Page 39 of When I Thug You Like That

But at least my balls was empty. Shit, I had to get a win somewhere.

CHAPTER 6

Ain’t No Doubling Back

JAI’ANA

Iexpected to wake up with a headache after finishing off the bottle of wine at the distillery and staying up half the night with Taina. Surprisingly, I woke up feeling well rested. And that wasn’t the only surprise. By the smell permeating through the house, Taina had taken the liberty of ordering breakfast. I loved that for me because my appetite after a night of drinking was always on 100. Plugging my dead phone into the charger, I set it on the nightstand and got up to brush my teeth and wash my face.

I loved that whenever I spent the night over at Taina’s place, I never had to worry about packing a bag. Her guest room might as well have been my own bedroom because I was the only one who ever slept in it. I kept a few outfits in the closet, and the bathroom was stocked with all of my necessities. It was the same for her and Chuston at my place. With a clean face and minty breath, I felt refreshed. Making my way out to the kitchen, I stopped short, seeing Taina moving around at the stove.

“Ummm, it smells like seasoning in here. May I ask what you’re doing at the stove, friend?”

Taina looked over her shoulder while stirring something in a pot. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

“Morning. What you doing?” I repeated, walking slowly in her direction.

“Girl, I know you see me stirring. I’m cooking.”

My brows curled up. “Cooking what? For who?”

“Us, heffa. I’m making shrimp and grits. The shrimp is ready, and the grits are almost done.”

I watched as she turned to her phone that was propped up on a stand.

“Wait, you watching a TikTok video?”

“Yeah. Bitch, fix your face. This shit ‘bout to be good. I followed the recipe step by step.” Turning off the stove, she took the grits off the burner and put the top on them.

I peeked over at the shrimp on the counter, and they did look good. Pink, plump, and well-seasoned.

“Uh huh. Ya mouth salivating. Come check out the grits.” Stepping back from the stove, she crossed her arms like she’d just made a Michelin star meal. “Yeah, that’s shrimp and grits, Black people on the search, just in case you need that, stink.”

“Oh, so I’m supposed to trust you and...” I looked down at her phone, “@lookbackatitboo2034 with my digestive system?”

“Yep. You see the ass and arms on that lady? Oh, and look at her pots. They a lil’ burnt at the bottom. My girl gets down in the kitchen. Stop playin’. Go sit down and I’ma bring you your plate and a likkle mimosa.”

“You do know we just stopped drinking, right?”

“Girl, that was last night. Past tense.”

“That was four hours ago, which is technically still this morning.”

“Fine. I’ll make you one mimosa, and I’ll have two. Dang, you so uptight.”

Laughing, I did as she instructed and took a seat at the island. “How long you been up?”

“For about an hour. I forgot to turn my alarm off.”

I watched her move around the kitchen with more confidence than I’d ever seen her possess around a stove. That TikTok video had her feeling it. She spooned grits onto two plates, topped them with shrimp, and sprinkled what looked like parsley on top for garnish. When she opened the oven and pulled out a tray of biscuits, I sat back in the chair.

“Oh, you done made biscuits too?”

“Honey butter,” she said confidently, pulling off her oven mitts and tossing them aside.

“Ahh shit, from scratch?”

She handed me my plate and a fork. “Nah. This a collab with Pillsbury. They did the biscuit; I did the rest.”