Preacher's Kid|MJ

Interlude VI

THREE YEARS AGO...

Meechie 👀

Today 6:27 PM

Meechie, it's been well over 20 minutes that I've been waiting on you. If you not here in 30 secs, I'm leaving.

Irish sighed exasperatedly, staring at the screen of her phone and waited for the three dots to appear at the bottom left corner. She called and messaged Michael more than she should have after waiting minutes on end for him to arrive. For their first date, he sure as hell was making a bad first impression, and she was on the verge of leaving. Just as she was about to lock her phone, it chimed. She picked it up and read his response. She smacked her lips annoyed at the fact he had ample opportunity to reply to at least one of her messages if not answer any of her calls. She wasn't trying to be one of those girls that nagged but first impressions were everything and as of right now, he was screwing up.

Meechie 👀

Today 6:27 PM

Meechie, it's been well over 20 minutes that I've been waiting on you. If you not here in 30 secs, I'm leaving.

6:29 PM

I'm legit pullin up rn as we speak.

I'm sorry.

She didn't care to waste the mobility of her thumbs to type a response. Instead, she waited for him to pull up like he claimed he was doing. Within seconds, the reverberations of a bass sound system was heard nearing the parking lot. She glanced out of her non-tinted windows to see the matte black Audi Q7 Prestige S-Line SUV parking right next to her navy blue Ford Focus. She watched him out the corner of her eyes stepping out of the vehicle looking good as hell. Just one look at him almost made her forget why she was even mad. His hair was styled in the slickest ponytail, showing so much of his Cherokee roots he inherited from his mother's side of the family through his features.

His attire consisted of a khaki cargo vest with matching pants, a plain white tee and all white Ralph Lauren Heritage Court II leather sneakers. He donned a pair of diamonds in his ears, a 14 karat white gold Marquise Diamond Eternity Weave necklace and two platinum rings on his right index and pinky fingers. On his left wrist was a custom platinum Audemars Piquet watch. He was iced out and it had Irish biting the corner of her lower lip. She was in a trance enamored by such sexiness and richness she never once thought in all the twenty-three years of living she would have a date with. She wasn't the baddest female—pretty would be her rank—but she was bad enough to make it this far with just her pretty face alone. She wouldn't say it's a flex, but on the outside looking in it surely was. Both good and bad.

She already had her phone in hand, so she grabbed her keys and exited the car, forcing Michael to take a step back to make room for her to get out. His russet eyes scanned over her slim physique, and she looked good in her strapless denim two-piece jumpsuit and nude heels. Her hair was styled beautifully in waves and her makeup was on point. Thinking back to the first night he met her at the club, he didn't get much of a good look at her in full, just her face. But when he saw her again at The Boulevard, he got lucky. Today, he got even luckier.

"You look good as hell," he complimented, licking his lips with his eyes scanning over her once more. They eventually locked eyes. Those insane amber eyes that ensorcelled him.