She picked up her glass and the bottle. “If we’re gonna drink we’re gonna drink, drink.”
“Tito’s or Casamigos?” She asked.
“Mann, don’t nobody want none of that shit. That’s the shit leave a nigga fucked up the next morning.”
“Well, this is all I got, so me asking was really just a courtesy,” she said, laughing. “I’ll make you something real smooth.”
He watched her work, taking a seat on the barstool as she pulled out a shaker set.
She sat a margarita in front of him and then made one for herself.
He scratched his eyebrow with his thumb, hesitating to taste it.
“Just drink it!” She exclaimed. “Bougie-ass nigga! I know you rich! This is broke bitch libations.”
He lifted the glass, amusement living on his stern face as she studied every crevice. He was darker than dark, like the scariest hour of Halloween night. Dark like that carried mystery because you didn’t know what lived amongst its shadows. Hehad no softening features. No friendly smile, no light eyes to turn his menacing looks pretty. Day was a Black man with a black heart and black Glock to match. Fine. This nigga was just too motherfucking fine, and he wasn’t even trying.
“See! That’s how you show appreciation to the bartender!” Stassi said, pursing her lips and doing a playful hip wind in celebration because he enjoyed her drink.
He reached for the coaster and placed the glass on top of it.
Oh, so you got manners, manners,Stassi thought.
“Yo, this shit is terrible,” he said, grimacing.
She poured shots. A challenge. A dare that he wouldn’t back down from.
“To drinking our worries away.” Stassi lifted the shot, and Day raised his.
“Nah, my baby, I think it’s looking up for you,” he said.
He lifted from his seat. “I’ma head out, cuz if I stay and we keep drinking this cheap shit, we gon’ regret what happens next.”
She blushed deep down in her soul because what he didn’t know was she probably wouldn’t regret shit, but for the sake of being a lady, she answered, “Goodnight, Day.”
Charlie heard Demi come into the room, and she was grateful that her back faced the door because she didn’t feel like hashing out their differences tonight. Bails laid in the bed, right in Demi’s spot. The only time Charlie let him in their bed was when she didn’t want Demi next to her. It was how he knew when she had an attitude. She closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. Avoidance. It hurt her that they had come to the point of avoidance. She didn’t even know how this had happened.
She knew he would head directly to the shower. Demi’s OCD wouldn’t allow him to just climb in bed as she had done. Charlie had barely wiped the makeup from her face before seeking retreat between the expensive sheets. She bawled up in a fetal position as she heard the water to the shower turn on. She hated conflict, especially with him. It made her sick to her stomach to think of the disagreement waiting to be addressed.
The scent of his body wash entered the bedroom, and Charlie desperately wanted the smell to cover her too. She laid underneath that scent every night, safe, secured, loved, by a man that loved no other. Demi made her feel like a queen, but when they were at odds, she felt powerless because her strength was diminished when her heart was heavy. Demi called her “Bird” because of his appreciation for her voice, and she felt exactly like a fragile bird in his hands whenever they weren’t on the same page. When the sound of the water ceased, she tensed, knowing he was coming to bed. She hated this. The man she loved more than anything felt like a stranger. They were closer than close, best friends and lovers. God, how they were lovers, but when they were enemies, the line in the sand was wide and deep. They could be like oil and water at times. This was one of those times, and Charlie’s soul was unnerved.
“I know you ain’t sleep, Bird. That ain’t even how you breathe when you sleep,” Demi said.
She kicked off the covers in frustration and rolled her eyes as she sat up. Rouge became her at the sight of him. Demi was all man. Her man.
“Say, man,” Demi said. “Keep them pretty-ass eyes over there before I forget I ain’t fucking with you and do something to you. Got Bails big-ass in my spot,” he huffed.
“It’s late…” She was searching for an explanation because she had been up wondering where the hell he was.
“I ain’t never had a curfew, Bird,” Demi responded. He sat at the end of the bed and planted his face in his hands.
“A curfew is different than accountability,” Charlie replied. “I’ve just never felt like this with you. I don’t want to feel like this with you. Where did you go?”
“For a ride,” Demi answered. It was an easy response. He didn’t want to trigger anxiety in her. She would overthink things if he told her the truth. “To see DJ.”
Charlie’s heart sank.He went home, she thought. The silent competition she felt with Lauren was screaming at this moment.
“Oh.” The sadness he heard in that “oh” broke his heart.
