“Oh. You want me on your arm to make you look good?” My question skipped out on a laugh.
“Better. My dad is... Why does the reason matter? You’re going to do it, or you’re not.”
“Why are you askingme? You don’t know me.”
“You owe me.”
My head jerked back. “No, I don’t. What do I get out of this arrangement?”
“What do you want?”
The question felt like someone gave me access to winning lottery numbers. When Neptune slipped up and mentioned his father, I knew his request wasn’t as simple as he made it sound. I could always use more coins, but I didn’t need them. A new bag would be cute, but I could buy that for myself. Neptune could be an asset, one that I couldn’t limit to materialistic gain.
“I want you to train me,” I answered after some thought. “I heard you’re a businessman who isn’t afraid of getting your hands dirty. I want to beonthat type of time.”
Neptune sat still, staring at me through low lids. “I don’t know about that.”
“Why not?” I whined.
He wagged his finger in my direction. “That right there. You’re whinin’, but you want to do business underground?”
“I want to be able to do what you do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“All right. Maybe not to the same extent, but you know what my family does, and for whatever reason, they don’t think I’m built to handle it.”
“Then why are you pressing the issue? You shouldn’t want to be in a room you weren’t invited into.”
My head fell to the right. “If I had my shit together, they’d lay out the red carpet. Are you going to help me or not?”
“How old are you?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Twenty-seven.”
“Where did you get the meds from that you shot into my bloodstream?”
The rapid questions infused my backbone with steel. “Why does it matter? This feels like a damn interrogation instead of a proposal.”
“What did you expect? I know you didn’t think shit was sweet after the flawed shit you did.”
“You say that after asking me to be your fake girlfriend?” I sipped from my glass as if I wasn’t already feeling the liquor catching up to me. “I guess that means you don’t have a bitch I have to tie to a chair.”
“You think you’re fucking funny?”
My shoulders crowded around my ears. “Sometimes.”
“You keep thinking shit sweet, I’m gon’ put salt in your game.”
I sucked my teeth. “Not when you’re asking me for a favor. I thought dinner was a peace offering. I didn’t ask for all the extra stuff.”
“I didn’t ask to be stabbed in the neck with a needle.”
I thought to mention he already let a tattoo artist put a needle in the same spot, but I figured it was bad timing.
Our tense interaction eased into a comfortable silence while we ate. The tequila had me warm and loose, and the meal was fulfilling. Butterflies danced in my belly every time I took a bite of food, and I recalled how Neptune arranged the meal because he knew I would like it. A few times, my eyes left my plate, and I saw he was watching me. I wanted to ignore him, but the way Neptune’s eyes traced my skin made me wonder.
“Why are you staring at me?”
