“I’ll take seltzer with lemon on the side,” Dolce ordered.

“We only have regular water. No seltzer,” Alani said.

“What about bottled water? Does this dump have that?” Dolce asked.

“Two, regular waters are fine,” Ethic said. “Thank you.”

Alani rushed off to fix the drinks. Out of all the diners in the entire city, Ethic had waltzed into hers. She had thought of him so many times over the past few weeks that it was borderline obsessive. The hugs he gave out were like magic. It was the only thing that made her feel like she could breathe, after her daughter had died. She wished he could bottle them up and sell them because she would be his number one customer. She peered, discreetly, at the couple in the booth by the door and turned up her nose in contempt.

She ain’t even that pretty, she thought. She knew she was hating. Dolce was beyond pretty, she was gorgeous, and exactly the type of woman she would expect Ethic to have. She didn’t know why it angered her to see him with the light, bright, beauty queen. He ain’t your man. Let that nigga live, she told herself. Still, she was green with envy. Nigga’s always want to get them a little foreign piece when they get some paper. Her thoughts were fueling the fire in her chest. Alani rolled her eyes, as Dolce moved from her side of the table to be closer to Ethic. She filled the drinks and carried them over to the table, setting them down. She felt Ethic’s eyes on her, but she avoided looking at him. Clearly, he was out of her league; and even if he was fair game, she was in no shape to be thinking about a man. “Y’all ready to order?” she asked.

“I’ll just have the grilled chicken salad,” Dolce said.

“I’m good,” Ethic whispered.

“You’re not eating?” Dolce asked, as she bent her brow and then looked between Ethic and Alani.

“How have you been?” Ethic asked; again, ignoring Dolce. “And who’s Lenika?” he asked, as he rubbed his goatee and nodded toward her name tag.

“It’s my middle name,” she said. “Only my family and close friends call me Alani.”

“And me,” Ethic said.

She smirked. “You don’t call me much of anything, though. I’m just a customer, remember? Lenika will suit you just fine.” Alani looked at Dolce, before turning to walk away. “Your salad will be right out.”

“We’ll take it to go,” Ethic announced.

“To go?” Dolce protested. “I thought we were eating? Talking? What happened to that?”