This is my first book, guys. Thoughts and opinions are always valued. Pardon any typos and errors, please. Eventually, I'll take this book down for a rewrite.
Started: Monday, 23rd September 2019.
"No offence, but why the heck are you around here on a Tuesday afternoon?" Mikey, the grouch of a bartender questioned, placing another glass of brightly coloured cocktail in front of me. I stared at the drink, trying to gather my thoughts and sum it all up in a reply. I couldn't. He was right, normal people were usually at work on Tuesday afternoons, so why was I here?
Maybe because you lost your job last week because you couldn't keep your big mouth shut.
Or the fact that your idiot of a best friend told you to come meet up with him, and decided to show up late for reasons best known to him.
I winced at the thought of Lance actually ditching me here after he had arranged this whole meeting as I picked the glass, fiddling with the edge and dipped my pinky into the drink, enjoying the cooling effect.
"I'm waiting for Lance?"
"Are you asking me?" Mikey threw me a look then shuffled off to attend to the other customers. He knew better than to engage me in a conversation he most likely didn't want to know about. I had been hanging around bars, drinking since my sack last week, I really needed to get something else doing.
I brought out my phone, intending to dial Lance for what felt like the tenth time today to remind him I was still here, waiting on him. He picked up on the first ring.
"I don't know why you've had me wait here all afternoon if you were going to just stand me up," I accused, annoyed with both myself and him. "I'm leaving now, if you want to see me, you know my place --"
"Look up," he said softly, cutting my sentence short and I obeyed reflexively to spot him waving at me from across the bar with the phone still to his ear. He stood here, all six feet three of Korean awesomeness with eyes twinkling bright behind his glasses.
My best friend in the entire world.
He walked over slowly, taking the high stool next to me with a slow, resigned sigh. "I know you're probably furious right now --"
"You think?" I placed the straw from the drink into my mouth, sucking slowly and deliberately. The sharp taste of the alcohol spiked drink combined with it's fruity taste made me give an involuntary moan as I watched my friend warily from the corner of my eye. He looked strangely happy. "Why do you look so cheery?"
"Not everyone's life is in shambles, Rina," he replied smoothly, sliding over my drink and helping himself. "Plus that's why I'm late, you'll never guess what happened to me."
I supported my chin with my palm. "I probably can," I told him dryly.
"Well, I'm going to tell you anyways. Remember that Ghanian girl I was screwing like two months ago?"
"Imani?"
I particularly remembered this particular girl out of his numerous playthings because she had stunning, dark black skin and big doe eyes that were just hard to forget. She also called my name funny too. I liked her while she lasted.
"I don't really care what her name is," he brushed off, evidently wanting to continue his story without disturbance. "She called me last night and told me to come over and who was I to decline pussy when it was offering itself?"
"And?"
"Well, I was there till this morning and then there's this sudden knocking while I was in her for a quick one before leaving --"
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The Artist's Wife (BWWM)
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