Read Online Between Friends by D. L. Sparks - Free Book Online

getting late. I didn’t think you were gonna make it.”
    I cut my eyes for a second and I saw Dionne placing drinks on a tray in front of me. She hollered across the bar and asked me if I could run them to a table because apparently Marissa put the order in and had forgotten about them. I nodded before I turned my attention back to Lincoln.
    He tilted his head and smiled. “So you got me punchin’ a clock?”
    I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed. “I didn’t mean it like that. How was your day?”
    He leaned back onto one of the empty stools. “Man, it’s been a crazy day. Did you hear about them findin’ that chick with her throat cut?”
    I picked up the tray off the counter. “Yeah, we were talking about it earlier. Does it have anything to do with your case?”
    Before he could answer, his phone lit up on his hip. His hand instinctively went to grab it. He nodded toward the crowd. “Go ’head and handle yo business. Let me get this. We’ll talk when you get back.”
    I grabbed the tray off the counter and waded my way through the dense crowd of drunks and half-naked women gyrating to yet another song with a long list of promises of satisfaction in bed.
    As I set the drinks in front of the customers, I looked up at the bar where Linc was standing covering one ear with his free hand and using the other to hold his phone. He was having what appeared to be an intense conversation. I watched his lips moving as he pressed his phone against his ear. His goatee was perfectly manicured against his chocolate skin. He had just got a fresh cut, his line-up was sharp, and he looked damn good. The lights from the bar bounced off his Breil Milano watch, drawing attention to the tattoo on his forearm. That watch was my Christmas gift to him last year.
    A voice snapped me out of my peep session. I looked at the table of people, reacting as if they had just appeared out of nowhere.
    â€œHuh? I’m sorry. What did you say?”
    The female sitting directly across from me had attitude written all over her overdone face. Her fake lashes were so long and thick; honestly, I was surprised she could even see the drink to pick it up. She slid her martini glass back across the round table toward me.
    â€œI said, I asked for a Cotton Candy martini. That’s not what this is,” she snapped.
    I cocked my head and leaned in a little closer, because now I had an attitude. “Excuse me?”
    â€œThere ain’t hardly any liquor in this. I ain’t paying seven dollars for a glass of flavored water.”
    The guys she was with laughed, but the other lone female tried to get her to chill out. “It ain’t that serious, Princess, dang. Why you always gotta try to get loud?”
    Princess? Seriously? This weaved-up bitch’s name was Princess. It took all I had in me to maintain my owner persona, because I really wanted to cuss her out and toss the drink I was holding in her face.
    â€œYou want something else?” I asked.
    â€œNo, I want the drink I asked for,” she snapped, rolling her big fish eyes.
    I stopped and glared at her for a second. “I’ll send a waitress over with a new drink.” I took the glass and headed back toward the bar.
    I slammed the glass down on the counter. “Dionne, I need another Cotton Candy martini, heavy on the liquor, please, and this time make sure Marissa does her damn job and takes it over there.”
    Dionne took the glass and dumped its contents and started mixing another one. “What they say?” she asked.
    I just shook my head. “Don’t ask.” I looked around. “Have you seen Lincoln? He was just standing here.”
    She nodded toward the back. “He headed back toward your office a few minutes ago.”
    Dionne’s milk chocolate skin was glowing with perspiration under the lighting of the bar. Her short naturally curly haircut fit her face