I slowed my steps, creeping toward the sound, and stopped just outside the suite. I leaned in slightly, listening.
“You remember how we met?” I heard Kel ask.
My blood started boiling, but I stayed quiet, needing to hear where this was going.
“Oh my God, don’t remind me,” Trisha said, her voice light. “I still don’t go to the club because of that.”
“Soon as they started shooting, I hit the ground. Next thing I know, all I see is ass. Thought I died and went to heaven.”
Trisha giggled uncontrollably. “This ass will make you feel like that.”
“It was bad enough they was shooting, then next thing I know you sitting on my head,” Kel said, laughing at the memory.
“I just dropped. I didn’t even look where I was landing,” Trisha added, laughing harder.
“Who the fuck wears white jeans to the club anyway?” Kel asked.
“Me. Shit. Them jeans fit me like a glove.”
“They damn sure did,” Kel said and I heard it. That tone. That gravelly, low tone she used on me when she was trying to get some pussy.
I’d heard enough.
I stepped into the doorway, making my presence known. They both jumped.
“B-baby, w-what you doing here?” Kel stuttered. Half her head was braided, and Trisha was mid-part on another section.
“I’ve been calling you,” I said, looking from her to Trisha. “But I see you too busy going down memory lane to answer.”
Trisha rolled her eyes at me, and I wanted to knock them clean out her sockets.
Her beauty made me insecure. She was a petite thing with blonde hair and colorful tats decorating her toffee complexion. An oversized Essentials hoodie hung off her frame, barely covering the tiny black shorts that showed off her curves.
She was giving effortless bad bitch and it fucked with me. Especially knowing she and Kel didn’t end on bad terms.
Kel patted her pockets. “You seen my phone, T?”
“Last time I saw it, you had it when I was shampooing you. Let me check the wash room.”
Trisha brushed past me, giving me a slow once-over as she went.
“You good, baby?” Kel asked, stepping closer.
“Why the fuck are you here?” I asked.
“Getting my hair done,” she said, like it was obvious.
“On a Sunday?”
“Her books stay full. This was the only time she could squeeze me in,” Kel said casually.
I wanted to ask why Trisha felt so inclined tosqueeze her in, but I bit my tongue as she came back, holding Kel’s phone.
She handed it to her, then looked at me.
“I don’t allow my clients to bring extra guests to their appointments,” she said. “So can you wait outside for Kelly?”
This bitch.