A Tale of Two Cities Page 3

  “Man, I just knew that chainsaw man had finally got your ass, Savannah,” Rod teased, making everyone laugh as I playfully rolled my eyes.

  “Nah, it wasn’t the chainsaw man. It was the Lincoln man,” Jasmine sang, making me gasp since I didn’t think anyone had even noticed how close Lincoln and I had gotten in the back of the line.

  I mean, it was a haunted house, so we were bound to invade a little of each other’s personal space if we wanted to keep all the scary people from getting between us. But staying close together didn’t necessarily mean lowkey cuddling up. And, well… let’s just say I wasn’t complaining about that part.

  Lincoln played it cool enough for the both of us, shrugging when he defended, “She was scared. I was just being helpful.”

  “You mean, helping yourself to some Savannah,” Ariel joked, her and Jasmine still pressed to play twin cupids while simultaneously embarrassing the hell out of me.

  Then again, what was there to be embarrassed about?

  I was attracted to Lincoln, he seemed to be attracted to me, we were on what was supposed to be a fun vacation to celebrate love. There was no reason to back away from whatever was happening within just a few hours of knowing him if it meant increasing the enjoyment of my time away from home. In fact, not being at home made it all the more likely that I would take full advantage of whatever this was while I could since it wasn’t like we’d run into each other again outside of the wedding in a few weeks.

  So when Jennifer asked, “Are y’all tryna go to the R-rated one or not? Derek and I can catch our own ride back to the strip if y’all really don’t want to,” I was quick to bargain, “I’ll go if Lincoln goes.”

  His eyebrow piqued as if he was surprised by my invitation, making me wonder if I had read his attraction all wrong. But then his lips turned upwards into a grin, making me feel all warm and fuzzy again as he agreed, “Let’s do it, shorty.”

  Lincoln

  It was the next morning, and she was still on my mind. Let her tell it, it was because we had survived a near-death experience together by going through that damn R-rated haunted house with Derek and Jennifer. But I knew it was more than just that that had me laying in bed alone, scrolling through Savannah’s Instagram to learn more about her before we linked up with them this afternoon.

  When she told me she owned a hair salon, she hadn’t mentioned that it was the top-rated one in her city. When she spoke about her daughter, she hadn’t mentioned that little mama was only a freshman and already had a college scholarship offer to play volleyball at one of the top programs in the country. And when she mentioned previously being a high school track coach, she hadn’t shared that she’d also had a record-setting high school career in the sport herself.

  Should’ve known from how effortlessly she ran away from that damn chainsaw man.

  It was crazy to me that she had all of this going for herself and played humble when it was clear she was on her shit, and I honestly couldn't wait to gas her up about it. Though I was sure my fuel would also have Jasmine and Ariel on that love connection bullshit again.

  Sure, I found Savannah wildly attractive. But I also knew she lived in a completely different part of the country than I did which meant the chances of us having something real were slim to none.

  Still, that didn’t mean we couldn’t have our fun for the weekend. And I assumed that was exactly what Savannah was on when she invited me into that second haunted house; the haunted house that was on an entirely different level than the first one and had my ass screaming just as much as she was.

  Shit was fun as hell, though.

  Truthfully, Savannah was just fun as hell. Sweet, and fun, and finer than fine which made it easy to get wrapped up in whatever she was putting out. But I also knew to remind myself that this was as good as it was going to get with us. At least, that’s what I assumed as I finally pressed the button to follow her account.

  She followed me back immediately.

  The fact that she was on her phone the same way I was this early in the morning had me quick to slide in her DMs.

  @TheRealLincolnN: “Everybody over at the MGM still sleep too?”

  It didn’t take long for her to send a response.

  @VannyMarie05: “Yes. And the time zone change in combination with the fact that I’m so used to already being at the salon by now is really throwing me. I’m already dressed and everything.”

