for each other was something more than just a platonic relationship. In another world, if Ezra hadn’t been my best friend, and she wasn’t the one person I couldn't bear to lose in case a relationship didn’t work out; she would be the perfect woman for me.
She slapped her palms onto my cheeks, positioning her face an inch from mine and said, “Okay, I will let you take me to the ball, but not as a date. We can’t forget about Ezra.”
She walked toward her bedroom, swaying her hips back and forth, leaving me in the kitchen to observe her, admiring how the sunshine, beaming through the kitchen window, cascaded off the slender arch of her back.
Damn that woman!
These moments with her were a double-edged sword for me. I loved the physical contact, but no longer wanted these moments to be friendly and playful as they had been. I wanted so much more, but then Ezra would pop back into my mind.
What should I do, Ezra?
I fantasized about throwing her on the bed, having my way with her, and kissing every inch of skin on her body. Trying to snap myself out of the fog she had just left me in, I headed to the bathroom to hop into a cold shower.
STELL A’ S
ADELINE
The next morning, as I was getting ready to leave for work, I saw the invitation pinned to the message board that hung next to the front door.
Cole had written:
Don’t forget to buy a dress for the ball, Cinderella.
I smiled, excited to have something to look forward to. I made my way to the car, pulling my phone from my fake Louis Vuitton speedy bag, sending a text to Stella.
Me: Hey girl, I need a dress for the military ball.
Stella: Oh really…who are you going with?
Me: Cole.
Stella: Whaaaaaat?!?!?! You are gonna have to tell me all about it.
Me: Is it wrong to go with him?
Stella: Wrong??? That fine ass man? NO!
Me: Okay, I’m gonna call in sick to work and come straight over. I need to talk to someone about all of this.
Stella: Yes girl. Get over here.
Stella always kept the good brand named stuff behind the counter, and I knew she would have something amazing for me.
Anxiety swept over me as I hopped into my car. What would Ezra think about me going to the ball with Cole? I’m sure he would know Cole was doing it out of duty. But what if Cole wasn’t doing it out of duty? What if I didn’t want him to take me out of duty? I shook my head as I pulled away from the curb.
A short drive later, and a walk from a parking space two blocks away, I was standing in front of Stella’s store. She had a neon sign that read: ‘STELLA’S’ but the “ST” no longer lit up, so from afar, it ended up reading as “ELLA’S.” It always made me chuckle whenever I saw it.
I couldn’t wait to walk inside. I was excited and always felt like a kid in a candy store whenever I shopped here. I walked in and was bombarded with a veritable wonderland of exotic furs, silk scarves, spiked high heeled pumps, naughty lingerie, and high-end clothes and handbags. Stella had one simple rule when it came to picking out items to stock in her store; if she would wear it, it was on a rack for sale.
As I walked through the door, Stella shrieked and rushed over from behind the counter to give me a hug. She was a beautifully slender 32-year-old black woman with whom I had been friends for as long as I had known Ezra. She was the first wife I was introduced to, and we hit it off right away.
She was about five foot five inches, with silky chocolate brown skin, and microbraided hair which she always wore up in some intricate bun. She was an impeccable dresser, smelling of Calvin Klein’s Euphoria, with thick burgundy lips paired only with dark black mascara, which framed her light brown eyes. Stella was gorgeous and did not need anything else to supplement her natural beauty.
She had been an up and coming designer at the time I met her, with some minor success early on in her
Learning to Kill: Stories