Page 71 of Mafia Kings & Wedding Rings
I reached for the handle to my door, but it was already being pulled open, and Staten waited on the other side.
“Thank you.” I smiled and got out while shoving my phone back into my purse draped across my chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever been here. I saw the sign on the drive though.”
We reached the door, and Staten reached to open it for me. Immediately, fried chicken, greens, and other soul food aromas hit us in the face. The tables were filled with people from all different age groups. An older couple shared a booth while a group of four college age-looking students laughed and joked around. In the middle there was a family of four who looked like they might have just been passing through on a road trip.One of the kids was half sleep with her head down on the table, clutching a small, beat-up stuffed rabbit.
I decided immediately that today was going to be a cheat day since I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Taking care of an entire household for sure had its challenges. Laundry had piled up, and we were working on getting the kids’ rooms organized. The kitchen was only spotless after breakfast. Throughout the rest of the day, it was a cycle of cleaning as I prepped meals. It had been nothing short of eventful since my arrival. Although chaotic, I liked that him and the kids kept me busy.
An older woman in a pair of jeans, a peach-colored blouse, and a grease-stained apron around her waist greeted us with a smile. She was a little flustered as she dealt with customers on her way to us but stopped and caught her breath while bringing her hands together.
“Welcome to Trail Bistro! What can I do for you two tonight?”
“A booth please,” Staten requested.
“I just had one cleaned in the back. Come right with me.” She picked up two menus from the entrance counter where there were people seated.
The place was full of warm vibes as people chattered and laughed with each other while stuffing their faces.
“Here you are. These are your menus. Can I start you with something to drink and our famous house rolls and honey butter?”
“I’ll take a lemon water,” I requested.
“Give me two shots of that Marek reserve whiskey, a glass of iced tea… and those rolls,” Staten told her as we slid into the booth across from one another.
“Coming right up. Oh, and the name is Bethany.” She winked and walked off.
“It smells so good in here. I feel like I’m going to have to run this meal off later.” I picked up my menu and opened it.
Everything looked so good I found it hard to choose, and I didn’t want to come off like a pig in front of him. I decided on a cheeseburger with fries, and he ordered a twelve-piece wing combo with potato wedges. Our drinks were brought to us first, and I turned my nose up at the whiskey.
“I’m more of a tequila girlie.” With my nose squinched up, I pushed the glass to the center of the table.
“My grandpa used to say whiskey was liquid sunshine.” Staten picked up his glass and twirled it around as he studied the different hues in the liquid. “This is part of the Marek Reserve.”
“You have your own whiskey.” I eyed the glass in front of me. “I remember reading about this when I was a kid. One of the first black families to own and distill their own liquor in the state.”
I’d lived in this town all my life. There were so many rumors about the Mareks and what they did or didn’t do that I paid it no mind. It never fucked with me or my little orbit. Messing with Sayer was the closest I ever got to the streets. My parents didn’t play that shit. Meeting Staten brought me into his tight-knit world I knew nothing about. It was ominous, and I’m sure filled with secrets I wanted to know nothing about. The NDA I had to sign all but told me to keep my mouth shut or I’d end up in court until I was ninety years old.
“Swear on the bottle,” Staten recited, breaking me away from my thoughts. “You took the job, signed the papers, now you seal it with a sip.” He tipped his glass to me. “It’s tradition.”
“Hmm.” Gripping the double shot in my hand, I raised it to his. “Sealed with a sip.” The warm liquid slid down my throat with a smoothness I wasn’t expecting. “Damn. That’s good.”
“Indeed,” he agreed, setting his glass on the table.
Being so close to him left me canvassing him, wondering about the tattoos all over and that deep, penetrating stare behind his eyes.
“Can I ask you something?” I leaned forward with my arms crossed in front of me.
“Depends on what it is,” he countered.
“What happened to you? Sol mentioned that you just came home after being gone for a while.”
Lifting his eyes from his drink, he peered across the table into mine while twirling the glass.
“I almost died. My mama was paralyzed. I couldn’t stay here and be what my pops wanted me to be.” Staten listed off.
“That makes sense. How did you end up raising four kids by yourself?” I sipped my water and leaned back into the soft leather of the booth.
“I co-parent with Tavi and Saga’s mama. She lives in Jersey, so they spend half the year with her. Piaget’s mama never wanted to be a mother, but I didn’t want her to have an abortion, so I told her I would take her when she was born.”
