“Frankie, you order,” Zaza says, ignoring my request. “I want Mike’s.”
“No,” Frankie snaps.
“Still?”
“Yes.”
“I could order,” Za offers.
“Our address,” Frankie reminds her.
“Fuck, you’re right.”
More secret language and shady glances being passed back and forth and I’m sick of it.
“Somebody order something!” I bark.
They both turn. “Alright!”
Za holds up a hand. “Just give us a minute. We’re tryna figure something out.”
“What?”
Silence. More exchanging of looks before Frankie sighs.
“Okay, so…” Za starts. “The delivery driver and Frankie have history.”
Huh?
She continues, “Usually she orders ’cause we get it for free. But he’s upset with her at the moment.”
I blink. “What’d you do?”
Frankie’s eyes cut to me. “None of your business.”
“Why are you fucking a delivery man anyway?”
“Oh my God.Nobodysaid we fucked.”
I scoff. “But youdidfuck.”
“And if I did?”
“Then you’re desperate.”
“Desperate?!” She gets in my face. Well, she gets in my chest and looks up at my face. “You don’t know me from a can of paint or a bucket of wata. How the fuck yuh get aff callin’ me desperate?”
“I don’t need to know you to know you don’t need to be messing ‘round with delivery boys. Are you alright?”
“Jabari,” Zaza pipes up. “It’s not your place.”
“In a bit, Za.” Frankie holds a finger up to her while looking at me. “Alright then. Go on. You tell me what I need.”
Gladly.
“For starters,” I bend a bit so I’m actually in her face. “You need someone in your pay grade or higher, so you don’t keep them around to feed your superiority complex.”
“Oh!I’mthe one with the superiority complex?”
