“What the fuck!”
I nearly choked on the mouth wad of barbecue chicken sandwich when I saw Katiesha’s and Bree’s faces splashed across my flat-screen HDTV. I grabbed the remote off the coffee table to turn it up. I was officially knocked on my ass when it was reported that Bree had been charged with Katiesha’s murder. It was obvious that if they had arrested Bree, then the cops didn’t find my prints on anything. Bree, murder? No-fucking-way. Home girl was capable of a lot of things, including fucking her husband’s brother, but killing somebody? I didn’t even want to think about what she must have been going through, hell, what my baby, Kashawn must have been going through. I needed to get down to the jail. I had to get my story straight first, though, in case the cops got a hankering to come sniffing around here to ask me questions. I was home all night and didn’t leave my house. I turned in early because I had an early day at the j-o-b. Yeah, that’s what’s up.
Bree must have come by Katiesha’s crib after I’d left when she didn’t find Katiesha at Risqué. With Bree finally out of the picture, this shit could be a blessing in disguise. It opened up all kinds of opportunities for me and Kashawn. He must be devastated. He was going to need support, a shoulder to cry on. It’s funny sometimes how shit just falls into your lap. I went to my bedroom closet to find something sleek and fierce to wear. I took out this royal-blue pencil dress with a peek-a-boo keyhole in the middle that showed off the perfect bit of skin without it looking too hoochie. I pulled a black-and-white shoe box off the shelf above the rack of clothes and got out the pair of fuchsia, eight-inch pumps I’d been dying to break in. I was giving plus-size supermodel realness.
A celebrity’s donkey booty didn’t hold a candle to these double-chocolate cakes. As an added bonus, I sprayed on a little Estee Lauder between my breasts before checking my hair and makeup in the mirror one last time.
“Kashawn Parker, I’m about to show you what you’ve been missing.”
I’d never had a problem getting a man. Finding a good man is where the problem comes in. Give these brothers out here a taste, next thing you know, they want to play house with a bitch. But I didn’t play that. I cut them off at the knees when they start tripping.
I’d come a long way since my bookish, nerdy girl days in high school. Amazing what Proactiv and a little makeup will do. After graduation, I couldn’t wait to get that damn barbed wire cut off my teeth. Boys back in the day wouldn’t so much as fart in my direction. Now I had to beat them off with an ugly stick. There isn’t a man yet that has been able to resist my curves, not even Kashawn. I bet he still thinks of that night I sucked his dick, the night I went down on him when Bree was off in Atlanta, probably fucking every man that made a pass at her slutty ass.
“Where the hell is my earring?” I was rummaging through the jewelry box Mama had given me last year on my twenty-fifth birthday. “Oh, shit. No, no, no, please, God no!” I dumped out the contents of the jewelry box on my dresser, checking every earring, necklace, and brooch. Shit, it must have fallen out of my ear at Katiesha’s house.
Fuck, what if the cops found it? That shit would link me to knowing Katiesha. I couldn’t go back to that house now. Cops were probably swarming like flies around that place, fucking crime scene tape everywhere. If I went around the cops, asking questions, it could put suspicion on me. They would have tracked me down by now had they found something.
Okay, girl. Keep it together. Calm down. There’s way too much heat right now with this whole mess with Bree and Katiesha. First thing’s first. Time to go play the concerned best friend.