her to come on. As I began to creep down the second-floor stairs, Kyra turned the corner and dashed up the steps. I almost shit on myself. “Kyra, you scared the devil out of me. Where’s Trae?”
“Why are you whispering? And Trina? Is that Trina? Get out of here! Praise God!” she squealed.
“Kyra!” Trina dashed back up the stairs as if she was running from a ghost. That shit was so comical, I wish I had of caught it on camera.
“What is her problem?” Kyra asked me.
“She thought you was gone just like the rest of us. No offense. Trina, get your ass down here!” I called out. She peeked over the bannister.
“What the . . . where—”
“Girl, it’s me and I wish y’all would stop with the dead bullshit.”
“Kyra, look at you. Dreads? Your skin is so smooth. Where have you been?” Trina came dashing down the stairs, damn near knocking me over to go hug Kyra. “Tasha didn’t even tell me you were home. You had us worried half to death. Where were you?”
“Trina, you need to be going. Going now.” I grabbed her arm and damn near yanked it out of its socket.
“No, don’t go. We are getting ready to go out to eat. Me, your sister, Angel, and Jaz. Come with us.” Kyra extended a dinner invitation to my sister. I wasn’t trying to hear it, though.
Trina lit up; then, just as quickly, her face turned into a frown. I was sure that she was thinking about how Angel and Jaz both wanted to kick her ass. “Not this time. I already have a previous engagement. But let me take you to breakfast.”
“That’ll work,” Kyra said. “Don’t stand me up, girl, and have me getting up all early for you, Trina. We gotta catch up.”
“I’m looking forward to it, Kyra.” Trina hugged Kyra again and then flew down the stairs and out the front door.
I rushed up the stairs, took a quick shower, and got dressed. I had decided to wear a blue Alexander McQueen pant suit with a pair of cream Giuseppe heels. Angel was wearing an Anna Sui brown chiffon dress and gold Louboutin stilettos and Jaz had on a pair of Givenchy jeans with a red Dolce and Gabbana blouse and red strappy heels. We all looked at what Kyra had on, looked at each other and now words needed to be spoken.
Kyra glared at us, snapped her neck and asked, “Why y’all lookin’ at me? Y’all know I ain’t got no clothes.”
“Don’t even worry about it, I got you.” I told her. “I’ma call my girl Detroit Keish at Boutique Bleu on S. La Brea and tell her I’m coming through. I’ma give her your sizes and she’ll have shit laid out for you as if you are royalty. We get in, get out. Now let’s bounce.”
When I got downstairs, Trae was kicked back on the couch with his eyes closed. I kissed him lightly on the lips and grabbed my girls, and we were on our way out the door.
“Don’t make me come and get you,” he yelled after me.
“Stop being so mean, Trae,” Angel snapped at him before I could. “She’s with her girls.”
“Don’t let me find out y’all doing more than eating.”
“And if you do?” Angel challenged.
“Me and Kay going back to our old ways.”
“Whatever!” We all laughed. We were already celebrating so I pulled out the Maybach. Y’all must have forgot who the fuck I was.
My girl Keish blessed Kyra with a slick Armani khaki mini skirt with a black Armani jacket, a pair of black and brown Fendi ankle boots. We were now ready to roll.
“Wait until Rick sees your ass in that.” Jaz teased her.
• • •
We had reservations at the Geisha House on the Boulevard in L.A. Kyra and Angel wanted sushi. The waiter had just cleared the table of our dinner and poured us our third round of sake. We laughed and reminisced for what felt like hours. Everyone had their glass filled to the rim at least twice, except for Kyra; she didn’t want anything to drink. She was listening intently as Jaz told her about Faheem, Oni, and his son. Then she started crying and praying. Everybody was, like, what the fuck? She quickly recovered and began asking more questions. But it was too late; she had changed up the whole atmosphere.
Since Angel didn’t have any major drama of her own, she happily told Kyra all about mine. My drama didn’t cause