Page 29 of Isn't She Lucky
I shrug. “Okay, I guess.”
“Is there something wrong with the room, or—”
“No, no. It’s just new surroundings.”
“What’s new about it? You know this place like the back of your hand.”
I take a sip of the drink, realizing it’s a mimosa – a strong one, but it’s delicious. I’m grateful for the alcohol. I have a feeling I might need it to get by.
“Do you always get chefs to cook for you?”
“No. I usually have Pearl whip up something for breakfast. I’m usually not home for lunch or dinner. It’s all work. I have a chef today because this is a special occasion.”
“How so?”
“You’re finally back.”
Finally, he says, as if he’d been expecting me.
The chef places food on the table. Eggs, bacon, grits, biscuits—it’s a flex to have an outside stove.
He leaves.
I prepare a plate and eat some eggs and bacon.
Kasim fills his plate with more food than I think he can handle. But with the size of his muscles, he probably needs all that protein. All of it.
After taking a few bites, he says, “You grew up into a beautiful woman. I meant to tell you that sooner.”
“You don’t have to say that, Kasim. It’s all good.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, let’s keep this professional since that’s what this is. A transactional marriage. You get your inheritance. I got a million dollars. That’s what we said this was, right?”
He grimaces and says, “Right.”
“So, I don’t need any compliments from you.”
He drops his fork on his plate and leans back in his chair.
I say, “I’m just trying to go by the rules. This is what I agreed to. What I signed, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you acting like I’ve offended you somehow?”
He doesn’t answer me. I glance up at him and catch his darkened gaze. It’s so menacing, I have to look away from it. I return my attention to my plate.
“I need to ask you something,” he says.
“What’s that?”
“First, let me set the scene…we’d just finished our freshman year of high school. You came over to hang out like you always do, and then I never saw you again. I’ve always wanted to know what happened.”
“Nothing happened,” I say, trying to downplay the severity of what that moment did to damage me. “Life happened. School happened. High school was tough.”
“I know that. We weren’t at the same school, but we had some of the same challenges. What I’m asking you is, why did I never see you again?”