  Doing a quick glance back at the location on her profile, I was reminded that she currently lived in the central time zone which meant being in Las Vegas was two hours earlier than usual for her. And with her owning the shop, I could imagine she was used to being there bright and early to open the doors for a busy Saturday. But since she wasn’t and we were the only ones awake, I quickly came up with a better way for us to pass the time.

  @TheRealLincolnN: “Wanna do breakfast?”

  @VannyMarie05: “Are you asking me out on a date, Lincoln? ;)”

  While I hadn’t thought of it as such when I originally sent the message, now that she had brought it up, I wasn’t backing down from the idea when I typed out a response.

  @TheRealLincolnN: “Yeah :). Come to breakfast with me, Vanny Marie. Hash House A Go Go.”

  @VannyMarie05: “You’re in luck. Eating one of those face-sized pancakes they have was already on my list of must-haves.”

  @TheRealLincolnN: “So you’re saying you would’ve said no to my offer if it wasn’t?”

  @VannyMarie05: “Does it matter? ;)”

  Smiling at my phone, I quickly decided I wasn’t ashamed if she was only using me to check an item off of her foodie bucket list. I mean, I was hungry and I was getting her company, so it was giving me the best of both worlds regardless.

  @TheRealLincolnN: “Nope. See you in thirty. I’ll send you an Uber.”

  I figured it was the polite thing to do since the restaurant was a lot further from her hotel than it was from mine. But I shouldn’t have been surprised when her athletic ass suggested an active alternative.

  @VannyMarie05: “I just looked it up on Google Maps. I can walk from here.”

  @TheRealLincolnN: “Uhhh… that’s like a twenty-five-minute walk for you, ain’t it?”

  @VannyMarie05: “Or a short fifteen-minute walk to your hotel, so we can do the last ten together. ;)”

  @TheRealLincolnN: “Who said I wanted to walk, though?”

  @VannyMarie05: “LOL! Don’t be lazy, Lincoln! I’ll meet you by the fountains outside of your hotel in fifteen.”

  @TheRealLincolnN: “Aight, bet. See you then, shorty.”

  I had a feeling those fifteen minutes would fly by, so I wasted no time hopping out of bed to brush my teeth and wash my face, grateful to have taken a shower the night before since it saved me a little time. Then I quickly got dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, completing my look with a ball cap since juicing up my close-cut curls would have to wait until later when I had a few more minutes to do so.

  The second I emerged from my side of the suite, I expected to find the living room empty. But to my surprise, Rod was sitting in the middle of the floor with his legs crossed in a meditating position, his eyes closed when he asked, “Yo, where you sneakin’ off to?”

  Since I wasn’t exactly ready to have him in me and Savannah’s business, I lied, “Uh… just going for a little walk. You know, do something healthy before we spend the rest of the day clownin’.”

  His eyes snapped open. “Bullshit. Where you goin’, for real?”

  Now that he could see me, I would’ve felt too guilty lying to his face. So I sighed before I answered, “To breakfast. With Savannah.”

  He was slow to climb from his zenful seated position. But once he did, he got right in my face to groan, “Wow. Nigga ain’t waste no time pushin’ up on my woman. Homies phony, cuz. I’m tellin’ you.”

  Knowing Savannah was the furthest thing from his woman, I could only laugh. “Chill, Rod. It’s just breakfast.”

  That didn’t calm him
down a bit, his voice unreasonably loud like usual when he replied, “It starts with breakfast and it ends with butt-naked sex. You know that’s what the BNB in Airbnb really stands for. Breakfast n’ Booty.”

  I laughed even harder. “You know what… you might be onto somethin’. But, look. I gotta get going. Tell Derek I’ll be back in time to hit the pool with y’all.”

  Grabbing a poolside cabana at the hotel’s day party and chillin’ out for the afternoon was the only solidified plan I knew about since Derek and Jennifer were still unsure of which Halloween party they wanted us to get all dressed up for. But of course, even the mention of that put Rod in his feelings when he replied, “I’ll think about it. Since you wanna take a nigga’s girl on the sneak and shit.”

