black women knew how to fire off with the skill of a sharpshooter.
“You know I’m not about that anymore.” He smiled so the hurt wouldn’t show on his face. But the edge in his voice gave him away. “I quit dealing before we broke up.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
Dre turned away and gazed around the restaurant. It hadn’t been like this before. Bland conversation, long gaps of silence, the air so thick with tension you could hardly stand to breathe it. He should just ask for the bill and take her prissy ass home. Only Dre didn’t want to take her home.
“So what kind of juvenile cases are you handling?”
“Most of my clients are minors charged with soliciting prostitution.”
“Any dude who’d mess with a child is sick.”
“Absolutely. These girls are victims, but they’re treated like criminals. The johns only get a slap on the wrist and the pimps rarely get prosecuted because the girls are too afraid to testify against them. But one of my girls did really well in court today. I’m proud of her.”
Dre’s smartphone vibrated. He ignored it.
A waitress with bright-pink lips and matching nail polish walked up to the table. “How are you guys doing tonight? Have you had a chance to peruse the menu?”
They both listened as the woman recited the specials. Dre ordered chicken piccata. Angela chose the grilled tilapia.
“How’s your son?” Angela asked.
Dre beamed. “Growing up way too fast.” He pulled his smartphone from his pocket and showed her a picture. “This is Little Dre and my niece, Brianna.”
“Wow,” Angela said. “Both of them look just like you. She has your hazel eyes.”
“Yep. She’s more like my daughter than my niece. Smart as a whip too. She wants to be a lawyer. Maybe I can bring her down to your office and you can talk to her sometime.”
“Sure.”
He swiped through a few more pictures.
“Who’s that?” Angela pointed to a woman pictured with Dre and Brianna.
Dre smiled. “That’s my sister, Donna. I’m taking them all to a Lakers’ game next week. Why don’t you—”
The smartphone vibrated again. This time, he read the screen, then placed it face down on the table.
“My sister, Donna,” he explained with a shrug. “She can wait.”
Angela arched a brow and gave him a yeah-sure-it’s-your-sister smile.
Dre frowned. “You don’t believe me?”
Angela responded with a hunch of her shoulders.
“I’ve never lied to you.”
Angela chuckled. “Depends on whether we’re talking about a straight-out lie or a lie by omission. Like your never telling me you were a drug dealer.”
“An ex-drug dealer,” Dre corrected her. “And I did plan to tell you.”
He scratched his jaw. He didn’t like being judged.
“If you’re still trippin’ about everything that went down, then why’d you come tonight?”
Angela waited a long beat. “Because I missed you.”
Dre smiled at the first green light of the evening and exhaled the anxiety right out of his body. He leaned in over the table. “Angela, I—”
The loud vibration of his smartphone cut him off a second time.
He grimaced. “My sister’s a drama queen. Whatever she wants can wait.”
“Sure it’s your sister.” Angela clasped her hands and set them on the table. “Guess I’m not the only woman who misses you.”
“I’m not seeing anybody. I haven’t been with anybody since you.”
“If you say so.”
“It’s the truth.”
Angela propped her right elbow on the table and extended her palm. “If that’s really your sister, then let me return her call.”
Dre briefly looked away.
He had babes jockin’ him every day of the week. He didn’t have to take this crap. Still, he turned back to her, picked up his smartphone and placed it in her outstretched hand.
“Go ’head. Knock yourself out.”
Angela redialed the last incoming number.
As she raised the smartphone to her ear. Dre locked his arms across his chest and leaned back in his