She’sneversaid that about any of the guys from the Bottoms. Usually, the grittier they were, the easier her panties came off for them.
My eyebrows furrow, and I let out a snort. “Oh, wow. Why? What’s different about him compared to the other guys from the Bottoms you liked?”
“Doesn’t matter. He ain’tyourtype. So why are you worried?”
I choke out a stunned laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He ain’t from The Woodlands, Katy, or some affluent New Jersey suburb. He’s from right here—right off Joliet. He doesn’t know shit about Chanel, Paris Fashion Week, or French 75s, and he’s not a pretentious asshole. That means hedefinitelyain’t your type.”
She says the words in a matter-of-fact way, and I guess she’s right. Richisn’tmy type even though it feels illegal to think that. Then there’s the air of mystery that’s always swirling around him that I can’t seem to penetrate. Everybody’s always saying so much about him while also saying nothing at all.
She rolls her eyes. “And since when is AJ okay with you riding around with other men, anyway?”
See, this is why AJ didn’t trust her.
She saw all the holes in our relationship that I tried to hide with fake smiles and expensive “I’m sorry” gifts that me and her used to fawn over.
“Rich was just being nice and giving me a ride after I finished up at his house. He’s training with Uncle Kenny, and Aunt Faye cleans his house. I was helping her out today.”
“Yeah, I heard Kenny had taken him in at the gym after that shit he got into with Melo and that boy that worked for him…but I ain’t know about that cleaning part.”
“Melo Barnes?”
Saying “Melo Barnes” out loud makes me cut my eyes to the front door of her shop. Her and Meechie always said to be careful about saying his name out loud because he was alwayslistening, and now I’msureI know why Rich ended up training with Uncle Kenny.
“Yeah…thatMelo.” She glances back down at the braiding hair, letting her long burgundy braids fall over her eyes. “Kenny must not know you be in Pup’s truck like that in between their training sessions, huh?”
“He really was just giving me a ride over here. That’s it.”
“And youreallymight wanna take an Uber next time with everything going on around here.”
“Did something happen while I was gone?”
She sighs. “Nothing that you should be concerned with since you have your new life to worry about. Like I said—take an Uber next time.”
“Oh—kay…”
She doesn’t give me the usual interrogation. She doesn’t ask what Rich smelled like or if I had any plans to give him a fake number since he “wasn’t my type.” She doesn’t even give me the rundown on the tea about him that I missed. Instead, she frowns and keeps pulling the braiding hair apart while I glance around her shop.
Nothing’s changed in here since the last time I came. I’d sat in her chair and laughed for hours while she installed knotless braids that AJ hated as soon as he saw me coming out of baggage claim at LaGuardia. Any hairstyle that fell past my shoulders was dangerous because he swore they made other men stare too hard and for too long.
“My twelve o’clock is on her way,” Terrica mumbles.
She’s cold, and I guess I would be too. Our relationship didn’t have a proverbial ending, just like mine and AJ’s. One day I picked up my phone to call her, only for AJ to tell me not to bother.
“It’s either me or her. I’m tired of her big ass mouth—always yapping and telling you what you should and shouldn’t bedoing. I saw what she texted you. You can leave if you want, but I’ll make you regret it,” he said casually, lying across our bed and scrolling on his phone. “My cousin Marni can be your maid of honor.”
That bile sneaks its way up my throat again.
“You gonna call AJ to pick you up?” she asks, draping a piece of hair across the braiding rack that sits on the counter behind her chair.
“It’s just me.”
“Right. That’s why I asked if he was gonna come get you. I have a busy day.”
“No, T. I left. I left him.”
She stops pulling at the hair and looks up at me. Her eyes rove my body and stop on my engagement ring that had been burning my finger ever since Rich exposed me.