  Shaking my head with another laugh, I finally made my way out of the hotel suite, taking the long elevator ride down to the lobby and then walking towards the strip where Savannah was already waiting looking like sunshine in her strapless yellow dress and flat sandals.

  The smile she gave when she noticed me only added to her glowing aura as she sang, “Good morning, Lincoln.”

  Pulling her into a quick hug, I replied, “Mornin’, Vanny Marie. You lookin’ good.”

  Good was honestly an understatement. I mean, really she looked spectacular, radiant, unfairly good for me to only be dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with dry ass curls under my cap.

  Still, instead of fully absorbing my compliment or putting me on blast about looking like a peasant next to her, she only smirked. “I do what I can. I’m just happy to be out of that hotel. The longer I laid in bed, the more it felt like the walls were beginning to close in on me. I mean, I’m just so used to being on the go that sitting still for so long felt… uncomfortable.”

  “Is that why you wanted to walk instead of Uber?” I asked as I started doing just that in the direction of the restaurant.

  She matched my stride as she answered, “Exactly why. That and the fact that the walk back to the hotel will help me burn off some of the calories from this pancake I’m about to devour.”

  Considering it was her second time bringing it up, I couldn’t help but chuckle when I asked, “You real hyped about this pancake, aren’t you?”

  “Beyond hyped. A pancake the size of my face and a few mimosas will make for a very happy Savannah,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye and excitement in her tone that had me quick to hop aboard the pancake train.

  “Well, shit. The way you talkin’ about it already got me wanting to order the same thing so I can be a very happy Lincoln.”

  Instead of agreeing with me, she offered an alternative. “I’ll share my pancake with you if you order the sage fried chicken and waffles to share with me. That was my backup meal choice if, for whatever reason, I wasn’t feelin’ pancakes today.”

  Since chicken and waffles was usually my go-to brunch meal whenever I could get it, I told her, “You got a deal, shorty.”

  Satisfied with my response, we made the rest of the walk to the restaurant over small talk about Jennifer and Derek. And that conversation continued up until a waiter came by our table to take our drink orders, Savannah ordering the mimosa that was supposedly going to make her very happy as if her ass wasn’t already naturally bubbly.

  Adorable as hell.

  “I’ll just have a water,” I answered when the waiter asked for mine. And for the first time since I’d met her, I saw Savannah look slightly disappointed.

  Somehow, even her pouty face was attractive as she whined, “Oh, come on. You’re really gonna make me drink alone?”

  Just that easily, she had me changing my mind, telling the waiter, “Aight, fine. I guess I’ll take one of those little mimosas or whatever too.”

  Savannah pepped right back up, giggling when she asked, “Why’d you say it like that?”

  “Like what?”

  Mimicking my voice, she repeated, “Little mimosas or whatever, like you don’t know what it is?”

  “Because I don’t.”

  You would’ve thought I told her I didn’t know my ABCs considering how hysterical she got when she asked, “What?! Shut up. Are you serious, Lincoln?”

  Shrugging, I defended, “Not everybody gets drunk over breakfast food like you do, Vanny Marie.”

  I don’t know why I had a thing for calling her by her Instagram handle, but that shit had a nice little ring to it and she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, according to the smile she wore in response, she seemed to like hearing it just as much as I enjoyed saying it.

  Keeping her smile intact, she explained, “It's just champagne and orange juice.”

  “Sounds… not that great, honestly,” I admitted, lowkey regretting letting her talk me into ordering one.

  Still, even with my less than positive reaction, her support behind the drink didn’t waver as she leaned into the table to insist, “Well be prepared to have your mind blown because it’s fuckin’ amazing when done right.”

  Watching her pretty lips spew profanity had me smiling just as hard as she was, licking my lips before I told her, “I’m glad you took me up on my offer.”

