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“What are you doing here?”
“Why’d you call out of work?”
She scowled. “What are you, my parole officer? Why wouldn’t you just call like a normal person?”
“Because your rude ass wouldn't have picked up.” I pressed a hand against her forehead. “You sick?”
She brushed my hand away and stepped back to let me in.
The TV was playing 90 Day Fiancé and a bowl of soggy cereal was on the coffee table. She picked up the bowl and took it to the kitchen while I sat on the couch.
“I’m fine,” she said from the kitchen.
“Uh huh.”
She sat back down on the other end of the couch with her feet under her, pulling a pillow on her lap. She started picking at a loose thread.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” I asked.
“Oh my god, Dez. I just needed a day off. There’s nothing wrong with that,” she snapped.
“La’Belle.”
“Cardez.” She mimicked my tone and made a face.
“You on your cycle or some shit?”
“Did you really just ask me that?”
“It’s a valid question.”
“No, nigga.” She threw the pillow at me. “Stop asking me twenty-one questions.”
I laughed, catching the pillow with ease. “Get dressed.”
She looked at me. “Why?”
“We’re going out.”
“I’m not tryna go anywhere. That was the whole point of me not going into work.”
“I look like I care? Since you not sick and don’t want to tell me what’s going on, take a ride with me. I’ll let you spend my money.”
Her face lit up at the prospect of running up my black card, but I could tell that she still wanted to verbally spar with me. To my surprise she didn’t. Instead, she blew out an annoyed breath, got up, and disappeared down the hall into her bedroom.
I looked around the living room while I waited. It was a little more disorganized than usual. There were papers scattered on her coffee table—financial documents, statements, and what looked like account information, but I couldn’t totally make out everything from where I was standing. I moved to get a closer look, then caught myself. Her money wasn’t my business.
Yes, I’d broken into her apartment to snoop around, but there were limits to my nosiness.
She came out twenty minutes later in a pink sundress with her hair down in loose curls. I had to have a serious conversation with my dick, because I was reconsidering changing plans from shopping to making her feel better with my mouth and hands instead.
“Ready?” I asked.
“I guess.” She grabbed her bag. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
I kept my hands in my pockets while we rode the elevator down to the garage in silence. When we got to the car I opened her door, and she got in, pulling her sunglasses down wordlessly.
