“Goodnight F–”
“Laurence.”
“Goodnight, Laurence,” I sighed.
“Goodnight. Drive safely.”
“Sure.”
He reached over me, pulling my seatbelt across my body. Once he secured it, he stood tall.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Dinner at eight.”
I didn’t have the chance to respond. He slammed the door and took off toward the old school Chevy, candy apple red with sparkly paint that glistened in the dark. Silently, I watched as he hopped inside and took off–uninterested in the parking lot party that the clubbers had managed to create.
He’s dangerous. Steer clear, bitch.
I peered over in the passenger seat, fully expecting to share my thoughts with Saga. Unfortunately, my girl was out.
A night well-spent.
I twirledin the dressing room, loving the two-piece set. It was backless. Strapless. And hugged my body like a nigga fresh out of the pen.
I grabbed the tag, unsure of how much it cost. The three digits before the decimal made my head spin. I inhaled deeply as I stared at myself in the mirror. There was no way I was shelling out one hundred and ten dollars for the pants and one hundred dollars for the top.
I shook my head at the idea as I began peeling the outfit from my frame. I opened my purse and shoved the rest of the garments I’d been collecting to the side in search of the buzzer remover Saga had snagged from her retail job. I clipped the first buzzer with ease. It was the one on the shirt that gave me trouble.
“Ugh,” I murmured, growing frustrated with the device after only a few seconds of failure.
“Ma’am, is everything alright? Are the pieces fitting you well?”
Fuck.
The older woman who was riding my coattail offered her assistance for the fourth time.
“I can get more sizes if you need me to.”
“Everything is fine, thank you.”
“Oh good. Is there anything you’d like me to take out of your way?”
“No thanks!” I yelled through the dressing room.
“I’ll be here if you need me.
There.
The buzzer popped. However, it was much louder than I intended. My heart sank at the realization that the clerk hadn’t exited the dressing room. Her heels halted on the tiled floor. I squeezed my eyes together. The skin of my face pinched in the center.
“Shit!” Saga called out. “I’ve broken this damn hanger.”
Relief washed over me. My girl was a fitting room away, but was still on point.
“Is everything okay?” The employee asked again.
“I’m fine,” I assured her.
“Well, not you. It seems as if another customer is in distress.”