  It may have only been breakfast, but something about being in Savannah’s presence just put me in a good ass mood; the light air about it all making me wish she really did live in our city so I could get more of it.

  More of her.

  “I’m glad you made one. Last night was a lot of fun.”

  I was quick to agree, “Most fun I’ve had in a minute. Thanks to your ol’ scary ass.”

  “You were screaming too, though!” she defended as the waiter came back with our drinks, setting two champagne flutes down in front of us.

  At first glance, I was tempted to send that shit right back. But instead, I followed Savannah’s food order with my own and then responded to our current conversation. “Damn right, I was screaming. That shit was wild. I swear they weren’t like that back when I was growing up. They really changed the game with that R-rated shit,” I told her before lifting my flute to my lips and trying a sip.

  With her own flute near her lips, Savannah watched me intently for a reaction. And while I wanted to tease her about never taking her advice again, I had to admit, “Okay, you were right. This shit is kinda fire.”

  I was already on my second gulp, taking down half the glass when she warned, “Don’t drink it too fast. That champagne will sneak up on you.”

  “Are we really doing Vegas right if we pace ourselves?” I countered, the devilish little grin on her face in response telling me everything I needed to know about how the rest of this trip was going to go.

  Lifting her flute, she met mine for a quick cheers as she replied, “Touché. Drink up, handsome.”

  Swallowing my sip, I teased, “Oh, I’m handsome now? You must be feelin’ the champagne in that mimosa already.”

  She was quick to gush, “Wow. I can’t even give you a compliment without you tryna blame it on the alcohol? You’re too humble, Lincoln.”

  While it wasn’t my first time hearing that, Savannah’s résumé made it easy for me to fire back, “I just know the fine ass owner of an award-winning salon and the mother of an award-winning superstar athlete is not talking about someone being too humble…”

  She blushed as she giggled, “Oh, you did some real research, I see. What else did you find during your cyberstalking?”

  Leaning into the table, I wasn’t ashamed to answer, “You were a beast on the track. Like… probably could’ve made it to the Olympics and shit if you would’ve stayed at it. So what happened?”

  If Savannah was a balloon, that question would’ve been the needle that popped her considering the way she sank back into her side of the booth with a frown, glaring down at her lap before she peeked up with saddened eyes to reply, “I... got pregnant.”

  “Oh,” was all I could respond, feeling bad about bringing it up since it was clearly a sore spot for her.

  She did her best to recover, sitting back up to agree, “Oh is right. I have no
regrets, though. As you probably learned from your research, I am one proud mama.”

  “As you should be. For her to already have a college scholarship offer as a freshman is nothing to sneeze at. She must’ve gotten those good athletic genes from you,” I complimented, hoping it would bring back her good mood.

  Slowly but surely, a halfhearted smile grew to her lips as she admitted, “It was a joint production. Her father was an incredible high jumper back in the day. I guess you could say she gets her hops and height from him.”

  “And her speed and agility from you, right?” I asked, appreciating the way she smirked in response before taking a sip of her mimosa.

  “Well look who’s giving all the compliments now. Must be the champagne talkin’...” she teased with a little giggle.

  Shaking my head, I told her, “Nah, it’s not the champagne. I saw the way you dipped out on the chainsaw man last night. Your stride was impeccable, shorty.”

  “Oh, shut up!” she squealed, tossing a hand at me across the table before she added, “We all have our irrational fears. Mine just happens to be getting my glorious limbs cut off with a chainsaw.”

  Irrational seemed like an understatement, but I wasn’t here to judge, instead doing my best to put her at ease about it when I insisted, “As long as you aren’t in the cartel or cartel-affiliated, I think you’re good, Vanny Marie.”

  “You think that. But you don’t know that.”

  With how convinced she seemed to be about the concept, I gave it a second thought myself, nodding as I agreed, “Touché,” just as the waiter showed up with our meals. And I wished I would’ve caught the candid picture of Savannah’s face when she saw just how big her pancake really was cause shorty was thrilled.