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“Come on, Tay—”
“Don’t ‘come on, Tay’ me. We’re going out! You need to have some fun.”
“Yes, let’s! I need to shake my ass.” Lee dances in her seat.
“Well, let me call Larry and let him know,” Ariel adds, cosigning Chante’s foolery.
There’s no sense in fighting with them, because I’ll never win. Once Chante’s made up her mind, it’s solid, nothing will change it. And unless I want the bitch bugging me all day and night and maybe through to next week, it’s best I suck it up and get excited. My phone rings, vibrating against my foot on the floor. The girls are so busy chatting, I take the moment to see who it is. I recognize the number from yesterday and cross my legs to still the pulsing his call sends to my pussy. Declining it, I work to hide my smile and place the phone face-down on the table.
“Jess, you should wear the little red number you got a couple of weeks ago. The short one,” Lee says when I return my attention to my friends.
I nod and take another forkful of my food. My phone chimes to life again, rattling the table and clinking against my plate. Flipping it over, I see it’s him again and quickly hit ignore. But only a second later it goes off once more, this time alerting me of a text. I lean forward onto my forearms, using my left hand to tap open his message while trying to keep one ear on the conversation.
What are you doing?his message reads.
I smile and thumb my response: Having brunch with my girls. How can I help you?
Brunch sounds nice! What are you having?
His reply is tasteful, polite, but I must admit a little disappointing. A part of me was expecting some kinky shit to pop up on my screen. The thought of reading all the freaky things he wants me to do to myself whilst my friends sit clueless next to me is exciting. But he presents me with decency. What the fuck? What’s gotten into me?
Instead of responding, I lift my phone and snap a picture of our half-eaten food. Pressing send, I sit it down and toss a piece of bacon in my mouth.
“How are you going to take a photo of the food after we’ve eaten it?” Lee asks in between chews.
“So, where are we going tonight?” I ask, avoiding her question. My text alert chimes, stealing my focus, causing me to miss the location announcement.
A woman who loves to eat. I love it! It all looks delicious.
It is! Would you like some? I reply.
I’ll happily take whatever you’re offering me, sweets.
Be careful what you wish for, I joke.
I’m not worried!
Maybe you should be.
Why is that?
Not expecting him to respond so quickly, I stare at the messages blankly. I have no witty comeback for him, and the evidence of that must show on my face. Chante taps my foot, and I look at her.
“What are you concentrating so hard on over there?” She nods to my hands.
“Uh…nothing. Was replying to my boss,” I lie and sit my phone face-down, deciding to leave the conversation where it is for now. Maybe I’ll come up with something flirty to say.
“I’ma take your damn phone,” Lee barks. “It’s girls’ time, no work. Now come on so we can make this pedicure appointment. I’m sure you’ve been neglecting them dogs with all this work you’re doing.”
Wiggling my toes through my flats, I try to hold in my laugh. I swear, I love my friends, but it irks my nerves when they’re right. My feet are begging to be pampered, and it’s not even funny.
Music blares as we squirm through the ocean of people. After our pedicures, I’d hoped Chante would’ve changed her mind about going out tonight, but luck wasn’t on my side. For the last ten minutes, the girls and I struggled to push our way into the club in search of a spot that’s a little less crowded. We find one near the corner of the bar. The floor is sticky under my shoes, and the scent of booze and bad cologne fills the air.
“What can I get you, ladies?” the bartender questions.
“A round of shots, please. Also, two cranberry and vodkas, one Hennessy, and a pineapple and vodka”. Knowing exactly what my friends like, I place the order and direct my attention to the girls.
Chante is already dancing, and Lee is warming up. Ariel stays close to me while I wait for the drinks. Like me, she isn’t much into the scene—crowds of people rubbing against each other in an attempt at some fun and maybe the occasional hookup. Liquid courage is definitely needed if we’re to be living it up and enjoying the night. The bartender places eight glasses in front of me, and I thank him by handing him my credit card to open a tab. Ariel takes the four tiny glasses into both hands, passing us each one for ourselves. As she does this, I pick up the small plate of limes, holding it out for them to snag a slice.
