The Billionaire's Brother's Baby

1) people do this all the time

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"I feel like . . . like I'm too old to be in a club."

My heels drag against the smooth pavement, my bag tight between my fingers. I pulled up my dress, the cotton material doing nothing to protect me from the harsh wind, and Vee insisted that I hold my leather jacket on one side of my shoulder - for styling reasons.

"You see - that's the same shit I was trying to avoid," Vee stops walking and places a hand on her hip, her lips tightly pressed together.

I turn around to face her, holding both hands out.

"What do you mean? I'm not trying to rain on your parade but -"

"Girl I get it, you're old, and washed up, and tired,"

Vee's hoops slap against her face as she talks. She always used so many expressions, that's how I knew she was genuinely upset.

That and the fact that she called me washed up, and old.

"Veronica!"

"But I asked for one night. One night. I haven't seen you in so long -"

"We live together."

"You're always working, and I just . . . I miss my sister. I miss dancing with her, and scamming men at the bar.  So can we just please, enjoy a few hours outside and then we can go home."

She's trying to guilt trip me. And like usual, it worked.

I guess it would be a waste of money, and a psychology degree if it didn't.

I tilt my head at my little sister, before staring at our surroundings. I mean we were already here, in the parking lot of a club that we've never been to before. I may as well just entertain her idea of bonding.

I let out a breath.

Truthfully, at my 26 years of age, there was nothing more that I wanted than to be under my covers right now. 

I wondered if I would be the oldest in this club, or if people would be able to tell.

I don't know. It's just been so long since I've done this, it didn't feel the same.

"Okay, but of all places did you have to choose here? From the cars alone I can tell that these people, aren't our people."

"Come on," she takes my hand, "I figured your days for run down clubs with no air conditioning was over."

Vee pushes open the door to the club, and we're bombarded by white.

White walls, white sparkly lights, white marble tiles. I squint my eyes, placing a hand over them and Vee sucks her teeth.

"What in the world . . ." She murmurs.

The decor wasn't the only thing that was white. I'm pretty sure, besides the employees, that we were the only black participants.

"What . . . The fuck did you get me into?"

I'll give them credit for the mere fact that they didn't stare us down as we expected. We knew that it would've been a lot to ask for - to be treated like people, but I won't go there.

"I - it's a sophisticated club!" She defends, but the pitch in her voice told me she was just as overwhelmed as I was.

But as stubborn as Vee was, she straightened her shoulder, and tightened her grip around my hands. She put on her smile, and brought us towards the bar.