Page 138 of Chosen By a Baller 3: Playin’ For Keeps

His laugh followed me down the aisle.

I grabbed a few things I actually needed, then moved over to the brushes. I was looking through them when Kyrie picked one up beside me.

His eyes dropped to the price.

“Thirty fucking dollars?”

“It’s a good brush.”

“Good?” His face twisted as he turned it over in his hand. “For thirty dollars, this muthafucka better read your mind, dip itself in the paint, and put whatever the fuck you thinking on the canvas.”

A laugh burst out of me before I could stop it.

“Kyrie!”

“The fuck?” He held the brush up. “I’m serious. Thirty dollars for this little ass shit?”

“You spend more than thirty dollars on dumb shit all the time.”

“That ain’t the point.”

“That’s exactly the point.”

“Nawl.” He put the brush back like it had personally offended him. “Ain’t no damn brush supposed to cost thirty dollars.”

Still laughing, I grabbed the same brush and put it into the basket.

Kyrie looked down at it.

“Sianni.”

“What?”

“You just put that thirty-dollar brush in there after everything I just said?”

“Yup.”

His eyes narrowed. “And guess who paying for it?”

“You.”

He stared at me.

I smiled.

“Love you, Big Daddy.”

“Man, fuck you.”

I burst out laughing as he took the basket from me anyway.

We continued through the store with Kyrie questioning damn near everything I picked up. Every few minutes, he wanted to know what something was for, why I needed it, or why one version cost more than another.

As much shit as he talked, though, he was actually listening when I explained it. That was probably my favorite part.

We eventually made our way over to the canvases, and I started looking through the different sizes when Kyrie stopped beside me.

“So, what size you normally use?”