Or rather, the Dominican Inquisition.
“So have you talked to Kenan Ross?” Yari asks from the doorway, chewing on a stick of beef jerky. She loves that stuff.
I glance up, slightly exasperated. I’m sandwiched between two sewing machines to avoid the socialness in the office that sometimes distracts me.
Also, because I don’t want to talk to her about Kenan. Especially after my conversation with him in the stairwell. I haven’t talked to Billie or Yari about Kenan because there wasn’t much to report. Not anything concrete other than an attraction stronger than I’ve ever felt before. Otherwise, nothing to see here.
“Uh, we ran into each other on my way back from Mood Fabrics,” I say, eyes never straying from my laptop screen.
“He was here looking for you,” Billie says, appearing from behind Yari.
Great. Both of ’em.
“Was he?” I ask, all super caszh.
“Yeah, girl,” Yari says, coming all the way in and hopping up onto one of the dusty sewing tables. “But he was trying to play it off.”
“Not with me, he wasn’t,” Billie chimes in, taking the table opposite Yari’s. “Came right out and asked me where she was.”
I split an irritated glance between the two of them. “Have you asked yourselves why someone who has a perfectly good office up on the second floor is working in a backroom on the first?”
“Of course, we asked ourselves that,” Billie says sweetly. “And we deduced you wanted us to have some privacy so you could spill the tea.”
“What tea?” I elevate one brow.
“Yeah, like have you kissed him again?” Yari asks, gnawing on that damn jerky.
“Of course, she hasn’t,” Billie chides. “She would have told us.”
“No, she wouldn’t,” I reply, giving up on productivity and closing my laptop.
“Well at least tell us how you’re doing with the sex strike,” Yari says. “We live together, and I don’t even know what’s going on with you.”
“I’ve been busy.” I rub tired eyes. “There’s a little thing called Fashion Week coming, and we have a collection to produce, a show to plan. So, ya know, there’s that.”
“We have work, too,” Billie says defensively. “But we wouldn’t let that get in the way of the details.”
“What details?” I ask cautiously.