**P**
At twenty-four, I ate, drank, and breathed medical school. In the morning, I immersed myself in my studies and by one in the afternoon, I helped athletes with vigorous recovery exercises. My dad, being the best attorney in Atlanta and all, called in a favor. I had my dream job with a top clinic near the Atlanta Falcons stadium.
I FaceTimed with my girls, Rayne and Sylvie, whenever I got a chance. Sometimes, we’d drink together on a call. This was one of those nights. I propped my phone against my rose azalée Birkin bag resting on the gray and white marble bar. The patrons throughout Bar Margot inside the Four Seasons hotel probably thought I was crazy.
Fuck it.
You only live once, right? My driver Brock who doubled as my bodyguard sat in a black tufted leather armchair at a round mahogany wooden table a few feet away. His dark brown dreads were pulled back into a neat ponytail. The vibrant, colorful tiger tattoo on the side of his neck stood out against his dark chocolate skin. Not to mention his muscled six two frame even in a suit said fuck off. If a motherfucker tried me, I’d knee him in the balls and let Brock handle the rest. It paid to be rich.
My father owned various businesses all over the world. Not to mention he was one of the top black corporate attorneys in the country. Our law firms could be found in all the big cities and across the pond. I never had to work. Daddy was so driven in everything he did business wise my brother and I were determined to be just as good if not better than him.
Yes, we were a black wealthy family and I wouldn’t apologize to anyone for our financial security. We had so much money, my kids, kids, kids wouldn’t have to work. Only other family in our neighborhood with wealth like ours was Maxon’s. They were billionaire’s, too. They had old money. My father was considered new money.
Rich people didn’t walk the streets alone unless they wanted to get kidnapped. Hence the bodyguard. Even the days Oak and I walked home together, Brock followed at a distance. He loved his job. No way would he sacrifice his income because two lusting teens desired time alone.
Earbuds secured in my ears; I sipped the last of the contents in my glass.
Sylvie’s big brown curls swayed over her shoulders as she danced to the beat of No Promises by Demi Lovato.
Rayne jumped up from the upscale bar at Sheer in downtown L.A. twirling, singing the lyrics.
“Rayne, this is your life.”
“No bitch, this is your life with Oak.”
Ignoring her words, I shook my ass to the beat. She was right, and I hated hearing the truth.
I sank into the tan plush and black suede chair as the song ended.
“Sylvie, where’s Tyler?”
“In the hotel room relaxing. Today was grueling in good old Augusta. We catered to five hundred business professionals at a pharmaceuticals conference. He needs sleep and I need a drink.”
We laughed.
“Sylvie, I wholeheartedly agree with you. My test was excruciating. Medicinal Chemistry is a bitch. I don’t want to think about metabolic products for at least two days,” I chuckled.
“Girl, I am so proud of you. Sylvie, can you believe our best friend will be a doctor in two years?” Rayne cheered.
Sylvie clapped, the fabric of her dress swaying all around her. “Yes!” I loved the cream sleeveless summer dress she wore.
Rayne loved tiny dresses. Mainly because Maxon complemented her every time. Sylvie and I believe she wore them for him. The one shoulder gray chiffon tight dress hugged her curves.
“I want that dress, Rayne.”
“Oh no, Lakelyn, I call dibs. That dress is fierce.”
Rayne stood and spun.
“Yes, work it, girl.” I snapped my fingers in the air twice.
“Lakelyn, let us sneak a peek. That black strappy off the shoulder, tiny dress is banging on you.”
I stepped back, pressing my index finger against my cheek, puckered my lips and glanced at the ceiling. My dark high ponytail swung to the side. “This old thing.” I kicked up the nude Christian Louboutin behind me.
“Let’s order another drink.” I tapped the counter, gaining the bartender's attention. My eyes marveled at the top shelf selection of wine and liquor encased by glass.
“Sylvie, put that drink down and wait.”
The gold step bar gave me a little height as I leaned on my elbow over the bar under the silver decorative light fixtures.
She chuckled, flashing her pearly whites. The purple eyeshadow popped against her dark skin.
“Bee, I’ll have another Georgia...”
“...peach martini,” the familiar deep vocals swept through my body in waves.
Don’t make eye contact, Lakelyn.
My smile diminished.
Sylvie and Rayne didn’t notice. They were too busy dancing.
“And what would you like to drink, sir?”
“Johnny Walker blue neat.”
“Coming right up.” Bee glanced at me. “He’s cute,” she mouthed.
I smiled. Bella Shepard was a great bartender. I preferred to frequent the bar when she worked. Before I transferred to Emory University, we attended Georgia State University during undergrad. We’d taken a few courses together. Our conversations were chill.
He leaned over my shoulder, grinning at the screen. I stared at him longer than I should’ve.
No wonder Bee didn’t recognize him. The Atlanta Falcons baseball cap and dark sunglasses hid his identity. The entire bar would go bat shit crazy if they knew who was in their presence.
“Wyatt,” the girls screamed. He couldn’t hear them, but I felt every vibration in their voices.
He yanked an earbud out of my ear and placed it in his.
“Hey Rayne, Sylvie.” He cocked a grin.
I glanced at my bodyguard. He was chatting with Wyatt’s muscle, Fosco. His body guard scared most normal people too. His thick neck, unusually thick brown brows and tall brooding frame said he didn’t play games. He kept his brown hair cut low. His sinister blue eyes screamed he was ready to knock out anyone who tried him.
“Still following, Lakelyn, I see.” Rayne shook her head.
“Maxon, wasn’t supposed to tell you.”
My heart skipped a beat and my stomach swirled.
He followed me? Like what did that even mean?
“Best friends don’t keep secrets from each other.” She winked.
“All right, girls, I’ll talk to you both in a little while.”
“No, don’t abandon us for Oak,” Sylvie raised her fist and squinted.
“Love you, too. Bye.” He ended the call by double tapping the earbud.
“We were having fun. Why did you intervene? This was our girl time.”
He pushed the earbud back into my ear and sat in the chair beside me. I shivered against his hand. His monstrous muscled frame was intimidating to most. Not me.
“Are you alright? Cold?”
I felt my nipples pebble against the tight fabric.
“I’m fine.” When I wasn’t dreaming about upcoming tests, Oak was the star. In my dreams, he and my brother weren’t best friends. We were free to be a couple.
He grabbed a toothpick and tucked it in the corner of his lips.
My eyes combed his solid frame. The man was an impeccable dresser. The top two buttons of his heather gray dress shirt were open, and the sleeves were rolled up, halting beneath his elbows. The sharp teeth on his tattoo peeked out. His dark jeans hugged his muscled thighs. My eyes landed on his brown leather Salvatore Ferragamo Oxfords. God, I loved his shoe game.