Suddenly, there was a loud crash.
“Shit,” Melina hissed as she squatted to grab the pile of glasses she’d dropped.
“You good?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” she snapped.
Her tone said otherwise.
I already knew seeing me with Skye was a problem for her. But it shouldn’t have been.
“Are the restrooms good to use?” Skye asked softly. “I need to go.”
“Yeah, but just use the one in my office.” I reached for her hand. “I’ll show you.”
I led her down the hallway and into my office.
“Oh, this is nice,” she said, trailing her fingers along the soft, dark leather couch. “You don’t slack in any area of life, huh?”
“Not at all.”
“Quick question.”
“Yeah?”
I braced myself, already thinking she was about to ask about Melina.
“Does that Chanel girl still work here?”
“Who?”
“Chanel. She’s a stripper I caught Mecca with.”
“Oh.” I shook my head. “Nah. She linked up with Tyrone Henry one night and disappeared.”
“The football player?”
“Yep.”
“Wait, ain’t he married?”
I lifted my hands. “Look, I don’t ask about folks’ personal lives. All I know is she danced with him one night, he asked about her another night, and she ain’t come back to work.”
“Hmmm…”
“Why?” I asked. “You still got smoke for her over your old nigga?”
She laughed.
“You laughing, but I’m serious.”
“That’s why I’m laughing,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t have nothing for her. I just like knowing who I might run into. I already ran into his baby mama and I don’t?—”
“You ran into Brookia?”
“Yeah. At the video shoot. She was apologizing and all that. I told her we were good.”
“And are you?”
