Page 23 of Mister President

When she stood, I cursed under my breath. Her body was natural and curvy as hell. Elias looked her frame over as he licked his lips, and I couldn’t even blame him. I was confident in who I was, what I had to offer, and how I looked, so it never fazed me when a man looked at and appreciated another woman’s beauty. We all were different, but there wasn’t a woman on this earth that would make me feel she was better than me.

“You look beautiful, Mandy. Damn. You looking for baby daddy number two tonight?”

With a low chuckle, Amanda scooted her chair more to the right, and her girls did the same, allowing space for us to pull the two empty chairs back and sit down.

“I might be,” she answered, shooting a wink my way that somehow made me comfortable with their exchange.

“I’m about to grab some drinks,” Elias said against my ear. “What do you want? Wine?”

“Oh no, babe. Whiskey. Jameson if they have it.”

He chuckled and stood. “Forgot you were half Irish. I got you.”

His hand gripped my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. I liked that he was affectionate toward me in front of these women. It was clear Amanda was an ex. Though I had no details on how deep their bond went yet, the signs were there.

“So…how long have you and E been dating?” Tamar asked.

“That’s not our business,” Amanda said, offering me a warm smile.

“It’s fine,” I answered. “We’ve known each other platonically for years, but this is our first date.”

“Aww, that’s cute,” Felicity replied. There was something about her that was familiar.

“I’m sorry, but you have a very familiar face. Are we friends on social media or something?”

Felicity’s smile mirrored Amanda’s, giving me the chance to see how similar their features were. She called Elias cuz. Was that because she was Amanda’s cousin, and they were married at one point?

“Probably not, but you may be familiar with me because I founded a social club here. We have dinners biweekly for women of color across the city.”

“Yes, that’s it!” I beamed. “The waiting period to join is insane, which shows how amazing of a club it is. I think the last time I checked, it was two years out. I wouldn’t have been able to join anyway because I’m under thirty-three.”

“I appreciate that so much,” Felicity said sincerely, gripping my hand on top of the table. “I’ve gotten lots of queries about lowering the age requirement, and I won’t, but I have been considering starting a second club for women in their twenties.”

“I don’t blame you for keeping them separate. I’m sure it makes for easier bonds and conversations dining with women similar to your age.”

“A lot of times,” Tamar said.

“Sometimes the age closeness means less in comparison to life experiences,” Amanda added. “But cuzzo does a great job keeping us in line and ensuring we all have a good, safe time.”

“Aight, Fi,” Elias said, setting a green tea shot and a second shot of just whiskey in front of me. After setting a brown shot ofsomething where he sat, he went back to the bar and returned with three drinks for the other ladies. They all cooed at his gesture, and I thought it was cute too. Tamar and Felicity had strawberry lemon drops, but it appeared Amanda was a tequila sipping girl. He’d gotten her two fingers of Clase Azul along with a tequila Collins.

We sipped our drinks for a while before our table was ready. Before we left, Elias told them he put their drinks on his tab and to get whatever they liked before closing it out. We said our goodbyes then headed to the restaurant on the elevator. His demeanor was relaxed and chill. When our eyes locked, he gave me a sexy smile and wink before tugging me closer by my hand.

“You good?” he checked as the elevator dinged, signaling we’d made it to the second floor.

“I’m great. Are you?”

Elias chuckled with a nod. “Yeah, I am. That started a little awkward for me, but it worked out.”

As we made our way toward the hostess, he held my hand. Elias let her know what name our reservation was under, and she led us to a table by the window, giving us a decent view of the ocean.

“Do you know what’s above us?” I asked as he pulled my seat out.

“The third level is for private parties,” the hostess replied, setting our menus down. “And above that is the rooftop bar. You can go up there freely when it’s open. Only the third floor is locked.”

“Thank you,” I replied, picking up my menu.

She let us know our waiter would be over soon before leaving.

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