“Stop mean-mugging these people and answer my question,” Avian said, smacking my arm playfully. She adjusted the strap of her purse and smirked. “You famous. People are gonna stare.”
“That shit’s rude, though,” I shot back, scanning the hotel lobby. I went to high-end hotels expecting the people who were able to afford them to gawk less. This fame shit was starting to get on my nerves more and more lately.
Avian rolled her eyes, leaning against the counter like she owned the place. Hell, in Atlanta, she probably did. She had gone from dancing to owning several businesses; she was taking care of her momma and daddy and her sister’s kids. People didn’t see how she was because they were too busy looking at her ass. She didn’t drink, didn’t do drugs, didn’t fuck no NBA players for money. She just happened to use her god-given talents to propel her ahead of a lot of people.
“You act like you ain’t used to this by now,” she said.
I shrugged, my jaw tightening. “I’m used to it. Doesn’t mean I gotta like it.”
She laughed. “You been famous too long to still care about people looking at you sideways. Now, back to what I was saying—have you talked to him?”
I didn’t need to ask who she meant. She was always rooting for me and her uncle’s relationship. “Nope. Don’t plan to either.”
Avian shook her head, exhaling like she was tired of me. “You can’t keep ducking him, Ci. He’s still your father. He went to rehab after you beat his ass.”
I waved her off. “He’s still full of shit,” I said, my tone flat. I wasn’t about to let her guilt-trip me into dealing with that man. “Let’s drop it.”
She tilted her head, studying me. “You know he’s gonna pop up eventually, right? You might as well get ahead of it.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the air in the room shifted, pulling my attention. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her. Jordin.
She stepped into the lobby, her eyes scanning the space until they landed on me. Her face froze. Her lips pressed into a tight line, and she turned on her heel, heading right back out the door.
“Well, damn, she looked like she wanted to beat both of our asses,” Avian muttered, raising a perfectly arched brow. “Friend of yours?”
I didn’t answer. I was already moving, leaving her by the counter as I followed Jordin outside.
“Jordin,” I called, catching up with her just as she reached the curb.
She stopped but didn’t turn around. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you and your... company,” she spat it out like the words tasted nasty. “I just wanted to say thank you for the Post-its. The food.” She waved a hand like she was brushing off the words, her eyes refusing to meet mine. “It was sweet, Ci. I just... I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Her voice was calm, but I could hear the edge underneath. She was jealous.
“You’re mad why,” I said, a grin pulling at my lips.
“I’m not mad,” she snapped, her eyes finally locking with mine.
“Jealous, then.”
Her laugh was sharp, humorless. “Tuh. Of what? You and some stripper?”
“You walked in, saw me with Avian, and bolted. That’s not jealousy?”
“I’m not jealous,” she snapped, her cheeks giving her away. “I just didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Sure,” I drawled, stepping closer. Before she could throw another excuse my way, I bent down, lifting her off the ground with one arm around her waist.
“Ciarán, put me down!” she hissed, her voice low, probably to avoid making a scene.
Ignoring her, I glanced at the concierge as we passed. “Grab her bags and bring them to my suite.”
“People are staring!” she gritted through her teeth, squirming in my arms.
My hand landed heavy on her ass and she gasped. “Let them stare,” I said.
A noise like a kitten growling came from her mouth. I laughed louder.
By the time I set her down in front of Avian, she was practically vibrating. She smoothed her dress and glared at me, her lips pressed tight.
