Bella’s phone was ringing as she entered her small house in the South Shore neighborhood. She had a nice size bedroom and two small guestrooms, one of which she used as a closet slash dressing room. Her kitchen was just big enough for a woman who barely cooked, but she had a large deck in the back. But, to Bella, the best thing about her house was that it was walking distance from the beach. Bella loved living near the water. Every morning, she made it a point to go for either a run or a walk on the beach.
After fishing the phone out of her pocket, Bella swiped to answer. It was Taylor.
“Hey, Taylor, what’s up?”
“Girl…” Taylor sighed.
Bella’s antennas rose instantly.
“What’s going on?” Bella asked her friend.
“Can you drop by the penthouse tomorrow afternoon? I can explain then.”
“Yeah, but is everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m cool, I guess. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Taylor seemed upset, but she didn’t seem to be in a panic. So, Bella agreed to meet up with her the next day and ended the call. She tossed her phone on the cocktail table and went into the kitchen. After pouring herself a glass of wine, Bella washed the dishes that she’d left in the sink the night before. Then she shook her head, thinking that surely, she would be a better housekeeper if she didn’t work so many hours a day.
After cleaning the kitchen, Bella grabbed a glass, the bottle of wine, and headed toward her bedroom. She hadn’t gotten one foot across the threshold to her peaceful place when she heard the lock to her back-door turn. Bella paused for a few seconds, but she wasn’t concerned. She knew exactly who was entering her house. She sat the bottle and glass on an end table, next to her recliner.
“Hey, Bella doll!” Dean shouted from the hallway.
“Hey, bae. I’m in the bedroom!”
Bella kicked off her shoes and plopped down on the recliner. The chair was her favorite spot in her house. She grabbed the remote and turned the television on just as Dean poked his handsome, smiling face through the doorway.
Dean was Bella’s ex-husband. But the end of their marriage hadn’t ruined their relationship. They were still friends. As a matter of fact, Dean was like herbestfriend.
“I fixed the brakes on your Chevelle.”
“My hero,” Bella beamed.
Her jet black 1970 Chevelle was her baby.
Dean stepped into the bedroom and walked over to the bed. He turned to sit, but Bella stopped him with a grunt.
“Don’t you get on my bed in them street clothes,” she warned.
Dean stood upright and lifted an eyebrow at Bella. “Das how you gonna treat me after I labored under your vehicle for hours?”
“Go get a glass,” she urged, ignoring him and gesturing toward the bottle of wine.
As Dean exited the bedroom, Bella took notice of his extremely good looks. That was one thing about him that remained constant. Bella’s ex was a tall, bronze Adonis with long African locks. His muscular body was covered with tattoos, giving him the appearance of a dude with hood credibility that he didn’t have. Dean was a lawyer. Granted, he was no punk, but he didn’t have a thuggish bone in his body.
Bella filled her glass with wine, knocked it back, and then refilled it. She took a sip from the glass and placed it on the end table. Dean entered the room and held his glass out to Bella.
“How was dinner?” he asked as she poured.
“My mom made Hunter’s Stew and fried, green tomatoes.”
“Mm-mm…and you didn’t bring me any?” Dean complained.
“How was I supposed to know you were gonna be here?”
Dean narrowed his eyes and took a sip of the red wine. “You should have guessed.”
“They asked about you.”
