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“She’s biting your head off for missing the shot, isn’t she?” Zara let my hand go and folded her arms, looking just like our mother.
“Yeah. She is. I’m tired of it already. Like, I know I fucked up. She doesn’t think I beat myself up over it enough? I don’t need her help.” I rubbed the smooth space between my eyebrows and pushed out a breath that materialized as a white puff against the cold air.
Zara’s features pulled into a frown. Her neatly shaped dark brows pinched together over her pretty eyes. They were the same tilted almonds that I had but lighter. They looked like pennies. Whatever she’d been doing to her skin paid off because it was smooth like glass and was a healthy and gorgeous shade of gold.
“Well, fuck it. If she’s on one tonight then I won’t have dinner with her either. Let’s go somewhere. My treat.” She flashed me a pretty smile and then squeezed my shoulder. “You know I hate to see my baby sister sad. Also, Mother can be over the top with her criticism when it comes to you. Y'all never seem to get along.” She shook her head like it was such a shame, but I’d learned how to live with it. My mother and I would never get along and I knew this. It had always been a love/hate thing but lately, hate seemed to prevail more often.
“You don’t have to abandon dinner for me, Zee.”
“I know that,” she said, smacking her full lips. “I don’t do things because I have to. You should know that. I do them because I want to. Right now, I want to get the fuck out of this cold and sit down with my sister and have dinner.”
“Okay,” I sighed only because I knew there was no convincing Zara otherwise. She had her mind made up. Another way we were alike. Once I had my mind set on something, there was no shaking me from it.
I followed her across town to the west side. We pulled up at a restaurant and got out to let the valets park our cars. She hooked her arm through mine and leaned over a little. “I picked this place because I know you didn’t feel like seeing a bunch of people we know on the east side. Also, you know all those places over there are crawling with Mother and Father’s friends.”
“You’re not wrong. I just…” We stepped through the double doors of the bustling steakhouse before I could finish telling her why I wasn’t feeling the west side right now.
“Can we have a table for two?” Zara asked the guy standing behind the podium.
“We’re a little more crowded than usual tonight, ma’am. I can get you two a table soon, but the wait is at least thirty minutes. If you’d like, you can have a seat at the bar.” He gestured to the spacious area behind him. There was a beautiful glass bar with shelves of liquor stacked up to the ceiling and soft purple lighting illuminating the length of the shelves and the bar.
“Oh, that works. I’ve never turned down a seat at the bar,” Zara laughed. We walked over and sat closer to the middle but not exactly in the center.
Once we were seated and placed our drink orders, she leaned in so that only I could hear her. “Please don’t let her get under your skin.”
“I can’t help it,” I grumbled. “It’s like she doesn’t want to acknowledge that I know what I’m doing.”
“Because when Grandpa was alive, all he did was sing your praises. She probably can’t handle that he gave you more credit than he ever gave her so she’s hell-bent on not paying you any compliments or encouragement.”
“You say that shit so easily like it’s something I should accept.” I pulled a purple napkin off the top of a nearby pile and began creasing and folding it.
“I’m not saying that, Nai. I’m just stating facts.” I rolled my eyes, not necessarily at her but at the entire situation. Like, why the fuck couldn’t my mother see me for me instead of making everything a damn competition?
“From the gentleman at the end,” a disembodied voice spoke while sliding a glass of something toward me. I lifted an eyebrow and looked at the bartender who’d spoken then at the glasses in front of both me and Zara.
“The guy at the end?” Zara craned her neck and smiled in the direction of the mystery man. I couldn’t see around her so I had no idea if he was fine or not. I tugged her hand down mid-wave.
“Don’t wave at him. Then he’s going to think he can come over here and talk and I’m not in the mood.”
“The wave was just a thank you, calm down.” She frowned at me then lifted her glass in the man’s direction. Okay, I needed to see this nigga. I leaned forward, trying my best to make it look casual, then looked toward the end of the long stretch of bar.
Motherfucking Bakari Godwin looked back at me. He lifted two fingers in a quick salute before turning back to the woman seated at his left.
A woman in a dress that was way too revealing for them to be at a steakhouse bar. A woman with eyelashes that were too thick and lipstick that was too red…
…And yes, I was judging. Hard.
“Why the hell would you come out to dinner with Bakari Godwin dressed like…that.” I vaguely gestured toward them and Zara’s eyes widened.
“First of all, be nice,” she laughed. “Second, why the hell do you care what his date looks like? Maybe he likes a lil’ bit of rachet with his porterhouse.” She hid her smirking face behind her glass while I rolled my eyes.
“Nah, I’ve seen the kinds of women he fucks with and they don’t usually look like that. But whatever. Not my date. Not my problem.” I leaned forward and looked past Zara again before taking another sip. The liquor slid down my throat and I felt it hit immediately.
“See, he knows his liquor because this has got to be Elijah Craig bourbon.” I watched Zara hold the glass of deep amber liquid up, examining it before bringing it to her lips to finish it off. She made a quiet hiss when that shit hit her. She still handled her liquor like a fucking boss, though. I was the lightweight between us.
I took another long drink and sucked in a quick breath before setting the glass down. I glanced around Zara to steal a look at Bakari. I wanted to know if he was really on a date with that girl or if it was business.
Why the fuck did I care, though?
