Page 86 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

She and some woman sit at the bar, drinks in hand—no club soda tonight—and deep in conversation. Raya’s hair is curly, and her dress is hugging her in all the places I like and riding just high enough to piss me off. She looks good as fuck. Too good for somebody who rushed me off the phone and acted like she didn’t want me to know where she was.

Cool.

We’re about to see what else she’s hiding.

I take a seat in a dimly lit corner booth where I can watch without being seen.

The other chick is a little older, but she’s fine, too, in a tank top and some ripped jeans. Hair is short and platinum blonde. Sexy, Targaryen lookin ass.

My irritation deepens.

I wonder if that’s a friend. Ain’t no tellin’. I don’t even know if Rayahasfriends.

A man approaches and walks right up on my girl. He leans in and says something directly in her ear. She laughs—not in a way that says she’s interested, but in a way that tells me she likes the attention.

My jaw clenches even though he walks away empty-handed.

I’m not even jealous. I don’t get jealous. I don’t get close enough to women to care enough to get jealous. But Raya, once again, is different.

She belongs to me, so this whole display has me on notice. Of course niggas try to get at her. She’s fine as fuck. I’d be confused if they didn’t. But I expect her to conduct herself a little better than this.

It would be different if she knew I was watching.

Fuck.

I sound like Ian and Connor. Them white boys love that cuck shit. That sit-in-the-corner-and-watch-my-wife-get-fucked shit. Niggas don’t move like that, though.

And yet…

I don’t know.

If she knew I was watching, I could see her playing that shit up to piss me off. She likes me pissed off. And I kinda like being pissed off.

But this shit here is annoying.

A waiter comes by and drops a napkin on the table.

“Can I start you with a drink?”

With my eyes still locked on her, I say, “Shot of Hennessey. And you see those two sitting at the bar? One got white hair?”

I pull out my wallet while he follows my gaze.

“Whatever they order, put it on here.”

I hand him my Amex, then pick up my phone.

In the time it took for me to order a drink, she just shot down another nigga.

He seemed nice

She picks up her phone, stares at the screen, and frowns. When she pops her head up, her eyes scan her immediate area, but she doesn’t see me.

Raya

Where are you?

Don’t worry about it

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