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“I’m thirty-four.”
“And proof that some black does indeed crack. Tragic.”
The hostess seated us before he could respond. Despite the way Demon and I carried on, dinner started out nice. We ordered drinks and appetizers while Dream told Kiana and me a little about the vacation she and Demon had planned. She didn’t share too, too much, and we didn’t press. With Demon’s lifestyle, the need for privacy was something we understood.
Kam was spending a couple of weeks with us, and Dream admitted she was already having separation anxiety about leaving him and her babies, who were back home with her mama and sister. Demon was even worse. He acted like he forgot that Kam was seventeen, taller than my parents, Kiana, and me, and probably more trained on handling an emergency than most of the adults I knew. Demon had already asked twice whether KiKi's security system had been serviced and reminded her that Dante and his brother-in-law Smoke were the only people she was to call if anything happened.
“He’s seventeen, Damie, not seven,” Kiana reminded him.
“And?”
“You keep wanting us to be prepared if anything happens. What’s gon’ happen?.”
Demon stared at her like he had no understanding. KiKi sighed. “Since you acting like he not half-grown, let me assure you that we know how to take care of him.”
“I know you think you do.”
Kiana’s mouth fell open. “Damie!”
Dream playfully smacked his arm. “Damien, stop messing with them. You know Kam gon’ be fine.”
“He better be.”
Ignoring the warning in his tone, I sipped my lemon-drop martini. The sweet and sour cocktail was my fave. “Why you can’t be like most parents?” I asked my paranoid cousin.
He looked almost offended as he scowled at me. “I’m not most parents.”
“Clearly,” I muttered.
“Adam couldn’t come?” Dream asked, changing the subject before Demon and I could get started again.
I shook my head regretfully. “He’s working. He’s meeting with clients tonight.”
Demon had two habits that pissed me off worse than anything about him. One was the smug little smile that made you feel stupid as hell. The other was the way he could raise one eyebrow and just look at you like you ought to be questioning your life. He raised that raggedy ass eyebrow now. “At seven on a Saturday?”
I don’t know how he could have a monotone voice but still have a tone that I didn’t like. I returned his insolent look. “He’s trying to make junior partner.”
“And that requires night work?”
“Do you know what it’s like being a young attorney?” I countered. “Yes!”
“On the weekends?” he pressed.
I sighed. “Yes, Demon.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Okay.”
I hated the way he said it, like he knew something I didn’t. “What does that mean?”
He shrugged. I wanted to slap him, but I really did value my life. “It means what I said. ‘Okay.’”
“No, it doesn’t,” I argued.
“You feeling like that, then you already know what it means,” he said calmly.
For the first time tonight, I felt the first real trickle of annoyance with him. “Damien, I swear—”
I stopped when the green eyes that matched my own tangled with mine.
