“And?”
“And he’s cool people.”
“Good. I love when my men get along.”
“Your men, huh?”
“You like that?” she teased.
“I don’t hate it,” I admitted. “Where you want to go?”
“I was thinking this cute little dress shop over by the nail shop on Third Street.”
“A’ight.” I put my signal on and switched lanes.
When we got to the shop, Selle hopped out immediately and I followed her inside.
“What color should I wear?” she asked as she rummaged through the dresses on the rack.
“You’ll look fine as hell in anything you pick out, baby.”
“I know.” She flipped her freshly straightened hair over her shoulder and gave me one of her sultry looks, the one I’d seen her use to disarm men countless times at the bar.
“Then what’s the question?”
“I don’t want to just look fine as hell. I want him to be unable to breathe when he sees me.”
“I’m pretty sure he feels that way every time he sees you.”
“Maybe.” She headed to the next rack and I followed, casually pulling my phone out.
Me:
What color dress you want Jiselle to wear?
Kiano:
I don’t know.
Me:
She needs a color. ASAP.
Kiano:
Black
Or red.
Me:
K.
I locked my phone and shoved it into my pocket.
“How do you feel about green?” I asked.
Selle looked at me and lifted an eyebrow. She thought carefully then nodded.