Page 89 of Truce Of The Matter

“Truce, I’m twenty-one, in college, I drink,” she says while smirking. “Been drinking before then,” she adds, uttering under her breath but we catch it.

“I guess,” Truce sighs but then smiles.

“I have silver.”

“Perfect. Just a shot.”

“And you drink it straight,” Truce says, clearly surprised that Daija drinks.

“Can you make my strawberry drink, Daddy?” Aryel asks.

“What’s your drink?” Daija asks, amused.

“I don’t know the name.”

“A virgin strawberry daiquiri,” I answer before standing.

I trek to the bar and fix all three drinks. I even put Aryel’s in a wine glass and top it off with whipped cream. As soon as I return with the drinks, Daija takes her shot to the dome and Truce is in shock the whole time.

The chefs return with our second course, callaloo and toasted pieces of coco bread. I’ve never had this before but it’s really good. It reminds me of mustard greens with a lot of flavor. Diablo’s is known for the best steaks in town and the main course lives up to the hype.

“Our third and main course is a chargrilled Caribbean ribeye with coconut rice and a grilled pineapple salad,” Chef Porsha announces as her assistants place the delicious smelling plates on the table. “If you would like tableside cutting, please let us know.”

“Can you cut mine please?” Aryel asks and the server standing behind her gladly cuts her steak.

While cutting into her steak, Truce says, “I’m not going to make it to dessert if I eat all of this.”

“I will. I’m going to kill this and dessert. I’ve missed good food. Don’t get me wrong, there are some good spots in Atlanta, but a lot of places are just overhyped. You go for the vibe not the food. Plus, I just missed the food here.”

“There’s nothing like hometown food,” Truce says.

“Especially your cooking, beautiful,” I add. Not only can Truce throw down in the kitchen, she actually loves to do it. She legit loves to cook for the people she loves.

“Yes, I like cooking with you,” Aryel says.

“And you are a good cook too. I’m going to teach Daija to cook some dishes this summer so she can take some of Crescent Falls back with her to Atlanta.”

“You don’t know how to cook?” Aryel asks Daija.

“No. Wait… I can cook pancakes, tacos, and spaghetti, but that’s it. I’m a gourmet orderer though. Give me an hour and I can get anything I want to eat delivered,” Daija says while grinning.

Everything is going so good and Truce has a permanent smile on her pretty face. Our light conversation continues as we enjoy our steaks and it carries into our final course, a Jamaican mocha rum cake with a rum-infused Cool Whip and sliced strawberries. While we eat our dessert, Chef Porsha and her team clean and pack up, leaving the extras neatly packaged on the kitchenisland. When they return to the room, we thank them and Aryel actually applauds them.

Daija stands and walks out with her friend and Aryel runs upstairs to use the bathroom. There are two bathrooms downstairs but for some reason, she only uses hers. So no matter where she is in the house, she will go to her room when she has to go.

“It’s going good, right?” Truce asks, slight nervousness in her tone.

“It’s better than good, beautiful. You worried for nothing. The food was good and that shot loosened Daija up,” I say, intentionally picking at her.

“And she downed it fast. I didn’t know she drank.”

“A college student in Atlanta, away from home? Of course, she drinks.”

“I guess you’re right but I just didn’t know. I have to remember she has a whole ass life in Atlanta.”

“A whole adult life but she seems to have her shit together.”

“Cause she does,” she says proudly.

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