Not wanting Cyren to feel like she was the only one showing skin, Gabi showed off the hard work she’d been putting in at the gym. Taut abs were teasingly on display, with a cropped black tee stopping just below the curve of her breasts. While her sickening six-pack was the star of the show, the pants she wore were a runner-up. Jet black and skintight, they sat low and laced up both legs, showing slivers of skin. Thin straps wrapped around her waist, letting it be known how hard she worked for her V-cut.
Finished in the bathroom, they stood at her dresser where two shot glasses were. They’d taken one shot while getting dressed before Gabi made them a mixed drink. It wasn’t as strong as she’d normally make them, but it got them through the two-hour prep. Now, it was time for one more shot before they headed out. Gabi did the honors, pouring the tequila.
“You know what happened last time I drank Tequila,” Cyren warned her.
Gabi smiled. “I do. You met a fine-ass nigga with some good dick, who likes to spend his money on you. Cheers!”
Giggling, Cyren picked her glass up and tapped Gabi’s. They clinked the dresser before tossing them back. With no lime to help soothe the burn, she felt every drop of the alcohol in her chest.
“Goodness,” Cyren groaned, sticking her tongue out.
“Oh, it wasn’t that bad. I lowkey should make us take another one because you didn’t finish your drink,” Gabi playfully said, flicking her.
Cyren shook her head. “No ma’am. Bre has a section, and I already know she’s going to have me taking some with her.”
They were meeting her at the club, and Cyren couldn’t wait to introduce them. Gabi and Bre had similar personalities, so she hoped they got along.
“And that’s what she should be doing. We’re celebrating you and turning up even if you don’t want to.”
Cyren smiled. Though Bre didn’t know she’d be celebrating Cyren, Gabi would gladly fill her in if her girl was cool with it. It’d been three weeks since she talked to her Uncle Tony, and in that time, Cyren had made her decision to move. It wasn’t a tough one, realizing she literally had the free will and resources to do what she wanted. Explaining to Nia how lonely she felt was the hard part.
Her aunt understood and didn’t make her feel bad about doing what was best for her. In this life, that’s absolutely what you had to do, and she knew so, personally. Nia would forever love her niece and support her wherever her feet were planted. She just wished she had a bit more time with her.
“I never said I didn’t want to. I’m just pacing myself,” Cyren explained.
“Okay. Let’s set a limit for the night. We’re already two?—”
“Three,” Cyren cut in. “Don’t look like that! You were heavy-handed as hell with our drinks.”
Gabi giggled. “I thought I went light. Whatever. We’re three shots in. Max is three at the club, or are we going just sipping?”
“Two and sipping. I’m glad your cousin is driving,” Cyren said, making up her mind.
Gabi’s cousin, Kay, was pregnant but not too far along to where she had to sit the club out. She didn’t mind being the designated driver for the night.
“Me too. This is her calling now,” Gabi said, answering her phone that was playing music. “Hello. Yes, you should see my car in the driveway. Okay. Here we come.”
Applying another coat of lip gloss, Cyren sprayed the insides of her wrists, neck, and ankles with a perfume she’d been obsessed with. Once she liked something, she wore it down to the ground. Making sure they had their IDs, they headed out of her bedroom.
“Okay,” Nia gushed as they walked into the living room. “Y’all look real cute. Gabi, you’re making me want a bob.”
Real cutesy, Gabi shook her blunt cut, encouraging Nia even more. “You should get one. I know you’d kill it.”
“No, you really would, Auntie,” Cyren agreed.
Her hair was currently down, falling just beneath her armpits. She was off today and had literally let her hair down and had been around the house doing absolutely nothing but enjoying her rest.
Nia fluffed her hair, wondering how much lighter she’d feel if she did go that route. Maybe not as short as Gabi’s but a shoulder-length style.
“My beautician is going to think I’m going through something.” She chuckled.
“It’s so freeing, though,” Gabi said.
In Nia’s eyes, cutting your hair was a sign of freedom. It was letting go of dead weight, situations, trauma, people, and so many other things our strands held onto. It wasn’t necessarily about the style but the release. Nia planned to look up hairstyles tonight and text her beautician in the morning. It was time to let a few things go.
“I bet. Where are y’all headed?” Nia asked.
“The club. It’s an all-black party,” Cyren answered.
