Donnya does not like Ezra, so he books himself a tea party at her tea house to get her attention. It is supposed to be a romantic gesture. Hope to be done at the beginning of April April, at which point I will harass most of you with ARCs.





I walk into Donnya’s looking like…well, hopefully a Ken doll, since she dates well-groomed men in nice clothes. I want to be her type. If that means button-ups instead of black t-shirts, I can live with that. She meets me at the entrance in a formal green dress and a tiara, flawless makeup, and her long, thick black hair pulled into a neat bun. She’s beautiful. For whatever reason, the princess look really suits her. It seems natural for her, not like playing dress-up.
“Hi,” I smile at her. She looks up at me slightly. At six-three, I only have her by a couple of inches, so she must have on heels. Two additional princesses come flank both her sides, confusion on their faces.
“What the cuss are you hecking doing, Ezra? What is all this? Where are the little girls?” She looks at all the grown men behind me, arms out in exasperation. That’s the cutest ass-chewing I’ve ever gotten.
“It’s my party. I’m the birthday boy. Can you please show us to the party room, your highness?” I bow to her. She moves her hands to her hips, and levels me with a stern look. “I promised my mother pictures. Don’t let your perceived prejudice against men who like tea parties, cause my mother a moment of heartache. I’d hate to leave a review stating that Donnya’s House of Tea is unaccommodating and unfriendly to certain customers, even when they book the best party package and spend a grand on tea and sandwiches.”
“Ezra, if you are trying to mess with my money…,” she starts to threaten me. “You better not be trying to mess with my money, Ezra.” Her voice drops an octave. I shrug indifferently.
“Right this way, sir. Gentleman, please follow me.” Torn between her desire to provide excellent customer service, and her confusion and anger towards me, she plasters on a smile and leads the way. We follow her in a hoard as instructed.
“Ezra, you get to sit in the hot pink princess chair at the head of the table.” She gestures toward it. “And gentleman. You can sit anywhere on either side of the table. I didn’t have any names to make place cards, so the choice is yours.” She waits for us to be seated.
“It’s really beautiful in here, Donnya. I like the floral cups and saucers. Can you lean in so I can take a selfie with you to send my mom?” I adjust myself in the hot pink throne, so I’m closer to her. To my absolute shock, she obliges. I hold my arm out and snap our picture.
“That little gold bell is for you, Ezra.” She points a French-manicured fingernail at it. “Whenever you’d like anything…raspberry tea or lemonade, a sandwich, more cake, you just ring the little bell and I will personally come serve you.” We’ll see about that. I don’t see me being able to summon her with a bell. That’s probably how it works for anyone who’s not me.
“Can I get a bell, darling, so you can come over here and service me when I ring it?” Some fool I don’t know and shouldn’t have invited, asks Donnya from my left. She smiles at the man, but gives him a don’t-fuck-with-me look.
“Only the birthday boy gets a bell,” she says to him, before walking over to grab a tray of sandwiches. The other two princesses follow suit. One I recognize as our waitress, Katie.
“Hey!” I whisper-yell at my rude guest. “You better cut that shit out.” He gives me a glassy-eyed, faux innocent look. I hadn’t noticed the bright-red skin or glassy eyes before. He’s wasted. I again regret inviting randoms from a bar. I shoot my mom the cute picture of me and Donnya. It’s going to be my screen saver for everything as soon as I get home. My mom Facetime requests me. I answer, while Donnya and the other princesses fill the cups with either lemonade or raspberry iced tea.
“Hey,” I answer her call. Her big blue eyes, California sun-tanned skin, and pink lipstick fill the screen.
“Who was that in the picture?” She asks.
“Donnya. She’s hosting my tea party, right now.”
“Oh, I see.” She smirks. “She kind of reminds me of someone.” Her brows draw together as she tries to make a connection.
“Jackie Freeman, the supermodel?” I help her out.
“Yes, they look almost exactly the same!”
“That’s her daughter.”
“No! Is she single?”
“I think so. Why don’t I call her over here so you can verify that for me?” It will be harder for Donnya to resist my mom than it is for her to resist me.