Page 6 of Hired By My Rich Baby Daddy

“And did. Listen, sis, you don’t take enough chances for me. We only have one life to live, and with how talented you are, I just…” She paused. “I really want you to be around one of your biggest inspirations. Your voice, girl? It’s angelic. I know you only sing and write songs for fun now, but this could help put you where you’ve always wanted to be.”

I paused with the bottle in my hand and sighed.

Nourah had always been my biggest fan when it came to my singing, but I honestly felt like that ship had sailed.

Singing didn’t pay my bills.

I had spent years trying to be seen. I went to open mic nights, signed up for karaoke contests, recorded myself singing covers, and even shot my own music videos with money straight out of my pockets.

Nothing ever came from it besides shares, reposts, and a bunch of compliments. I didn’t make any money off it, blow up, or none of that. I tried…but it is what it is.

Years passed, the passion faded, and eventually, I left that dream where it was.

Now, I worked at a private early-learning academy, teaching children between the ages of four and six. I had started there years ago as a teacher’s aide and eventually worked my way up to having my own classroom.

It wasn’t singing, but I loved working with children. The position paid my bills, funded my lifestyle, and gave me a sense of purpose. As a single woman with no children of my own, I was content with the life I’d built.

“Nourah…” I sighed.

She cut me off. “I know you don’t like talking about it, so I’ma leave it alone. Just know that gift of yours is special.”

“Okay.” I nodded, soaking in her words. “Well, I appreciate that, annnd…” I poured my shot. “I have my drink ready, so thank you again for celebrating with me. Turn uppp!”

“Yes, bitch! Turn uppp!” she shouted through the phone.

I downed the shot of Cazadores Reposado, and it burned immediately.

Nourah and I were only three and a half years apart, but we were close as hell. She was a little slimmer than me, with smooth caramel skin that she got from our mama, while my brown skin came from our daddy. One thing our mama had given us both, though, was a whole lot of fluffiness.

Thick thighs, figure-eight bodies, and high cheekbones.

Nourah was a straight shooter. She never held back and could be a little rough around the edges, but underneath all that mouth, she was a sweetie.

Me? I was, simply put, a sweetie with just a small sprinkle of feistiness.

She hated that I sometimes shut down or allowed people to walk over me, but I was a work in progress.

We both loved getting our hair done, and you could catch us in a buss-down middle part or a side-part lace wig, but my all-time favorite was a sleek bun. Nourah hated buns. She said they made her feel like she was back in the ninth grade, which always cracked me up. I thought they were classy and fit my chubby face just right. I was tatted the fuck up because I liked expressing myself that way, while Nourah only had one on her arm and said it hurt so bad she was one and done.

I was shorter at five-five, while she stood at five-eight, looking like a whole model. That was my bookie butt until the end of time.

We were two peas in a pod and would do just about anything for each other.

“Whew!”

I placed my hand over my mouth to keep it down because, honestly, I was all tapped out on liquor. We had been drinking before the concert and had a few more drinks once we got inside.

“That’s my last damn shot.”

I put the top back on the bottle, returned it to its spot, and placed the glass in the sink.

Nourah yawned.

“Okay, I just got home. Let me get up in here and lay it on down. I have to clock in at eight in the damn morning. Hopefully, I hear my alarm, but that’s the benefit of working from home. I be lying, saying I’m having technical difficulties,” she admitted, and we both laughed.

“I’m right behind you, trust me. Goodnight, boo. I’ma call you on your lunch break tomorrow. Ree-Ree with the good coochie is officially signing off.”

“Girl, get off my phone.” Nourah laughed harder.