She handed me a black dress and kept scanning. “That’s my motto. Why the fuck would I crease my face worrying about some shit that already happened? I clear my mind at the end of every fucking day. Blank page. That’s how I stay stress-free and fine. Let these other fools stay up at night worrying about life.”
“I hear you.”
The privilege in that statement was appalling, but also kind of admirable. I was trying to live stress-free, too. I’d been through enough bullshit for three lifetimes. A bitch wastired.
Her phone buzzed. She picked it up and smirked before her perfectly manicured fingers flew across the screen typing a response.
“Who got you smilin’ over there?” I teased.
“Milo. His thirsty ass.”
“Isn’t that your boyfriend’s manager?”
“Mm hm.” She typed again, then dropped her phone back into her bag. “I’m gonna fuck him at some point. He knows that, and now he won’t leave me alone.”
“O…kay. I…don’t know what to say to that.”
She shrugged. “Terio fucked a stripper and mighta got her pregnant.”
“Yeah, I was wondering about that, but I didn’t wanna ask.”
“Bitch, please. We’re family now. Ask all you want. I might not answer, but you can ask.”
“Okay. I’m asking. Is it true?”
“Well, the baby part, we don’t know yet. But it don’t matter. I know he fucked her. So what I’ma do is fuck his manager while he’s locked up so he knows how that shit feels.” She blew a big pink bubble. When it popped, the sweet smell of cotton candy filled the air. “My daddy called it natural consequences.”
As I watched her flip through more dresses, I smiled and felt a little proud, strangely enough. People could call her stupid all they wanted, but the more I got to know her, the more I felt like Jaz kinda knew what she was doing in this thing called life.