Page 66 of Roman Blake
“On you,” she said like it was obvious. “He was talkin’ to him the other day and sayin’ he know you been fallin’ back, but that don’t mean Roman need to be ridin’ past your spots every other day.”
I stopped. “My spots?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Work. Your mama’s house. The shop. He not always sayin’ nothin’, but he be around. Royce said he seen his location history and was like, ‘Bruh, you gotta relax.’”
I blinked at her. “Location history?”
She made a face. “You know how they got that stupid shared location thing for when they run moves together sometimes. He wasn’t snoopin’, but it popped up. And he ain’t say nothin’ at first, but once he realized Roman hit your side of town a few too many times to be coincidence… he said somethin’.”
I laughed.
I couldn’t help it.
“That nigga is so dramatic,” I said. “He probably just happen to be over there. It’s a whole city, April.”
She looked at me like I was slow. “Okay, Melissa.”
“No, forreal,” I said. “I know he crazy, but he ain’t on no creep shit like that. He got better shit to do than trail me like that.”
“Didn’t you just tell me he followed you from the club to your house last week?” she asked. “And walked through every room like he was SWAT?”
“That was different,” I said quickly. “He knew I was there.”
She shook her head. “Girl, you gon’ keep laughin’ this off till you catch him for yourself.”
I waved her off. “Whatever. I’ll talk to him if it get weird.”
Spoiler alert: it got weird already.
A few days later, my mama hit me talkin’ ‘bout, “They got this perfume-makin’ class over Philly, you wanna go?”
I ain’t had nothin’ else to do and I needed somethin’ to keep my mind off everything, so I said yeah.
We pulled up to this cute little spot with exposed brick and plants everywhere, women in aprons talkin’ about notes and oils and all that extra shit. My mama was hype.
“Oooh, look at this,” she said, sniffin’ some jasmine thing. “I’m ‘bout to have me a signature scent.”
“Not too much, girl,” I said, laughin’. “We not about to be payin’ rent for no perfume.”
We was halfway through our little mixes when my bladder started showin’ out.
“I’ma run to the bathroom,” I told her. “Don’t touch my stuff.”
She waved me off and kept smellin’ bottles.
The bathroom was down a small hallway, past some storage closet. The lights in there were kinda dim, soft yellow. It was empty when I walked in.
I went in the first stall, did what I had to do, washed my hands, and was fixin’ my hair in the mirror when I glanced up…
And damn near jumped out my skin.
Roman was leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, just… there.
In the ladies’ bathroom.
“Roman!” I yelled, grabbin’ my chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
He smirked like I’d just told a joke. “You scare easy.”
