Pretentious and misguided lawyer Leila discovers a new passion in her job when she is assigned to defend a sixteen-year-old boy for murder against the state. Unfortunately, what she presumes to be an open-shut case is more complex. The hottest rappe...
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The music thumped through the packed room, but even amidst the chaos of the exclusive party, I heard it. A low rumble, almost imperceptible, brought a grin to my face. Leila was standing next to me, her cheeks flushed from embarrassment as she clutched her champagne flute.
"Yo, is that your stomach?" I asked, leaning closer to her so she could hear me over the pulsating bass.
"Maybe," she mumbled, looking away sheepishly. "I haven't eaten since that sad salad at my desk earlier."
"Come on, let's go find you something better than wilted lettuce," I suggested, offering her my arm. She hesitated for a moment, then linked her arm with mine, her eyes shining with gratitude.
As we left the party behind, the cool night air enveloped us. I guided Leila to my car, unlocking the door with a subtle click. We slid into the leather seats, and I started the engine, letting the purr of power fill the silence between us.
"Where are we going?" Leila asked curiously as she scanned my face. Her black irises seemed brighter in the night, almost as if they glowed in the dark. A wayward curl danced on her forehead, and I resisted the urge to place it neatly back into place.
"There's a diner not too far from your spot. Trust me, it's legit'," I replied, shifting gears and pulling onto the empty streets.
Soon, the diner's neon sign came into view, casting an inviting glow over the quiet street. As we entered, the waitress greeted me with a warm smile. "Kaanon, is that really you? It's been ages!"
"Hey, Brenda," I acknowledged with a nod. "Yeah, it's been a while."
"Before he was famous," Brenda winked at Leila, "he used to come in here all the time."
"Really?" Leila looked at me, her eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Yep," I admitted, a little sheepishly. "This place was like a second home to me."
We slid into a booth by the window, and Brenda handed us menus. I ordered ginger ale with a burger and fries while Leila studied the menu, her eyes lighting up when she found what she wanted.
"I'll have the pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon, please," Leila said, handing her menu back to Brenda.
I raised my brow with surprise. She defended herself playfully. "Breakfast for dinner is always a treat."
"Can't argue with that," I agreed, amused by her enthusiasm.
Leila laughed, and I found myself captivated by the sound. I knew, without a doubt, that I wanted to hear it again and again. Leila found that loose curl and twirled it masterfully around her finger before tucking it back into place. Her skin had a gold glisten, and shimmered as she shuffled in her seat. A slow smile broke out on her face, "What is it? Do I have something on my face?" as she began reaching for her purse. "Nah, nah, I was just thinking how nice your hair looks, that's all ma."
