Carson dapped up a few people he knew along the way, promising to meet up with them later before we settled into a small booth. Carson sat on one side, and I sat on the other.

“Our Super Bowl champions will be making an appearance in thirty minutes!” the DJ announced, making the crowd erupt in screams and cheers.

I don’t know why a rush of adrenaline shot through me. I didn’t watch football. If it wasn’t for the jersey I had on, I couldn’t name one player from the Warhawks. Still, I was excited to see the team. Tonight was all about enjoying the experience.

“I’ll get us some drinks. What do you want?” Carson asked as he stood from the booth.

“Um... just a water for now, please,” I said.

Carson looked at me funny before nodding and walking off toward the bar. I quickly placed my phone on the table and shot Lo a text.

Me:

At the official team after party.

Lo:

How is he? Is he cool?

Me:

He’s okay. I’m having fun.

Lo:

Did you see your bitch ass baby daddy.

Me:

No, thank God!

He blocked my number

Lo:

Hollywood Tea Room!

I rolled my eyes at Lo’s response as Carson returned with our drinks.

“So, you cut hair?” Carson asked as he took his seat.

We hadn’t gotten to talk much during the game. He’d mostly hung out with his friends while I hung out with the wives.

“Yes. I’m a licensed barber,” I replied with a smile.

“You own a barbershop?” he asked with his eyebrows raised.

“No. My best friend owns the beauty salon. She braids, and I cut hair.” I was proud of my career. There was a time when I had no clue what I wanted to do, but the moment I picked up the clippers, I knew that was my path.

“Oh,” he said dryly. His tone was giving unimpressed. “You got any celebrity clients?”

“I have a few athletes and rappers, but most of my clients are regular people.”

“And you make a good living off of that? Aren’t haircuts like twenty dollars?”

“Excuse you⁠—”

“Carson Thomas!” A tall man in a team jacket approached our table, stopping me from leaving. I dare him try to comment on my career path and count my pockets.

“Anthony Day!” Carson yelled back, standing to greet the man.

“Do you have a minute?” he asked. Carson looked back at me and then back at his friend.

“Do you mind, Phileigh?”

I stared at him. I was still pissed at his statement. It was probably best that he got out of my face.

“Go ahead.” I waved him off. “I have to go the bathroom anyway.”

I stood from the table.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a minute,” Carson said before walking off with the gentleman.