Page 29 of Pills and Potions: Kase
She laughed. “I got you. When do you need me?”
“Now.”
“Okay. But we’ll have to take your car since I rode my bike.”
“How the hell you deliverin’ smoothies on two wheels?”
“I got a basket,” she said proudly.
I just shook my head. It didn’t make no damn sense how someone could be that happy about helping me. I didn’t argue. Just unlocked the car and dropped my smoothie in the cupholder. We hit the road. For the most part, the ride was quiet for a minute, just the hum of traffic and me sipping that smoothie like it held all the answers. Then I noticed her sneaking glances.
“What?” I asked, eyes on the road.
She smiled. “Nothing.”
“Nah, don’t ‘nothing’ me. You been lookin’ at me like I’m a damn cinnamon roll fresh out the oven.”
She smirked. “Yeah... one I wanna eat, but then when you talk, I remember why I hate sugar.”
I smirked. “Damn, Wheels. That was almost sweet ‘til you threw in the slander.”
We pulled up to the office building where the investment guy worked. I parked smoothly, hopped out, then, against all logic, circled around to open her door.
“Aww,” she beamed. “That was sweet.”
I scratched my head. “It’s not a big deal or nothing.”
What the fuck, Kase? I didn’t do that for no woman. Not unless she was elderly or cooked Sunday dinner. But I let it ride. Blyss got out the car smiling like I’d just read her a poem.
“I’m starting to rub off on you,” she said.
“You wish.”
Still, I walked beside her, not in front of her like I normally did with girls who annoyed me. We walked in like some respectable-ass couple on a date. When we got inside, I adjusted my pants a little. Not all the way up, just enough to look “professional,” whatever that meant. As soon as we stepped in, some woman near the reception desk turned around with her blouse damn near choking from how much breast it was holding.Normally, I’d flash a smirk, throw a line, something smooth. But today? I waved awkward as hell with my full palm. I looked like a damn fool. She smiled, but I could tell she was confused. Shit, I was too.
“Dress shoes,” the woman complimented.
Now was the time for me to be slick. Instead, I said, “Thanks! They’re… memory foam.”
Memory foam, my nigga?!
I felt Blyss snort behind me. This was bad. I cleared my throat and tried to regain control of my own damn body. “I mean... they're comfortable. I walk a lot... sometimes. Health is wealth, right?”
NowIwanted to crush myself like a cookie. The chick smiled again, said “Okay then,” and walked off, probably going to tell her homegirl she just met a fine dude with orthopedic shoe energy. I turned to Blyss and gave her the look.
“Don’t,” I said, already knowing she had something on her chest.
“I didn’t say a word,” she said, lips twitching.
“You ain't have to. I could feel you judging me with your eyelashes.”
She shook her head. “You were so polite… it was almost romantic. Like a PBS character.”
“Man, shut up.”
But deep down? I was shocked.
We checked in at the front desk, and while Blyss signed us in, I saw some magazines on the table and, like a damn usher, started tidying them up. I even thanked the receptionist for “keeping a peaceful atmosphere.”
