Page 22 of Save Room for Us

COUPLE DAYS LATER…

I wasdue to go in to my new job in a couple days, so I decided to take myself out to have a drink and possibly a meal if my appetite showed up.

Not wanting to be bothered, I ended up at the Compton Boys’ diner, knowing it was very secluded and so much so that you couldn’t even peek inside due to the way the trees, branches, and vines were placed. It was the perfect haven for people who didn’t want to be bothered.

“Do you have a reservation?” a woman standing right inside of the entrance asked me.

I wanted to get into the back lounge area, and judging by the snooty look on this bitch’s face, I could surmise that a reservation was needed.

“Oh, no, I don’t have one.”

“Well, I’m sorry. The lounge room is fully booked as well as the diner.”

Damn.

“Okay, thank you.” I smiled at her, and she shot a fake one back before focusing down on her phone.

“Anastazia.” A deep voice sounded off behind me, and it was one I was all too familiar with now.

“Hey.” I turned to see Asif shutting the door to his Maserati and strolling over.

He looked so good—hair freshly twisted, clothes looking like they came straight from the cleaners—and his cologne had already danced its way over to me as he swaggered my way.

“What you doing here? You following me?” He smirked cutely.

“No. As you can see, I was here first, but don’t worry. I will be leaving.”

“Why?” His lids lowered, tongue dragging across his supple bottom lip as he took me in.

“I don’t have a reservation,” I admitted.

Not saying a word, Asif placed his hand on the small of my back to guide me in, and my stomach began to do an impression of Simone Biles as he led me back to the entrance. I felt frozen, not wanting to make any sudden moves with his hand on me like this. I couldn’t help but to sneak peeks at the way his tatted arms looked in the short-sleeved Louis Vuitton polo style shirt.

“She don’t need a reservation,” he told the woman plainly, no introduction or anything.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was associated with the family.” She damn near panicked. “I’m so sorry, Mr. St. Thomas, and I would appreciate it if we kept this from Mr. Compton.” She giggled nervously, referring to Shakur.

Ignoring her, Asif gave me a sexy simper and gestured for me to go inside.

“Thank you.” I slipped past him to see the place was live with people dancing, eating, talking, and just having a good time as “You” by Lucy Pearl bumped throughout.

I hated that I was wondering where Asif was going and why he was taking so long to come inside. Shaking those thoughts from my mind, I took a step toward the bar but felt a much softer hand touch my arm.

“Hi, sorry. We have a table for you right over this way when you’re ready.” The same woman who was at the front moments ago, denying me entry, was grinning like a Cheshire Cat now. It was crazy how different she was now that she knew I was somewhat connected to the owners.

“Great, thanks.” I half smiled then continued on.

I went to order my drinks and then took a seat in the plush private booth. It wasn’t long before a waitress came over to take my order whilst also delivering my Sidecar cocktail. I, of course, went for the Presley’s Porkchop dish and took a large sip as the waiter walked off.

I made sure to pump enough milk to last Sophie all week, which was easier now that she was older, since she only drank breast milk sparingly.

“How you doing tonight, baby?” A baritone interrupted me reading an article on my phone.

I looked up to see a man with curly hair, light skin, minimal facial hair, and a bright gold watch. He was cute, but not as cute as he thought he was. I could tell he was used to getting women whenever he pleased, but I wasn’t going to be one of them.

“I’m fine.” I nodded, taking another sip.

“What you drinking on? I wanna pay ya tab.” He sat down.

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