The wordgirlfriendhit dead center. I think the baby in my stomach even felt that blow. Still, I nodded anyway.
“Nice to meet you, Paris.”
“Likewise,” she said, dismissing me with the same tone you’d use to wave off a fan.
She moved to stand at his side and cupped his face with her hand, forcing him to look at her. He had to tilt his head way down—she barely came to his chest.
“We have a strict schedule today, baby. No time to entertain groupies… and the help.”
Amber’s weight shifted immediately. She stepped in front of me with intention. She already knew I was about to pop this bitch—pregnant or not. Just like at Gage’s penthouse, she became my barrier. Protective. Probably because of the precious cargo I was now carrying.
Don’t get it twisted though—baby or not, Amber would slide a bitch for me… and I’d do the same for her.
“What this carrot-top, used Q-tip lookin’ ass bitch say?” Amber asked, voice steady but her eyes wild.
“Amber, please.” My eyes widened like the Grand Canyon.
Paris, now standing directly in front of Gage, crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side. “Is there a problem?”
“Nah, ain’t no problem. But there’s ‘bout to be a murder,” Amber said, pulling her earrings off. I knew it was go-time the second she reached for one of the ponytail holders she always kept on her wrist.
“Wait!” I called out, arms stretched wide like a damn referee. “There’s no problem. I’d just like a moment with Gage.” I kept my voice calm. “If that’s okay with you, Gage.”
“Whatever you have to say to him, you can say tous,” Paris insisted, motioning between her and Gage with nails longer than her list of goals.
Amber took every step forward she could, getting right in Paris’s face. “Say what now?”
Gage stepped between them, holding up both hands. “Paris, it’s cool. Give us a minute, okay? Mahasin is an old friend.”
Old friend?This man was just filling me up like a Twinkie, eating my pussy like it was his favorite piece of candy, whispering he loved me while trying to suck my tongue out of my mouth. But now? I’m hisold friend?
Yeah, aight, nigga.
Paris hesitated—clearly annoyed—but leaned in and kissed him. Hard. Nasty. Purposeful. She made sure we saw her tongue go all up in his mouth.
“Fine,” she said as she pulled away, shooting daggers in my direction. “Don’t take too long. You know how much I miss you when you’re away.”
As she strutted off, Amber—never one to let shit slide—got one more lick in.
“My ass-whuppings don’t expire, Miss Spring.”
“It’sSummers!” Paris shouted back, without even looking.
I didn’t give a fuck if it wasWinterorFall—as long as it wasn’tBlaque, I would be okay.
“Amber, can you wait for me back at the front, please?”
“Uh-huh. But just know, Mr. Blaque,” she turned back to him with that familiar daggered glare, “these hands are rated E.”
“Uh… and what does that mean exactly?” Gage asked, clearly confused.
“It meanseverybodyin this bitch can get fucked up,” she said, wiping off invisible lint from his shirt.
This girl is always adjusting somebody’s shirt. That must be her damn coping mechanism or something.
Amber gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before walking away, hips swinging like a single mother with her shit together.
Gage gestured for me to follow. We slipped down a side corridor that smelled like fresh pastries and coffee. Since confirming my pregnancy, I could smell people’s thoughts—and this newfound superpower felt more like a curse than a gift. Everything seemed to make me nauseous.
