Page 49 of The Need to Know

Pops snorted and hung his head as he shook it. “You and your collection.”

There he went again, assuming I was nothing more than lust and hormones like some horny teen.

“A business contact, Pops. Trust, I’m cooling it on women for the time being,” I assured him.

“Oh really?”

Outside of Nastasia, I needed a break anyway. Waking up to having Asshole scrawled on my wall made the decision simple. “Yep. Sadé’s the only girl for me.”

Copeland’s was steady for eleven a.m. The tantalizing smell of fried chicken, grilled steak, and the scent of seafood hung in the air, illustrating what Copeland’s had to offer. Around me the place was busy with life. Waiters going here and there from table to table, and men and women being seated or leaving.

Copeland’s was so busy I almost missed her, but then, you couldn’t miss Paisley if you tried. She walked into the room and a series of male gazes wafted in her direction instantly. In her black leather pencil skirt, red silk top that was tucked in, and leopard print high heels, she stood out. Red lips brought attention to her mouth and the sunglasses covering her eyes made me willing to bet she was eyeing all the prospects in the room staring at her. Her smirk all but confirmed it.

“That’s her,” I let Pops know as I nodded off in her direction.

Pops turned and caught sight of Paisley and the impressed way he sat back almost made me chuckle. “Of course, it is.”

“Her package isn’t why I like her.”

“Oh?”

I tapped my temple. Paisley’s sass and wit were what I admired most about the popular DJ.

At once, Pops and I stood together to greet Paisley to the table as she made it over. An act that caused her to perk a perfectly threaded eyebrow as she removed her sunglasses.

“Aw, you’re so sweet,” she let out as she lowered herself to her side of the booth we’d been seated at.

“Chivalry is a dying commodity,” I said as Pops and I sat back down. “I gotta apologize, I forgot their brunch buffet is only on Sundays.”

Paisley shrugged. “I’ll live.” She eyed my father, her features softening as her face brightened. “Hello, Mr. Marcuson. I’m Paisley Parker.”

“Otherwise known as Paisley P.” Pops reached across the table and shook her hand. “So Eazy tells me.”

“Eazy,” Paisley repeated as she snuck me a look.

“Childhood nickname,” I said.

“You can be as grown as you want, but you’ll always be my boy,” Pops said as he grabbed his menu.

“All sorted?” our hostess, whose nametag read Leila, swooped by to inquire.

Even though Paisley had just joined us, she set her menu aside and flashed a friendly smile Leila’s way. “I’ll take a ribeye, medium-rare—I love it juicy, but add caramelized onions. Light ranch on my salad, and for my side, the beer-battered French fries.”

Pops looked to me as I faced him. “Damn.”

Paisley wasn’t fazed by our shock. “Business brings out my hunger.”

I could really like getting to know Paisley.

Snapping to, I faced Leila and handed over my menu. “I’ll take what she’s having.”

Pops shook his head. “I’ll take the Decatur catfish with cornbread dressing.”

Leila stood back and penciled in our orders. Her pink tongue creeped out of the corner of her mouth as she jotted everything down. “And to drink? What can we start y’all off with?”

“Sweet tea,” Pops echoed.

“Water,” I said.