I hold my breath. I figured it could be a possibility, but I didn’t bank on it. I breathe out. I have a moment, at least, to mentally prepare.
Zea squeals and claps. “Yes! I get to watch you make a fool of yourself!”
Drummond laughs and daps up Zea.
What’s happening here?
“Let’s get you fed,” I tell Zea, grabbing her hand.
“Like the baby that I am!”
Drummond laughs. “I like this girl. She reminds me of Porsche.”
“Is Porsche fabulous?” Zea asks.
Drummond shows her his phone lockscreen. She does that finger tapping thing, purses her lips, and nods. “With a capital F. Compliment accepted!”
“Come on,” I tell her and we start walking towards the food.
“Are Porsche and Lily friends?”
“Yeah. There’s another friend named Charisse. They’re both married to the Martin family.”
“Married to billionaires, and Lily’s stuck dealing with you.”
I stop walking. “Hey!”
She shrugs. “What? Her friends are around rich rich men. You’re rich, but not Beyonce and Jay-Z rich. But she gave you a chance when they could’ve hooked her up with anyone else.”
She gives me the stink face. “And you fucked it up.”
I close my eyes. “Stop cussing.”
“Don’t focus on my words. Focus on my point, Giant Bro.”
I hate when this girl is right. Her ass is always right.
“I’m working on it.”
She pulls me to the line for the ribs food truck. Of course, it’s the longest line.
“Working, as in the physical labor at her events? Do y'all even talk on the phone? Text? Snapchat? Facetime?”
She stands with her hands on her hips like someone’s mama.
“I don’t have Facetime. I hate those fruit phones.”
“Sir.”
I laugh. “No, we don’t. I’m taking it slow.”
“Well, you aren’t getting anywhere at this pace.”
That’s not true.
“We’ve been out on a few dates.”
“You. Aren’t. Talking.” She claps between each word.
