Za stands to order and both of them follow her like loyal puppies.
Jabari watches, unimpressed.
“They’re embarrassing,” he mutters.
I sip my drink. “Your friends?”
“Our friends,” he corrects automatically.
I glance at him. “Oh, we’re sharing custody now?”
He bumps my knee under the table. “Yeah. You’re stuck with them unfortunately.”
“Lucky me.”
At the bar, Sol leans in too close while Amin tries to casually flex his forearms like that’s subtle. Za laughs at something oneof them says and tosses her head back, the sound carrying across the room.
Sol and Amin start mock fighting over who gets to stand closest to her.
“Back up,” Sol says. “She clocked me first.”
“Relax,” Amin retorts. “She made eye contact with me.”
“You’re delusional.”
They shove each other lightly, laughing.
But Za already left them both. She takes off for the D.J. booth and a few moments later, the music shifts suddenly andThe Winner Takes It Allblasts through the speakers.
She climbs onto the small platform near the jukebox like she’s done before and grabs a mic and belts the first line with full theatre projection.
Half the pub cheers. The other half films.
Jabari leans back in his chair, watching the chaos.
“Good or bad?” he asks.
I shrug and use my hands to gesture me weighing the decision. “Fifty, fifty. It’s a sad song but she likes practising her belts.”
“She’s going to tour and terrorise the entire country,” he says.
“As she should,” I reply.
Za hits the chorus, dramatic hand to chest, eyes closed like she’s at the West End.
The pub sings along badly.
Sol tries to harmonise and fails while Amin starts waving a napkin like a lighter.
I lean toward Jabari.
“Za has the opportunity to do the funniest thing in the world with your mates, by the way.”
He raises a brow. “Which is?”
I laugh. “I’ll let you figure it out big man.”
On stage, Za finishes the song with a theatrical spin.
