“What does that mean?”
“She always told me she never wanted to go in a nursing home. And what did I do?”
“Ell, you have nothing to feel bad about. Beachwood is the best in Atlanta. My father-in-law was there before he passed. Girl, with the hours you work, you can’t take care of her.”
“I know, but still . . .” I went quiet wondering what Vera was doing at that moment. Maybe I’d go by and visit when I left Grace. I’d take her some magazines or some mints, the things that always brightened her spirits.
“So, I didn’t want to bring this up again, but what’s going on with the murder investigation?” Grace said.
“I don’t know. The police aren’t really sharing a lot of information.”
“Did the guy . . . Michael, right? Did he have any enemies?”
Grace had turned things all serious again. I just wanted to go back to laughing and gossiping about people we knew. I wanted to keep giggling like we did in college. I didn’t want to deal with my real life.
I sauntered up to the window of an überexpensive store called the Port. “What do you think of that blue dress? The one with the belt.”
“Hmm . . . nice. I like that pantsuit, though. So was he married? The police always suspect the spouse first.”
“Yeah, he was married.”
“Didn’t you say this was the same guy you worked with at the firm a few years back?”
I continued staring in the store window. “Mm-hmm.”
“So were you guys tight?”
I could feel her eyes examining me. She was digging around again, but I guess it came from a good place. She was my best friend. Still, I never broke my stare from the window. “You think that shade of blue is too bright for me? I’m not in my twenties, you know.”
“You don’t have to be twenty to wear bright colors. And you’re not slick. You’re acting the same way you acted back in school when you were messing around with that biology TA sophomore year.”
I finally swung around to face her. “Are we gonna shop or talk about my questionable taste in men?”
Grace’s eyes narrowed. “Were you sleeping with your boss?”
“I thought you said we came here to get my mind off all that death and dying stuff.”
Grace gave me a yeah, whatever kind of look but said nothing.
“You’re right, I can pull off that color. Hell, Beyoncé’s mama wears whatever she wants and she’s in her sixties! I’m going in to try it on.”
Grace shook her head and followed me in the store.
“Good afternoon.” The salesclerk offered a curt greeting along with a plastic smile of bright red lipstick and porcelain veneers. I watched her give a quick glance to the security guard standing near the door.
“Good afternoon,” Grace and I said in unison.
The store was one of those places with sparse racks of clothes that hung from chains in the ceiling and round glass tables flaunting sparkly orbs of jewelry and accessories. Grace and I began to stroll through the store. I wasn’t even halfway through a rack when I noticed the security guard moving in behind Grace as she picked through earrings on a table.
“Hey, what do you think of these?” Grace held up a pair of crystal globe earrings. I nodded my agreement at her. She turned a serious face to the security guard, who stood so close to her she could have leaned over and pecked him on the lips. “What do you think?” she asked him. He flushed red with embarrassment and eased away. She glanced back at me and silently mouthed the words Fuck him.
I grinned and picked up a blouse. I noticed the salesclerk in my peripheral vision as she eased from behind the counter. Even though we were the only customers in the store, she still hadn’t offered to help us with anything.
“That blue dress in the window, do you have it in a size twelve?” I asked.
“That dress is Alexander McQueen and it’s twenty-seven hundred dollars.”
I looked at Grace then back at the salesclerk. “That’s not the answer to my question, but thanks for volunteering that information. Size twelve, please.”
“I’m not sure that particular designer makes clothing in anything above a size ten.”
“Maybe you should go check, huh?”
She grimaced and hustled off to the back of the store. I watched her walk off. I eyed the security guard again. He gave me a sheepish expression, then slinked off.
“Oh God,” Grace said. “Is she serious?”
“I know.” I shook my head in disgust. “I think I just got dissed twice— I’m Black and fat. This city is what, like fifty percent Black? The cradle of the civil rights movement. Let’s just go. Let that heffa sell that rag to someone else.”