BAYOU

the estate (pt. 2)

"Oh my god." His jaw dropped. "Look at these melons." Angel tugged on the shoulder strap of her vintage Dolce & Gabbanna dress, animating her cleavage as much as possible.

He'd finally shown up to Luke's estate after the sunset. With close speculation, he examined the house, making comments about how vast and empty the space was as if he were a realtor, staring from her eyes to her décolletage the whole time she informed him about the mysterious second phone, and when it was his time to speak, that was the first thing he'd said. Look at those melons.

Sugarplum swatted his hands away fiercely and fixed herself from spilling out the front of her dress. "Hating you with a passion right now."

"I'm sorry, that was rude. They're just... staring at me." He marveled. "How did you manage to smuggle a set of perky, natural, C-cups passed me? I always knew you had an ass," he stood beside her to admire her silhouette. "but the rack to match? You're perfect."

"The phones, Angel. What do you think about the phones?"

"You're all about business, I see. Kinda threw me for a loop considering the discussion we just had not too long ago. Trying to forget how I made you feel?"

She ignored him. "I hate repeating myself."

"Okay, I'll bite. Sugarplum, my dearest, grandest unrequited love. You know any reason why he'd have a second phone? Is it work-related?"

"I don't know...He didn't have to work because of his family's inheritance but he insisted. I never knew what it was...realizing I never knew much about him at all." She ran a hand through her hair. "The day of, before it all happened, Before I-,"

"Snapped."

"Yes. He was headed on a business trip to Florida."

"Business... in Florida... what part?"

"Miami, maybe."

"Miami, Florida. With the baddies and the booch. That doesn't sound suspicious to you?"

"Hearing it back, of course it sounds crazy. But I couldn't give a damn at the time, Angel. You have to understand I just wanted him far, far away..."

"I know, I know. We'll just have to look at the facts, Miami trip with a friend named K2. The fuck kinda secret agent shit is he on?" He scrunched his forehead. "You sure you don't know the passcode to his phone, sugar pot? Did you try his birthday?"

She crossed her arms, a sullen expression on her face.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I literally can't remember it."

"You've been with this man for years and you can't remember his birthday? Are you serious?"

"Can you not make me feel like shit?" She stomped her heel in frustration as if she were just realizing how tipsy she was, holding on to Angel's shoulder to stop the earth from moving. He pulled her closer.

"In the morning...when you're sober..." he looked at her pointedly, "we'll have this conversation again. The last thing I wanna do is upset you and no, it's not because I have a big ass crush on you or anything but because I genuinely fear for my life when we're together."

She sucked her teeth. "That's not funny," Sugarplum pushed at his shoulder and Angel staggered dramatically as if her strength nearly knocked him down.

"Please don't hurt me," he cowered.

"You think everything is a joke. If I started crying you'd feel like shit, though."

"No. If you started crying, I'd hold you close, all nice and tight. Then I'd look over your shoulder to admire the curve of your spine from that angle." She shook her head. He shrugged in response, "You probably need me to hold you up anyway. Since you're all...unsteady."