Page 81 of Anything Necessary for Her
“I know. Trust me, I know. I used to have my brothers call places to get my name on reservation lists when they were booked.”
“How you choose which brother to call?”
“Depended on where I was going. For example, if it was some elite shit, I would call one of my famous brothers.”
“I got you.” He nodded, smirking with glistening eyes as he took me in. I was gonna ask what that look meant, but Fallen came up to take our orders.
I, of course, chose the mimosa, though the butterfly tea with champagne sounded good too. Low got whiskey like an old man, refusing to try anything frilly, and then we both opted for the waffle breakfast sandwich with breakfast potatoes and a biscuit.
Usually, I didn’t eat like this, considering I needed to be at a certain weight and shape for my career, but as the Prolific Pointe nutritionist had taught us—if you have a craving, go for it to prevent future binging. And because my daily meals consisted of sugarless oatmeal, egg white omelets, baked chicken, baked sweet potatoes, and no carbs for dinner, I would be fine.
Our food came out pretty quickly, which was expected since we were the only patrons here at the brunch spot.
After eating a few bites, I said, “This is so good. I have to bring Sophie here.” I nodded, making Low chuckle.
“She still on that, huh?”
“She is.” I smirked.
“First time I met her, she asked me where her brunch was. Had a nigga on stuck and pulling out my map app to find a spot.”
I burst into laughter, imagining Low nervous in front of Sophie. He was so sweet and caring but didn’t realize it. I hated that he thought he was a bad person, but I knew he’d been conditioned to believe that due to his upbringing and his current lifestyle.
“That’s too funny. Did you find one?”
“Right when I did, Stazi told me it was cool.”
“That was sweet that you tried.” I drank some of my mimosa, and he shrugged one shoulder while forking some of his crispy potatoes.
“I need to speak with yo’ pops, Peep.” He changed the subject, taking a sip of his own drink while keeping his eyes on me. “Yo’ brothers, too, but he the priority.”
“Yeah, you do.” I swallowed skittishly, hoping he didn’t notice. Word had gotten back to my father about me and Low, and he wasn’t happy at all. “I hope a fight doesn’t break out between you and my brothers.”
“Me either, but I gotta do what I gotta do if so. Can’t let nobody chump me, even if I . . . wanna be with their sister.” He seemed to alter his last statement, making me wonder what he was about to say.
“I know. You wouldn’t be the man I’m falling for if you did allow that. I’m happy you’re willing to make amends with them though.”
“It’s a one-sided beef, that’s why. They mad, I’m not.”
I bobbed my head in understanding, but no longer wanting to discuss the discord between me, Low, and my family. Neither of us wanted to bend, because I was angry at how they reacted as if I was a child, and I assume they felt betrayed, judging by the looks on their faces when I kissed Low in front of them. But they were the ones seemingly trying to make me choose, not Low, and that was one of the reasons why I was riding for him.
I was on edge though, praying Low didn’t get shot while out one day, courtesy of my brothers, even though Asif promised me that wouldn’t happen.
We finished up our food, then Low led me to the back of the establishment instead of out to the car. We stepped into a vintage but chic elevator and rode up to the fifth floor, Low using a key card to access it.
“What is this?” I questioned excitedly as he led me out of the elevator and into a big, beautiful suite with views of all of Beverly Hills.
“The restaurant is attached to a hotel,” he let me know as he shut the door while I admired the setup.
It had the same color scheme as the eatery below it, and I could tell by certain fixtures and furnishings that this place wasn’t cheap. Per usual, it was set up like a miniature one-bedroom apartment, kitchen, and separate living room included. Pink roses and red petals were scattered around the suite beautifully.
When I stepped further in, moving toward the big window overlooking the city, I noticed to my left there was a massage bed with a table of oils, lotions, and a scent diffuser beside it.
“You booked me a massage?” I whipped around to face Low, a slight blush on his deep brown skin.
“Kind of.” He licked his lips. “I didn’t want nobody else rubbing on you though.” He lifted the robe that hung on one side of the double doors that led to the bedroom and outreached it to me.
“How many massages have you given, Mr. Harris? I need a real one,” I half jested.
