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I bite my lower lip. Pull in a deep breath as I shake my head. “No, like what?”
“Like, uh, maybe you fucked the nigga and he done went cuckoo for the cootie.”
“Well, it’s obvious the nigga’s a kook. But trust me. It has nothing to do with getting the pussy. I haven’t fucked one nigga since Jasper’s been locked up. So that’s definitely not the issue.”
“My God,” she says, flopping back in her seat, “then this makes the shit even crazier.”
“You’re telling me.” I lift my cup to my lips, take another slow, deliberate sip, then silently exhale, thinking: How the fuck am I going to avoid Jasper until my face heals?
TWENTY-SIX
“Hey, baby, I have to go outta town for a few days.”
“Outta town? For what?”
I didn’t get any sleep, stressing myself over how I was going to keep Jasper from seeing my face so I wouldn’t have to explain—or lie, I should say—to him about what happened. It wasn’t until Felecia left here about an hour ago that a plan hatched in my head. I immediately called Felecia to get her on board with my scheme.
“Bitch, you’re crazy. I can’t rush off to L.A.,” she huffed. “Who’s gonna look after the shop?”
“Nakea will,” I told her as I looked online for airline tickets. “I already woke her ass up and told her I needed her to handle things down at the salon for a few days.” Nakea is one of our cousins from Philly who owns The Pussy Palace—an upscale erotic sex toy store. She also owns a condo in the Tribeca section of Manhattan where she stays three days out of the week.
“A few days? What’s ’a few days?’”
“We’ll be back on Sunday.”
She grunted. “Mmmmph. And what did you have to do for Nakea to agree to all this?”
“Nothing,” I stated.
“Lies!” she snapped. “I love her to death. But ’Kea is about making paper and she ain’t doing shit unless it’s gonna benefit her. So spill it.”
“I agreed to host a sex toy party at the salon.”
“And?”
I laughed. “And I guaranteed her at least a thousand dollar in sales; even if I have to buy everything myself.”
She laughed. “I knew it.”
“Now I need you to go with me; it’s the only way Jasper will believe me. Don’t make me beg your ass.”
“Bitch, you make me sick,” she huffed. “I wanna window seat and a raise. And Saturdays off.”
I laugh. “Done,” I told her, knowing she was going to have my back. “And for an extra bonus, I’ll buy you a few pieces on Rodeo Drive.”
She laughed. “Well, in that case. Book my damn flight.” I joined in her laughter, relieved that she would be my alibi.
“Felecia and I are going to look at wedding dresses.”
“Wedding dresses? Where?”
“L.A.,” I tell him, holding my breath. In my mind’s eye I can see him through the phone frowning.
“What the hell you goin’ way out there to look at dresses for when the city’s right across the bridge? You can get all the hottest shit right there in Manhattan.”
He’s right. And I know exactly where I’m going—Madison Avenue to one of the boutiques. “Yeah, true. But I wanna go look. Besides, I want some real ex
clusive shit.”
