I bite my lip to hold back my growl of impatience and wait for him to finish.
“Ohhh. I see. This is…different for you,” he finally says.
“Different good or different bad?” I ask, fretting now.
“Very good. Are you going on a date? I’ve never seen you wear anything likethisto work.”
“I’m going to a private fundraiser and I want to make a certain man swallow his tongue when he sees me.”
“In that dress, he’ll probably swallow yours, too. Ten out of ten.”
I shake my hips in triumph. “Oh thank fuck. I don’t have time to change.” I run to the closet to grab my shoes.
“What about the rest of you?”
“I got my makeup done and I’m wearing a pair of black sling back Aquazzura’s.”
“Can’t wait to find out who was worth this effort.”
“I’m worth the effort. He’s just collateral damage,” I quip.
The crunch of wheels in my driveway makes my heart skip a beat “Oh shit, hold on. I think the car is here.”
“You hired a car?”
“Something like that.”
I pull back the long white curtain covering my living room window and peer outside and gawk at the black Rolls Royce pulling to a stop in my driveway.
“Never mind. Just someone turning around.”
I walk back to the mirror, grab my lip gloss out of my purse to touch it up. God, my makeup looks amazing. Kwame may not be thinking about kissing me tonight, but I’ll make sure he thinks about it so much he chokes.
Just a little.
The slam of a car door wipes the self-satisfied smile of my face. I drop the lip gloss and hustle back to the window.
“Woah.” I gawk at the tall man in a dark suit with a monochromatic black shirt, tie and gloves. From here he could bethe man who held a gun inmy face.My blood runs cold, and the phone slips out of my hand.
The clatter shakes me out of my fear frozen state and I pick up my phone. “Hey, I have to go.”
“What happened?”
“I dropped the phone.” I hit the wall safe with my palm and it springs open. I pull out the heavy black pistol I’ve only taken out for a couple of trips to the practice range. I check the clip but keep the safety on.
“I’ve really got go, Adonis. I’ll call you back.”
“You better or I’ll be on my way over there to find you.”
“Love you, bye,” I add speaking over his protest.
I disconnect the call and with trembling hands open my phone’s keypad and key in 9-1-1. I crouch under my window, my heart and mind racing.
What are the chances that I’d be burgled at home twice in one year in two different cities.
The short, sharp knock on my front door almost makes me pee myself. The are lights on everywhere, but if I’m quiet maybe he’ll think I’m not here and leave.
My phone buzzes in my hand and I look down, ready to decline the call.
