Page 89 of Tainted

“Alright, I have to get going.”

“Where are you going?” Brandy asked.

“Hanging out with Romello tonight,” I replied, leaning down so Banana Girl could kiss my cheek. We had kicked it a few times so far. He didn’t give me butterflies like Kenyon, but Romello was fun and, most of all, safe.

“Me and Otto wanna hang too. Where y’all going?”

“Nowhere with y’all.”

My response made Nana chuckle because she knew how I felt about Otto. Brandy did, too, but conveniently got amnesia and rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. I’ll see you later, Nana.”

“If you going to have that nigga laid up in my house, have him change the filters,” She fussed, hugging Brandy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hmm, I hope you’re using condoms. Both of you. I had a dream about fish the other night.”

Since moving back, I hadn’t done anything, so I tuned out her comment, “I love you, Banana Girl.”

“I love you too, My Zara.”

Brandy and I headed for the parking lot while she speculated which neighbor reported her business to Nana.

“I know it was Miss. Kurley. Her nosey ass is always peeping through the blinds.”

“It could be anybody. They’ve all lived on that block before we were born,” I chuckled.

“What are you wearing tonight?”

“No clue.”

“Oh, wear those denim shorts with that cardigan I love. I would've stolen it if we wore the same size.”

“As long as we have your shape and not mine. I’d be raking in the dough at Utopia for real with that ass.”

“Hmm, maybe I need to put all this thickness to good use!” Brandy bent over, shaking her ass, then dipped to the ground.

“Yeah, you should because we need money.”

“I’m not as brave as you. I could never,” Brandy sighed, leaning against my car. “All those eyes on me. Taking my clothes off for strangers. I just. . .” She shivered at the thought and quickly caught herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean.”

My hand flew up, and Brandy slammed her lips shut. “I’m not offended. I’m just doing what I have to do for now, but one day, I’ll be living my dream.” I smiled at the thought. “Maybe I’ll own a dance studio teaching classes. Or maybe dance on tour with Beyonce.”

“Oh, yes! I need the hookup on tickets, too. I have a better chance of getting the Coca-Cola recipe than getting Beyonce tickets on my own.”

“You know, Mrs. Carter doesn’t do that unprofessional shit. You’re not about to get me fired from my dream job.”

“I can see you on stage now, cousin. Mrs. Carter would be lucky to have you.” Brandy’s face lit up, delivering that compliment. Then, in the next second, it was gone. Brandy became quiet. A sign that something was on her mind that she didn’t know how to share.

“What is it?”

A gentle tone accompanied Brandy’s words, “You’re feeling Keyes like that?”

“I don’t know how to feel about him,” I admitted.

“Just be careful. He’s fine and has money, but I’ve never seen him take any woman seriously other than Sydney. I don’t want you to get hurt, you know.”

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