Page 15 of The Friend Zone
He was talking to her. A good sign.
“They didn’t give you too much of a hard time about your love life?”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, which meant they were definitely in a better place than ten minutes ago.
“Nah, they were on their best behavior. Interesting enough, so was Cole. There’s a tiny chance he and I might be able to have a better relationship. My dad invited him to go golfing with us, and he accepted.”
“Wow, progress.”
“We’ll see. Keep your fingers crossed for me.”
“How was the restaurant opening?”
Stroking his bearded chin, Omar replied, “A mixed bag. Good energy, but they weren’t ready for the crowd. Food tasted fine, but the service was terrible. I think the owners underestimated how much staff they needed, so the food came out of the kitchen slowly, and they brought me the wrong dish for dinner. I ate it, though, because by then I was starving. I got someone’s salmon and somebody got my trout. The whole experience made me think about Kitchen Love and how I need to make sure we have plenty of staff to handle service opening night.”
“Better to have too many people than not enough.”
They rode in silence for a few minutes.
“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” Dana asked.
He let out a little laugh, and the same corner of his mouth curled into a smile, while he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She wondered if he had any idea how sexy he looked.
“You know I can’t stay mad at you.”
His voice had dipped low and vibrated in the air, leaving her skin peppered with goosebumps. She smoothed a hand over her thigh to negate the effect and hide the trembling of her fingers.
“I appreciate your offer to pay for my trip, and if my situation changes, I’ll let you know.”
He nodded slowly. “I’d do anything for you. I hope you know that.” He kept his eyes on the road, but she didn’t miss the gravity of his words.
“I do.”
8
Deon and his wife Rebecca lived in a multi-million-dollar home in an affluent Buckhead neighborhood filled with more multi-million-dollar homes. Their brown, Tudor-style house seemed to rise up out of the concrete at the end of a long driveway brightened by landscape lights and lights in every window.
Game night at their house included a spades tournament with a one-hundred-dollar buy-in. Last time Omar covered his and Dana’s fee, and when they emerged the victors, he split the sixteen-hundred-dollar cash prize evenly with her. While the money was merely pocket change to him, Dana used her winnings to help Tommy and Theresa cover school expenses.
The basement of Deon’s house was crowded, but as soon as they walked in, Dana spotted the host. During the off-season, the showy athlete had dyed his hair blond, in sharp contrast to his mahogany skin.
“Look who’s here. The tournament champs!” Deon bellowed as soon as he spotted them.
He came over, and he and Omar greeted each other with a complicated dap, slapping their palms together, snapping, and ending with a fist bump.
“I’m coming for your trophy,” Deon said, briefly hugging Dana.
“You can have the trophy when you pry it out of my cold, dead hands,” Dana said.
“Oh damn, she already talking shit. It’s on, baby, it’s on!” Deon hollered.
Dana and Omar laughed at his antics and then made their way over to the cashier. Omar paid the one-hundred-dollar fee and so did Dana. Afterward, they snacked on heavy hors d’oeuvres but limited the amount of liquor they drank so they could keep clear heads.
Guests crowded around the roulette table, played cards, or chatted at the bar. The company catering the event supplied servers who took food and beverage orders from the guests, and anyone not playing a game sat at the tables eating or hovered near the bar chatting and drinking.
When the spades tournament started, four teams participated, half as many as last time. Walking over to their table, Omar whispered, “We’re going to kick their asses.”
“Most definitely,” Dana agreed.
