Page 38 of The Wrong Sister

“I’m glad you did.” She winks.

Once we’re dressed, she straightens her desk and gestures me towards the door. I unlock it and pull it open, stepping through while turning to talk to her. The door shuts in my face. I’m staring at it, open-mouthed when it opens again. Mina takes one look at me and bursts into laughter.

“You should see your face! I’m not that heartless—my purse was hanging on the hook behind the door. I’m starving after that. Dinner?”

24

mina

After a quick stop for both of us at the bathrooms, I re-lock the outer office door and Griffin reaches out, weaving his fingers between mine. It’s a small gesture, but it means everything to me. Even more than the two epic orgasms he gave me on my sad government-issued desk. You don’t publicly hold hands with a fuck buddy, right?

“What sounds good to you?” he asks, shortening his long strides to accommodate my smaller ones. “Also, I realized I walked over here from my office and neither of us walks to work.”

I laugh. “I wondered what the plan was. How do you feel about Ethiopian?”

“I’m down for a new experience. Do you have a place you like?”

“I do. Since we’re right here, why don’t I drive us over to Chinatown? I can bring you back to your car afterward.”

“Works for me.”

It’s another small, silly thing, but I appreciate that Griffin doesn’t make a big deal out of me driving us to dinner. He simply climbs into the passenger seat, adjusting it to give himself enough legroom. I’ve dated my share of guys that would never allow me to take us anywhere (drive, or make the plans, or choose the location) and I found it frustrating. Who cares how you get there? Why don’t I get a say?

“Did you drive at all in New York?”

I smile at the memory. “Not at all! I was strictly a walk or subway girl. Even taxis or ride shares were rare for me. It’s still a fun experience to drive places again. What about you? Did you have a car in Chicago?”

“I had a car in California but I sold it when I went to law school. In Chicago, I stuck to public transportation, but I also spent most of my time studying. I’ve been back here long enough that driving isn’t novel anymore, but I understand the feeling. It’s strange to drive after spending years using public transportation.”

I park in a small lot at the top of Smith, using the app to pay the fee. Griffin takes my hand again but allows me to lead us to the restaurant. Again, points for Griff. I like that he’s a strong, masculine guy, but he doesn’t have a problem with me being take-charge too. Most men are intimidated by me or want to keep me under their thumb as if that shows off how manly they are. No thank you.

The restaurant is a tiny spot with a handful of tables inside. The smells though! Ethiopian food is big in the spice department. I love the warm scents of stewing meats, garlic, ginger, turmeric, carom, cloves, and dozens of other things that I can’t identify but make my mouth water all the same.

“I’d appreciate you taking the lead here, Mina. Everything smells delicious, but I wouldn’t have the first clue what to order.” And another point for Mr. Simms. As if I have any reason to keep score. This is Griffin. He’s never had any competition.

“No worries,” I assure him, “I’ve got you.”

Our waitress is a personal favorite and greets me warmly. She’s a young college student and I tip accordingly. I remember working long hours and studying late into the night trying to earn my degree. She’s the cutest thing with deep mahogany skin, the brightest smile, and a beautifully shaped head always on full display with her hair shorn close to the scalp. It’s so badass.

“How are classes going?”

“Good, good! I’m working hard.” There’s a flash of bright, white teeth as she fills our water glasses.

“I know you are. Are you still pursuing social work?”

“You know it!”

“I hope you know how serious I am about giving you any help I can.”

“I know, Mina. I believe you. I’ll be calling you when I’m ready to shadow somebody and start looking for internship-type things!”

“Good! I don’t want you to think I’m merely saying it. I mean it! You have my number, don’t be afraid to use it. Oh, Liya! This is Griffin Simms.” He extends his hand, shaking hers with a smile. “Griffin would be an excellent resource as well. He’s a family lawyer and works very closely with CWS.” Griffin digs in his wallet and hands her a business card.

“Here’s my card. If Mina is willing to help, I am too. We need more people excited and passionate about helping children and families in need.” Damn, he makes it so easy to forget how hurt and angry I was before.

“Thank you! Do you know what you want to order, Mina, or should I give you guys time with the menu?”

“We can go ahead and order. We’ll do the Beyaynetu, white folks level of spice, Tej to share, and we’ll finish with the coffee service.”

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