Page 12 of The Hellcat Barbies: Zora
“Yeah. That’s the closest thing I got to a sibling.”
“I knew they weren’t originally from here, so you came to be close to them?”
“Yeah,” I said with a nod. “Life had me moving different for a while, and it was time for a change. That’s why I put my shop here.”
Her smile pulled subtle at the corners. “Sounds like a man with a plan.”
“I don’t waste time on things I don’t plan on keeping,” I told her.
Her eyes narrowed, letting me know she caught my underlying meaning. “Your daughter must keep you busy then.”
“She does. She’s the only one who gets me moving any way she wants.”
“That’s how it should be. My niece has me the same way.”
We engaged in small talk for the rest of the drive. Her laugh was so intoxicating… I had to remember this was just a date.
Once I pulled up to the restaurant, I handed the valet the keys and went around to open her door again. She took my hand, climbing out with one brow raised.
“A gentleman, huh?”
“Only for you,” I countered.
Inside, we were led to a dimly lit corner table, and soft music setting the scene. The waiter handed off our menus and took our drink orders before leaving us alone. Zora had my attention more than anything else in the room. The waiter brought our drinks back, and that’s when she caught me staring, and I didn’t even care.
“You’on even try to hide it,” she teased.
“I’ain never been the type of nigga to hide from shit,” I replied, leaning forward.
Her smirk deepened. “Cocky.”
“Honest,” I corrected.
When dinner came, the conversation still flowed. She talked about the Barbies and their big race that was coming up. I thought it was dope as hell for a group of females to race. That shit was sexy as fuck. I told her about how I started cutting hair, and about building something solid for Semerah. I even let her know about my piss poor excuse for a baby mama, and like most people, she was disgusted.
“So this is how all your dates go?” she asked, leaning into the table with her chin resting on her hand. “Take women to the nicest spot in the city, spit game, and hope they forget to check for red flags?”
I smirked, sipping my drink. “What red flags you catch?”
“You’re too smooth… too put together. Men like you usually have something messy hiding in the background.” She shrugged.
I leaned in. “What if I told you I’ain have any mess?”
“Then I’d say you’re lying.” She laughed, low and easy. “But at least you’re entertaining while you lie.”
By the time dessert came, I had accomplished my goal of making her smile. The ride back to her house was quieter, but not uncomfortable. She asked a few more questions about the shop, and I asked more about her car club. When we pulled up at her house, I parked in the driveway and prepared to help her out.
“You wanna come inside for a nightcap?” She flirted. I could tell what type of time she was on, and I didn’t mind one bit.
“I can.”
Once inside, she headed straight for the kitchen. “White or dark?” she asked, pulling down two glasses.
“Whiskey for me… if you have it,” I said, leaning on the counter.
She poured the drink and then handed it to me before fixing herself something lighter. I took one sip before setting it down, moving in close enough to crowd her space.
“You kinda close, ain’t it?” she asked, raising her perfectly arched brow.
