Chapter 4
Chapter four
Bryce
“My Patience, Her Makeup, And An Hour I’ll Never Get Back”
Isat in my truck outside Isis’s crib, engine running, jaw tight.
Isis had been inside doing her makeup for damn near forty-five minutes. Every time I called, she answered breathless, “I’m coming, babe! I’m almost done! This eyeliner acting dumb!”
That last time, she was mid-sentence when my patience finally snapped.
“Bryce, I swear I’m just—”
Click.
I hung up.
I stared at her front door, shaking my head.
Man, I knew this was a bad idea. I probably should’ve just stayed my ass at home this weekend, or just not brought her along, especially after what happened earlier.
When I arrived, Isis had five big ass suitcases lined up on the porch, doing entirely too much for a weekend getaway.
“Isis, what the hell is all this?” I asked, pointing at the mountain of luggage.
Isis flipped her hair with that little attitude she swore was cute. “One is for my shoes, one for hair and face products, one for personal hygiene, one for outfits, and—”
“Let me guess… one is for your perfume collection, huh?” I cut in.
She brightened like that was the most logical guess ever. “Well, my purses are included too because I had nowhere else to put them, but yes—my perfume! But oh my God! How’d you know?!”
“Because it’s you… self-explanatory.”
Then she hit me with the dramatic gasp and tried to guilt-trip me. “What if we get snowed in? I can’t survive off the same outfit twice! What if my skin gets dry? What if my nails clash with the aesthetic, Bryce?”
“Survive off what, Isis? We going to the mountains, not filming a reboot of Naked and Afraid. You don’t need five damn bags to sit by a fireplace.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but I kept going.
“Three bags max… and I’m being generous allowing that.”
Isis pouted, dragging out a whiny, “But what if I need—”
“You ain’t gon’ need shit but socks, pajamas, and one coat. Them other bags gotta go.” I pointed toward the door. “Roll that extra bullshit right back where it came from.”
She huffed, gathering up the suitcases.
And right then, watching her struggle back inside like the bags were disrespecting her spirit, I should’ve known that trip was about to be some bullshit.
Just then, my phone buzzed in my hand, dragging me out of my thoughts.
Davion.
Damn, I forgot to call that nigga.
I answered with a rough, “Yeah.”
That nigga didn’t miss a beat. “Nigga, I ain’t call to hear you breathe like a disappointed father. What the hell wrong with you?”
I exhaled hard. “Man… I’ve been sitting outside this girl’s crib for damn near an hour. She still inside trying to paint a whole new face on.”
He burst out laughing. “Oh, she must not know you’ll leave her ass. You a professional at that. Shit—I know! You remember you left me at that dice game on 22nd? Nigga, I went in the bathroom, came back, and yo’ ass was gone… didn’t even text to let me know!”
“That was different,” I muttered.
“How?! I’m yo’ nigga! Yo’ ass left me in that dusty-ass house with them greedy ass niggas who catch bodies over five dollars and are known for robbing their own cousins.
Not to mention, they had a pitbull that looked like it ate humans for breakfast!
So if you dipped on me in that situation, I know like hell she don’t stand a chance! ”
I rubbed my forehead, smirking despite how irritated I was.
“Yeah. But I kinda want some pussy tonight.”
Davion snorted. “So that’s what’s saving her? A lil’ coochie coupon?”
“That’s all. But if she don’t bring her ass outside in the next fifteen minutes, I’m pulling the fuck off.”
Davion hollered. “Fifteen? Nigga, be honest… she got five. After that, you gon’ be at the gas station eating sunflower seeds, talkin’ ‘bout you tried.”
I smirked.
He wasn’t wrong.
I had just opened my mouth to say, “Man, fuck this, I’m gone,” when her front door flew open.
Isis sashayed down the driveway, turning concrete into an unapproved fashion show.
Hair bouncing… heels clicking… purse swinging… and three suitcases.
I leaned back in my seat, annoyed.
This girl really fixing her hair and lips like I invited her to the damn Grammys. We going to the cold to chill and eat chili, not meet Beyoncé. Hell, if Beyoncé was there, she’d still be late.
Isis finally made it to the passenger door and gave me this big, sweet smile like she hadn’t just ruined my mood for sport.
I unlocked the door but didn’t bother opening it for her.
She pulled the handle and slid in, smelling like perfume, hairspray, and a whole lotta intentions I wasn’t interested in dealing with.
I stared at her for a long, cold second. “I hope all that extra was worth it. Because if you were three seconds later, I would’ve been gone. Straight up.”
Isis rolled her eyes. “Bryce, relax…”
“Relax?” I repeated. “Shawty, I waited damn near a whole hour; that’s an hour more than I give my passengers when I’m flying, and they pay for the privilege. So consider yo' pussy blessed.”
She folded her arms tight. “So you only with me for sex?”
I didn’t sugarcoat it. “You said it, not me. But yeah, sex is definitely keeping you in the game.”
Her mouth dropped open so wide I could see her tonsils.
I turned the ignition. “Now buckle up,” I told her. “I’m hungry, irritated, and horny. And if that lip gloss smears on my seat, you riding in the back.”