The other patrons weren’t even bothering to hide their interest now. Even the waitstaff had stopped what they were doing. All eyes were on them, but Samiah was too incensed to care about the scene they were causing.
“I don’t know how many other women fell for it, but it’s over.” She jabbed her finger against his chest. “Lose my number. If you try to contact me again, I’m calling the police.”
“Same goes for me,” London said as she pulled Craig’s chair to the side of the table to get closer to Taylor’s sushi roll. Taylor passed her a new pair of chopsticks from the container in the center of the table and slid the soy sauce closer.
“The number I gave you was a fake, so I don’t have to worry about hearing from you again,” Taylor said. She tossed her napkin on the table and joined Samiah. Folding her arms across her chest, she said, “Make sure you fill up your Benz before you return it to the car rental place. They charge an arm and a leg if you bring it back on empty.”
His eyes widened. “How’d you know?”
Samiah had to refrain from punching him in the gut. “You’re pathetic,” she spat.
“Can I get a to-go box?” London called. “Also, add another volcano roll to the order. He’ll pay for it. His cheap ass still owes me from our last date.”
“Oh, let me guess,” Samiah said. “He forgot his wallet at work?”
“And the Apple Pay on his phone was acting up,” London said with a nod. “He isn’t very creative, is he?”
Two women at a nearby table laughed out loud. One of them held up a phone to snap a picture.
Great.
Samiah turned back to Craig. “You are a horrible person, and your jokes are corny. I wish nothing but the worst for you.”
A waiter arrived with a black paper bag and handed it to London. She stood and motioned for Samiah and Taylor to walk ahead of her.
“Don’t I get a chance to explain?” Craig called.
“No!” the three women said in unison as they marched out of the restaurant without a backward glance.
Chapter Two
Samiah squinted against the sunlight slicing across her face through her living room’s floor-to-ceiling windows. Grimacing, she expended a supreme amount of effort to open her left eye. She quickly shut it. A dull thud repeatedly beat against the back of her skull, reverberating around her brain like a Ping-Pong ball in slow motion.
“Is there coffee?” a strange voice croaked. “Please tell me there’s coffee.”
Samiah bolted upright and twisted around on the sofa. London Kelley stood next to the eight-foot soapstone island that separated her kitchen from the living room. Make thatDoctorLondon Kelley, as Samiah had discovered last night.
“I’ll take kombucha if you have any,” came a muffled voice from somewhere underneath the mound of pillows on the living room floor. Taylor Powell moaned before leveling herself up on her elbows. “You see this headache right here? This is why I don’t drink alcohol.” She straightened. “I gotta pee,” she said before scrambling up from the floor and racing toward the bathroom.
Exhausted and hungover, Samiah still had the presence of mind to acknowledge that she should be concerned about waking up to find two strangers in her home. Strangers who were now familiar enough with her home to utilize the kitchen and bathroom without her help or permission.
Yet in the few short hours since she’d met them, Taylor and London no longer felt like strangers. Being conned by the same lowlife accelerated the sisterhood-development process.
Samiah placed her bare feet on the cool hardwood floors and rested her elbows on her thighs, covering her face with her hands. She still wore her jeans from last night, but at some point had changed into her favorite blue-and-gray Rice University T-shirt.
“Hey, chica? Coffee?” London called again.
“There are coffee pods in the cabinet above the Keurig.” She turned to Taylor, who had just resumed her spot on the floor. “Sorry, no kombucha. I’ve seen it, but I’m too chicken to try it.”
“Chicken? After the way you went after Craig last night? Woman, there is nothing chicken about you. You are badass.”
Samiah grimaced. She didn’t want to hear the name Craig ever again. She’d cloaked herself in fury and indignation last night, but in the light of day his treacherous deception cut through her like a switchblade. How could she have been foolish enough to trust him? Why hadn’t she seen through his lies?
“Did he try calling either of you last night?” London asked.
Samiah reached for her phone and checked the screen. Other than a couple of missed calls from her sister and an exorbitant number of Facebook notifications, her phone was clear. She would call Denise later. She didn’t know when she would look at Facebook.
“I guess he heeded my warning,” Samiah said. “He didn’t try to contact me at all.”
