Page 232 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

to Andrew

to the hundred-dollar bill on the counter, smirk loading. “Baby with her tits out and Joisey makin’ it rain?” With a Cheshire grin, he drops into the stool at the counter. “Tell me you ain’t treatin’ her like a stripper, bro.”

“Nah,” Andrew says. “Strippers at least work for it.” He turns and opens the water fridge. “My interest costs a lot more than a pair of tits.”

Ben buries his laugh into his fist.

Every muscle in my face tenses.

The nerve.

In my own penthouse.

This is why women should keep their legs open and their hearts duct-taped shut. Men become dicks when they’re butthurt.

Honor strolls in from the hallway next,

then stalls, blinking hard at my chest.

“We—uh—ignorin’ the perfect tits—? Sorry. I mean—you know what I mean.”

Andrew closes the fridge,

twists off the cap.

“Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

I grind down on my teeth, yank open a drawer for the corkscrew, snatch it out, then shut the drawer so hard baby carrot Darryl is shaken from his nap.

Ben smirks as he takes a bite of his apple, juice running down his thumb.

He smacks his bite loud on purpose,

loving every second of this.

I expected a storm unleashed out of Andrew. Thunder. Panic. Tornadoes. Instead he gives me a gentle, stupid breeze.

This wasn’t the plan.

I wanted to draw jealousy, possession.

At the very least,

a vein popping in his neck.

But here I am: topless, a joke, standing between two guys staring at my tits and he doesn’t fucking care.

My hand shakes as I try to blade the foil around the lip of the bottle, not sure if it’s anger jittering through me or my body trying to trap in heat in this freezing-ass penthouse.

From the other side of the counter, Honor watches me with a wince, then jumps into action, rounding the counter and coming to my rescue. “Aight, nah. Baby, you want wine tonight or next week? ‘Cause at this pace—” He steps in, slipping the bottle and corkscrew out of my hand. “C’mon, give it here. Before you slice off your damn finger.”

The cork squeaks as he twists,

veins like lightning strikes up his arm.

“That’s cute,” Ben coos. “Honor tryna be her husband already.”

“Mmhm,” Andrew grunts. “Keep at it, player, she might break sooner than you think.”