“I thought cats were supposed to be independent and low-maintenance,” I mutter.
“Figures you’d pick one that’s the exact opposite.”
“I didn’t pick her.” I look down at Queenie treating my feet like an obstacle course.
“Meow.”
“Don’t even. If you hadn’t been acting up at the shelter, your diva ass would have stayed right there.”
“I think it’s a perfect match,” Rayne says, licking her fingers.
“The dress and boots?”
“No! You and Queenie.”
“Ssskt.”
“Gimme a sec.” She sets the box on the nightstand and hops off the bed. A minute later, she’s back carrying black Louboutins with the signature red soles. The ones she’d splurged on for her thirtieth birthday.
“I can’t wear your good shoes.”
“I’m not giving them much action these days. Take my girls out for a spin. I’ll live vicariously.”
“What if I break a heel? You know I could.”
“You’re not going to break a heel. You’re going to make a statement. Try them on.”
I deposit Queenie on my bed with the Spider-Man plushie she’s claimed as hers and carefully handle the stilettos like newborns. I slide my feet into the pointy tips. Admittedly, they look hot. I take them for a test run around the room.
“They pinch my baby toes.”
“They’re not meant for long-distance walking. Just a short strut, which is all you need.”
I glance at myself in the mirror. Locs pulled up off my neck and shoulders, skin glowing, tats on display, thighs out for vengeance.
“Can you do my makeup?” I ask. She’s better at it.
“You don’t need much. Just some lipstick. I have the perfect color.” She disappears again and returns with two tubes and a liner. “We’re going to sculpt first,” she says, outlining my lips in soft brown, then filling them in with nude, before finishing them off with a satiny peach coat.
“Girl, you are date-night dangerous. Like foreplay. Dice is going to be drooling all over himself.”
“He better be.”
“Nervous?”
There’s a flicker in my chest. I don’t usually get nervous before a hookup. But this thing with Dice has been building in my head for years, and now it’s here. “I’m too down bad for that man to let nerves get in the way.”
“I know that’s right.” She high-fives me. “But I’m sure Dice is feeling it too.”
“Dice nervous about sexing a woman up? Doubt it.”
“You’re not justanywoman.”
“He says I’m not.” I pause, then add, “But let’s be real, Dice knows how to sweet-talk.” I pop a pack of condoms and my purple B.O.B. case into my purse. “Okay, I’m ready. You good with Queenie?”
“I think the real question is whether Queenie’s good with me?”
Chapter Twelve
