Queen of Love

Genevieve laughed. “I’ve missed your humor.”

Nyla’s movements slightly slowed.

“I meant that as a friend,” Genevieve said. “You know that.”

“Of course, xiaojie.”

“All right, that was uncalled for.” Yet Genevieve couldn’t fake being annoyed when Nyla called her “miss“ in such a cute tone. Like she used to call me when we were dating. That was so long ago now. Almost too long.

But, she had someone else occupying her thoughts now…

“You’ll be happy to know I’ve accomplished much in Japan,” Genevieve said. “Actually, I’m seeing someone right now.”

”Is that so? Congratulations.” Nyla finished her task and tossed the bin into its small storage cubby. “Do you want something to drink? We just got in that new rum you like.”

“No, thank you. I’m keeping it sober today.”

“Suit yourself. You know you get them for free, right?”

“I also have my own stash in the back I can have whenever I want.” Genevieve leveled her gaze on Nyla. “Or when you feel like sharing it with your wife.”

“I only did that once, and she’s not my wife.”

“How is she, by the way? Has she achieved her Taiwanese residency yet?”

Nyla rolled her eyes as she leaned against the bar. “You know she hasn’t. Even with all the money in the world, it takes a while. Besides… why talk about Terry when you can tell me more about this person you’re seeing. Are they Japanese?”

“Yes, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t let that rumor start. I’d like to be in control of it, assuming the relationship goes anywhere.”

“I don’t blab. It’s one of many reasons you’ve kept me on as your most prominent bartender.”

That and because I felt bad when we broke up. Nyla was a top-notch mixologist, though. She entertained the patrons and never forgot an order. Paradise was one of the few places in town that accepted tips, and Nyla was always swimming in them. For good reason. People saw in her what Genevieve had a few years ago when she first scouted Nyla in a bartending school. My bartending school. So what if it was a bit unorthodox…

“Yes, they’re Japanese,” Genevieve repeated. “Actually, it’s one of my real estate agents. You could say she knew a lot about the girl bar I bought.”

“Ah, I see. Tell me she’s closer to your age than mine.”

“You were a one-off, my dear. I don’t normally date them as young as you.”

“Uh-huh. That’s what you said when we started dating, and I still don’t believe you.”

“Anyway, she’s almost exactly my age. She’s quite the professional.”

“So professional she’s sleeping with a client?”

“Bold of you to assume we’re already… oh, whatever. Of course we are.”

“Of course you are.”

Genevieve always laughed whenever Nyla called her out like that. It’s how you know she’s a keeper. That was one of the things that had attracted her to the woman who was nearly fifteen years her junior the first time they met at a professional mixer put on by the bartending school. Nyla wasn’t merely pretty – she was feisty, opinionated, and confident. Three things Genevieve always wished she could be. I’m good at projecting that image, but terrible at actually feeling that way. She was envious of women like Nyla. Maybe not of the crazy shit they had been through to get where they were today, but Genevieve had no idea what her ex’s future would be like when they first met.

”Is she cute?” Nyla asked.

Genevieve couldn’t hide the way she swooned when thinking of Aya. “You could say that. Or you could say she’s hotter than sin.”

“Ooh, she must be butch.”

“You would know that about me.”