“Tacos.”
“I’m kind of jealous,” she admitted.
“You want me to get you some?”
“Yeah. Leave the studio and bring me tacos.” She laughed but stopped when she saw the way I was looking at her. “I was joking, Berlin.”
“Don’t play,” I warned.
Whatever it took to keep her eating a good amount was what she would have.
“I appreciate the offer though.” She pushed her shades back on her head. I unwrapped my taco and watched her squeeze dressing onto her salad, put the top back on, and aggressively shake it. “Ready?”
“I’m ready.”
Myome pulled the top off and took a big bite of salad. I took a bite from my taco too.
“How’s the studio going?”
“Rome and Merch are almost done with their shit, Alan is getting in, then I’m done for the day.”
“Ouuu. You’re calling it early?”
“Yeah. I’ve got to be ready tonight for your performance.”
“So, you’re going to be there?”
“I told you I would.” I lifted an eyebrow in confusion.
Myome scoffed. “Well yeah, but…” She took another bite and I followed suit. “We never reconfirmed.”
“Why would we reconfirm? If I said I’d do it, I’m going to do it.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Myome, have I ever told you some shit and not stood on it?”
She pursed her lips. “Not yet.”
“And that shit ain’t gon’ happen.”
“That nigga sprung,” Rome whispered and Dashawn and Alan both laughed.
“We’ll see.” Myome took her third bite.
“Yeah. We’ll see.” I took a bite then looked at Rome. “Get back in that mothafuckin’ booth, bitch.”
“What? I can’t finish eating?”
“Nah. You should have been chewing instead of talking shit.” I nudged my head toward the booth. “Let’s go.”
Rome shook his head but shoved the rest of his taco into his mouth, grabbed his water, and headed back into the booth.
“I take that to mean you’re getting back to it so I’ll let you go.” Myome took another bite.
“I’ll see you tonight. Just let me know where you want me.”
“Okay.”