Page 3 of Crossing Lines

“Hi, are you close? Our dinner reservation is at 8:30. I’m dressed and ready to go.”

“Shit,” he grates. “Don’t be mad. I’m still at the office. I’m working hard to bring in this client, so I’m deep in a lot of paperwork. How about a raincheck?”

Annoyance straightens me up. “Really, Jamir? It’sFriday. I haven’t seen you all week.”

He hisses. “Davia, this is my job. I’m a finance associate, remember? It gets hectic at my company.” He loves to remind me of his high-paying career.

“I’m well aware,” I grumble, running my finger along the granite surface. “It just feels like you barely have time for me anymore.”

“Don’t do that. I’m building my future. You should be understanding.”

“Idounderstand,” I hit back. “I’m building mine, too, but still make time for our relationship.”

“I’m sorry,” leaves him in a heavy breath. “We’ll hang out tomorrow, okay?”

“Fine. I lo—” He ends the call before I finish. “Ugh.”

Grabbing a vegan meal from the freezer, I jab the plastic and pop it into the microwave. A glimpse at my attire in the floor-length mirror across the way irritates me more. To hell with it. I look too damn good to let my efforts go to waste. I’ll Uber toKrossfireand make it a night out alone.

TWO

I feel immense pride while scoping out the packed club from VIP. Given my roots as the son of a pimp and a prostitute, it still marvels me how much I’ve accomplished.

“Bruh!” Cairo’s light punch on my arm confirms I’m not dreaming. “Look at this. I’m happy for you, man.”

“Thanks, bro.” We reach in for a quick hug. “Appreciate the support as always. Where’s Iree?”

“Caught up at work, but she’ll be here soon.”

“Cool.”

He perches against the railing with his drink. “Gran wanted to come through like she’s a young girl. She promises to cook your favorite on Sunday.”

“Mama G’s the best. Can’t wait.”

“Sup, fellas?” Preston cheers as he approaches with a petite cocoa baddie, his shoulder-length locs looking retwisted. “Place is popping, bro. I see you.”

“Thanks, man.” I dap him up and motion to his lady. “Who’s this?”

“My boo.” He beams at her. “Meet Ashley.”

Her smile vanishes. She whips her head back and glares at him. “It’sMoya. Who the hell is Ashley?”

“Oh shit,” Cairo coughs into his fist.

Preston tries to laugh it off. “My bad, baby. I thought you said Ashley was your middle name.”

“I don’t have a middle name!” she snaps. “You’re a damn liar. You said it was only me.”

“Youarethe only one,” he insists.

“Boy, bye.” Moya storms for the stairs with him chasing her.

“Baby, wait!”

Cairo and I burst out laughing. “I told Pres to stop playing around. He switches women so damn fast.”

“Pretty sure Ashley is a chick from last week.”

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