Dad asks, “So, what do you do, son?”
I momentarily panic.Please don’t mention the strip club. Please don’t mention the strip club.
“Business owner.”
“What kind of business?” Preeti pushes, eying him like she doesn’t believe him.
“You know The Metal House?”
“Oh, yes. That is where we get all our auto work done,” Dad answers.
Onyx nods. “That’s me.”
“He’s also the COO of Cookie’s Treat,” Mira supplies. I dagger her a quick glare and she shrugs with a“whaaat?”expression.
“You’re sleeping with your boss?!” Preeti hush-shouts. And there goes her judgmental side, rearing its ugly head.
“He’s not my boss. Well, technically, yes, but—It’s not…” I stutter, grappling for words. I glance up at Onyx, silently begging for help, but he seems to be enjoying my discomfort. After all, I’m the one who lied us into this corner.
Right then, his phone rings, and he excuses himself to answer.
Hot Mom watches him leave, chewing the rim of her cup. I’m not sure how she manages to make chewing a plastic cup look sexy, but it does. “Justhowserious are you two? Like a few months serious, or…?”
What? Is she for real?
“I can’t believe you’re dating your boss,” Preeti admonishes. “What if things don’t work out? You know he will no doubt find a reason to fire you, right?”
“All the better if he does,” Mom says, too content with the possibility. “We will get her back at the Deli then.”
“Where shereallybelongs,” Dad emphasizes.
Oh, for Pete’s sake.
“So how did it start?” Preeti asks. “Does he have children? Is he a divorcee? Which of the kids here are his?”
Onyx returns just then, saving me from having to answer her influx of questions. “That was the floor manager. Some issues with a delivery. Gotta go sort it since you’re off. You mind keeping an eye on the boys for me ‘til I get back?”
“Sure, sure. Of course.”
Like its the most natural thing in the world, he drops a kiss to my lips and mutters, “Thanks, babe.”
Inwardly stunned, I turn and watch him leave, my lips hot and quivering from the brief contact of his against mine.
Once he’s out of sight, I turn back around and face my family, who are all staring at me with curious eyes and questions ready on their tongues.
I curse under my breath.
Well, dammit.
~
Hours later, after the party is over and all the kiddies and their parents have gone home, a knock comes at my door. I pretend not to hear, as I’ve been doing for the past hour. I should be next door helping with the after-party clean-up, but instead, I’m hiding out in my apartment to avoid answering the unending questions about Onyx; I’m all questioned out.
The twins, who I’d used as an excuse to flee, are out cold on my couch.
When another knock sounds at the door five minutes later to the timeless beat of Busta Rhymes’ “Put Your Hands Where My Eyes Can See”, I know it’s Mira, so I peel up off the daybed and answer.
Except it’s not Mira standing there. It’s Onyx.
