Phil kissed her mother’s soft cheek. “I love you, Mom,” she whispered.
Despite ordering herself not to cry, her cheeks were soaked by the time she backed her truck out of the parking space.
“Why even bother with a bra?”
Phil twisted around, her hand still in her underwear drawer. “What’s that supposed to mean? Just because I don’t have giant pregnant-woman boobs, that doesn’t mean my girls can just go free.”
Pulling a tissue from the box she’d brought with her, Mya blew her nose with one hand and pointed at Phil with the other. “Jamal would appreciate your girls a lot more if they were not bound.”
“Are you taking something for that cold?” Phil asked, ignoring her friend’s base, although probably true, statement.
“Can’t.” Mya pointed to the beach ball she seemed to be hiding underneath her stylish running suit. She adjusted the pillows stacked up against the headboard, then grabbed the potato chip bag and stuffed a chip in her mouth. “Do you know where he’s taking you to eat?”
“I’m not sure.” Phil exchanged the light gray slacks she’d taken out for a pair of dark blue jeans. “I told him I was in the mood for seafood.”
“Oh, that sounds good,” Mya said, moaning. “Maybe he’ll take you to Commander’s Palace, or Galatoire’s.”
“No way,” Phil said.
“You wanna bet?” Mya asked. “Jamal doesn’t do things halfway. He’s loaded. And when I say loaded, I meanloaded.”
“I don’t care,” Phil said. “First of all, it’s afirstdate. It would be just plain rude to accept some fancy dinner. And secondly, he’s currently my employer.”
“Not tonight,” Mya said.
“And thirdly,” Phil said over her, “I don’t want him thinking that he can get payment in another form in return for an expensive meal.”
“Must I remind you that getting a little action down there would not be a bad thing for you? Unfortunately, Jamal isn’t the kind of guy who’d take advantage of you. He’s one of the good ones.”
Phil looked up and caught Mya’s eyes in the mirror. “I think so too,” she said. She let out an exasperated breath and plopped down on the bed. “I really like him, Mya.”
“Aw, honey, that’s a good thing,” Mya said, rubbing Phil’s back. “Why do you look as if you lost your favorite toy?”
Phil drew comfort from the concern she heard in her best friend’s voice. How many times had this scenario played out between them when they were teenagers? Mya trying to ease Phil’s worries over some boy.
“I just don’t want to get hurt,” she finally admitted.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Mya tossed the bag of chips onto the bed and scooted over to her side. She wrapped her arms around Phil’s shoulders and gave her a sisterly squeeze. “If I ever meet that Kevin person, I will kick his ass.”
Phil snorted a laugh. “You’d have to get in line.”
“Forget about him.” Mya brushed a wayward curl from her brow. “Tonight is about starting over, and Jamal is an excellent person to start with.”
“God, I hope you’re right.” Phil sighed.
“He is. Just give him a chance.”
Giving Mya another hug, Phil got up from the bed and stepped into her jeans. She pulled on a silky halter top with a ribbon of sequins that sat just below her breasts. It wasn’t her usual style, and completely wrong for October, but it was unseasonably warm this year and would probably be even warmer in the jazz club.
She slipped into a pair of super-high heels—an impulse buy—and turned when Mya let out a high-pitched whistle.
“I cannot wait to see Jamal’s face when he picks you up.”
“What’s the big deal?” Phil asked.
“You! Look at you! You look like you belong on a damn runway. Tight jeans, a sexy top, and the fiercestfuck meheels I’ve ever seen.” Mya pointed an accusing finger at her. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Phylicia Phillips. You are trying to drive that man out of his mind.”
“No, I am not,” Phil protested, turning to the cheval mirror that had been in her family for generations. She looked over her shoulder at Mya and admitted, “Well, maybe a little.”
