Resentment

KANDI'S WORLD, ATL (ACT IIII)

The Gypsy Tapas Bar, Atlanta, Georgia, September, 1997
9:30pm

One of the perks, of being as rich and as famous as Michael and Afia, was that waiting in line, wasn't a thing.

They'd never have to stand outside of clubs, or bars, or restaurants, plays or concerts, shivering in the cold, waiting to be ticked off of a list.

Michael, had in fact, never waited in line for anything.

They would be hurried past everybody else, quickly given the green light to go ahead.

Some people thought this way of life was egocentric.

Others, admired the glamour.

Being rich, was being abundant.

Where most people kept a close eye on their tab, Michael and Afia didn't even glance at the prices on menu's.

It was up to their accountant to scold them later if they'd overspent.

This, was the side of fame, that Michael appreciated.

He'd been called by The Gypsy Tapas bar, a concerning name for a bar in of itself, when the owners had heard he'd be visiting the city with his wife.

The manager of the place, had offered to close the rooftop terrace for Michael and Afia, and they could enjoy a meal and complimentary drinks all evening.

It was good publicity for the restaurant.

Great news for Michael's accountant, who loved when free things were offered.

The rooftop was stunning.

Warm lamps towered over the venue, shedding orange hazy light into the night.

The rooftop was large, and empty, creating an incredibly intimate atmosphere.

Pretty green plants fell over the edges of their wooden pots, dotted in alignment with the red plush sofas.

There were hanging bird cages, which reminded Michael of a strange little night garden.

Little black chairs and tables decorated the edge of the rooftop, pressed against the balcony, that overlooked a bustling night scene below.

Afia and Michael had dashed quickly out of their SUV, hurried between Wayne and Bill, as those inside of the bar on the ground level, began to shriek as they realised just who exactly was in front of them.

Michael and Afia didn't stop to say hello, but instead waved to calls of their name, as they jogged up the steps of the terrace.

Wayne and Bill, stood naturally at the other end of the terrace by the stairs, ensuring nobody would get up there, to harass the celebrity couple.

Michael removed his aviators, and glanced toward Afia.

There was a slight breeze, and her hair was bounding playfully in it.

She inhaled the fresh air, hoping it would clean her soul of the tears she'd cried in the car.

"You like it?" Michael asked her softly, chewing on his lip, and glancing away to select a perfect spot for them to sit.