait until Monday.
I pull my keys from my purse as the elevator finishes its descent to the underground parking garage. My eyes land on my deep blue Audi R8 Coupe. I slowly bite my knuckle and wolfishly grin, as I look at this beauty that is my car. I’m not a materialistic person, seeing as I grew up with next to nothing, but this has been my dream car since I first saw one on a TV commercial at the age of six. Since that day, I promised myself that I would be successful enough one day to buy my own.
I slide in behind the wheel, letting my body melt into the sleek black interior. Taking my time, I rub my hands along the smooth leather steering wheel before starting her up. This car is a wet dream all on its own, but the purr of the engine is out of this world. Deciding I’ve fantasized enough about my car, I race out of the parking lot.The way this baby handles is orgasmic.
I head to one of my favorite places in the West Side. One thing about the West Side is, you might be able to physically leave but the West Side never truly unclenches you from its grasp. I’m living proof, with one foot tethering me to my old life and the other pulling me toward a life where I try to leave it all behind.
Seven
Ipull up to my honorary parking spot behind Star of India. It’s a small, dull, brick building in between two other businesses, but this place is anything but ordinary. This place holds the West Side together from the warmth and love Tara’s parents show to the community. Her parents are the type I always wished I had. They welcomed me with open arms and considered me their 'extra daughter' the first time I met them.
As I open the door, my senses are consumed by the incredible aroma coming from the kitchen. My stomach aches for me to fill it with delicious Indian food. Looking across the room, a smile spreads across my face as I see nothing has changed since I was last here. I mean, it’s only been a couple of weeks since I came in, but I’m still waiting for the day Tara changes the decor.
She says it’s outdated, but I remind her it’s an original aesthetic that her parents wanted. For as long as I can remember, the walls have been painted red, covered with classic Hindu decorations in gold accents. The day this place changes will be the day I think Tara has finally lost her mind—even though she complains about the interior all the time, I know she secretly loves it. This place is a home to so many people, so I just can’t imagine it being any different.
As I finish taking in the decor, I notice Tara standing by the register with her hip popped and her arms crossed over her chest. Her foot is impatiently tapping against the floor as she sassily glares at me.
She’s wearing black ripped jeans that hug her hips perfectly, with a tight soft pink shirt. Her gorgeous raven hair hangs down her shoulders, making her body all the more accentuated. The light coming in the windows and door bounce off of her beautifully smooth bronze skin, making it look like she’s actually sparkling. Her casual work look makes her look so damn hot without even having to try. Effortlessly beautiful, sassy as hell, and a badass chick. What’s there not to love?
If I were into women, I think she would be my type. Hell, she makes me question my sexuality sometimes. I’m the type of person who can appreciate a beautiful woman. There’s no shame in admiring the beauty that women have, even if that’s not your thing.
“Well, well, well. Look what the East Side dragged in.”
I roll my eyes at her East Side comment as I pull her in for a hug. “You know I’m West Side until I die, baby. Can’t take the West Side out of this girl no matter how long I’ve been away.”
“I don’t know. You’re sporting that expensive car, these fancy clothes… Shit, even your pussy has been through laser hair removal. There’s nothing West Side about that.”
“How about I show you my West Side fist to prove to you I can still kick your ass?”
“That was one time, bitch, and you cheated.” Tara tries to get it out as seriously as she can, but her laughter starts before she even finishes the sentence.
“For one, I don’t need to cheat and two, it wasn’t my fault you were distracted by some hot piece of ass that was passing by.”
“You mean one of the three hot pieces of ass that you get to enjoy daily? Can you really blame me for getting distracted by a real life Adonis who walks the Earth? Just tell me, who's got the biggest dick? It’s Thiago isn’t it? I knew there was a reason he distracted me that day.”
