AllFreeNovel
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“You know how our lives work.”
She nods. “I just thought we would both get out somehow.”
“You did, and you came back. Why’s that?”
“Are you saying you haven’t missed me?” she jokes.
I haven’t thought about that. When my mom died, I changed. I was angry and depressed and frustrated all at the same time. I had this knowledge that terrified me. Milana tried to help, but I shut her out. If I hadn’t, perhaps we could’ve escaped together.
“Turn right,” she instructs. “It’s ahead on the left.”
I follow her instructions, turning into a place called Yo Mama’s. It looks like a hole in the wall, with motorcycles parked out front with a few other patrons.
“This place?”
“Best fried chicken you’ll ever eat. Oh, and they have waffles, too.”
She climbs out of my car, then waits for me to get out and join her. I shed my coat, though even without it, I’m still way overdressed. We walk inside, ignoring the glares from the bikers. We don’t fit in here. We’re outsiders in their territory.
Milana finds an empty booth and grabs the menu the moment she sits down. I take a seat across from her, picking up the other menu. When the waitress comes, we both order chicken and waffles with strawberry milkshakes. The nostalgia is damn near overwhelming. We’re ten-year-old kids again, begging the chefs for strawberry milkshakes.
But we’re not kids anymore. Life has changed us both. No amount of strawberry milkshakes can undo that.
“My father wants?”
“Eat first. Brainstorm later,” she interrupts. “Tell me the last time you had a strawberry milkshake.”
She’s feeling the nostalgia too. I give her a shrug. “Don’t remember.”
“Such a liar.”
“Fine. It was with you the day of my mother’s funeral.”
“Same.”
I sip the sweet drink, letting the flavor soak into my tongue before swallowing. “Why’d you come back?”
“It was time to come home.”
I know that’s bullshit, but I’ll let her have it. She could’ve stayed gone, lived her life. She was safe, free.
She came back for a reason. The only reason she would ever come back. Family.
9
Milana
Ifinish off my second strawberry milkshake while Salvatore does the same. We’ve been here for nearly two hours. No brainstorming. Just catching up. I talked to him about school. He talked to me about the casino. The camaraderie we always shared is still there, but now, there’s this underlying tension. Sexual tension.
“Okay, let’s brainstorm,” I suggest, unsure if I want to start thinking of this as a date. “Most of the time, the men are busy with the card games, right? If we keep rounds of appetizers circulating, it will keep them minimally satisfied throughout the night. We can offer main courses and ensure the price is set to cover the cost. Hire some beautiful women to serve, and the men will tip well.”
“Sexist, are we?” he jokes.
“We both know what sells, and we’re in the business to make money.”
“I agree. My father will want more. He’ll want menus, chefs, pricing, the whole nine yards.”
I figured as much. “I’m too full to think of all that food.”
