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Maliki. Most definitely Maliki.
* * *
Maliki has been avoidingme since our argument.
When I order drinks, he gives them to me and walks away, saying as little as possible. He has, however, made it clear that another bartender is helping him close from now on, hinting that my company isn’t needed … isn’t wanted. I was wrong for pushing the conversation, and I’m now paying for it with the cost of our friendship.
That’s changing tonight.
I need him.
For reasons unknown, he’s who I run to. I trust him, and trust isn’t easily given out by me. I don’t trust people I’ve known my entire life, and tonight, my family was betrayed.
Devin wouldn’t understand. His family is structured and clean cut. Scandals and secrets don’t supply their closets.
The bar closed twenty minutes ago, and the parking lot is empty. It’s a weeknight and raining, so the night was probably slow. I jerk my hoodie over my head, wipe away the tears I cried on the ride here, and jump out of my car. Hard downpour smacks into me as I rush to the door of Down Home.
It’s locked.
I knock.
No answer.
I pound harder and call out his name.
I stumble forward when the door shoots open, and Maliki catches me in his arms to stop me from falling. He swiftly locks the door behind us and shoves my head into his shoulder as I break down. He rubs my back, walking us further into the bar. Instead of dropping me onto a stool, he carries me to the back, up a flight of stairs, and into an apartment.
He kicks the door shut with his foot and carefully settles me on a black leather sofa. I peek up at him standing above me, knowing my eyes are puffy and black mascara is matted to my face, aware I’m the picture of a hot mess.
I wipe my cheeks with shaking hands.
I’m pissed. I’m hurt. I want to kill a man I love.
“My dad,” I whisper before raising my voice. “He’s …”
“I know. I was going to call you after I finished closing.” He sinks to his knees and stares up at me, pushing soaked strands of hair away from my face. His shirt is wet from my tears. “Have you talked to him?”
I shake my head. “I waited in his office for hours, but it was useless. He’s not dumb enough to come home until this scandal passes. I gave up and drove here.”Came to you.
He wipes away my mascara smudges. “Come on. Let’s get you changed into dry clothes, and then we can talk.”
I nod, my body relaxing. I run my eyes over the room that no doubt belongs to him when he leaves. It’s tidy and simple, only a few pieces of furniture. It’s clear he doesn’t spend much time here.
Seconds later, Maliki returns with clothes in his arms.
He gives them to me and points to an open door. “Bathroom is there.”
Yawning, I change into a tall, baggy bar tee and an extra-large pair of black sweatpants that sag, even after tying them tight around my waist. I don’t glance in the mirror or attempt to fix myself up. It’ll only make me feel uglier.
He’s on the couch when I come out. I settle next to him and spill every secret I’ve learned about my father tonight, stumbling over my own words every so often.
My father had an affair resulting in an illegitimate child. That illegitimate child is my brother’s girlfriend’s nephew.
I sob while explaining how heartbroken my mother is, and my lips quiver when I grit out how I can never look at my father the same. I never want to see him again after he damaged our family.
When I’m done, a weight is lifted from my shoulders. Maliki sat and listened, not interrupting or advising me on how to feel. He stands, walks to the kitchen, and pours me a glass of water.
I take the glass from him. “You’ve been dodging me.”
