Page 103 of Sweet Little Thing

Shay stood outside with a box in one hand and a bag in the other. There was someone behind her, but I couldn’t see who. Stepping back, I unbolted the door and opened it.

“I was about to start beating on the door. What took you so long?” She said as she brushed past me and walked inside.

“Are you good with this?” Chantel watched Shay sashay in but stayed at the door. The worried frown on her forehead didn’t cause a wrinkle. Either she had amazing skin, or she had already started Botox injections.

“Doesn’t matter if she is or isn’t. I’m not leaving. I have donuts, some fancy ass macarons, and a bag full of tiny sandwiches that rich bitches eat with their tea. We’re eating all this shit, drinking Stone’s whiskey, and talking about the bastards in this world.”

I turned back to Shay, and she held up the items in her hand. “Might as well accept this. It’s happening,” she told me.

I still wasn’t hungry, but this was a good distraction. I wouldn’t be alone, and the apartment wouldn’t echo of silence.

“Come on in,” I said to Chantel as I stepped back so she couldenter.

“Chantel won’t eat the food. Does Stone have carrots and water?” Shay’s tone was sarcastic, so I didn’t respond. Instead, I caught Chantel rolling her eyes.

“I’ll take some vodka if he has that.”

“And her skinny ass will be drunk after one shot,” Shay added. “Now, when is the dumb bastard coming back?”

I didn’t have to ask who the dumb bastard was. However, I didn’t like the title bastard attached to Stone’s name. I didn’t correct her because I realized it was just how Shay spoke.

“He didn’t say. But I’m not staying around to find out.” There, I told someone. My leaving was real now and not just in my thoughts.

“Damn,” Chantel said.

Shay dropped the bag in her hand and then opened the box to pull out a donut. She held it in front of my mouth. “Open,” she commanded. For fear she’d shove it on my face if I didn’t, I opened my mouth, and she inserted it. “Now eat.”

She walked toward the living area after picking up the bag of sandwiches. “Chantel, get the alcohol,” Shay called out.

“What do you drink?” Chantel asked me.

I shook my head and took the donut out of my mouth. “I don’t want to drink.”

“I don’t care! You are drinking,” Shay replied loudly.

Chantel shrugged. “You might as well pick your poison, or she will.”

I honestly didn’t know what I wanted to drink. I wasn’t hungry. The donut in my hand didn’t interest me.

“I don’t know.” My reluctance to drink was making this harder than it had to be.

Chantel gave me a brief nod. “I’ll pick it. Sit and eat.”

I watched as she perused Stone’s bar. I couldn’t help but worry about them using his things, but they seemed at home here.Letting them inside might have been a mistake. Stone didn’t want me here, much less other people. I didn’t think it was possible to get Shay to leave, though. She was determined. The best thing I could do was drink and eat, fulfilling her request quickly so she’d leave.

Taking a bite of the donut, I followed Shay into the other room.

Chapter

Sixty-One

Beulah

Chantel walked into the room carrying bottles of Grey Goose, Makers Mark, and club soda. She sat them on the table and went back for the glasses. I stood there watching Shay open the boxes, then take out a chocolate pastry, and eat it. “Sit. Relax, bitch. Don’t stand there nervous, he’s not here. This is what he gets for running off.”

Shay sank onto the sofa and propped her feet up on the coffee table. Stone’s furniture was expensive. Sitting on it made me uncomfortable. But there was no asking her to remove her feet from the furniture—she was doing what she wanted.

When Chantel returned with glasses and ice, Shay pointed at the vodka. “Fix her something, please. She’s so uptight she can’t sit.”

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