“She’d never believe you.” Her sister gestured to the array of palettes scattered across the leathered granite vanity. “If I gouge myself in the eye with this thing, I’m telling Mama it was your fault.” Her knowing smirk nullified her weak attempt at innocence. “What?” Denise asked with wide, guileless eyes. She swung around and glared at her sister. “Dammit!” Samiah nearly poked herself in the eye with the eyeliner brush. “He knows I sometimes have to fake it with him too.”
“Oh please.” Denise batted the air as she adjusted her position on the toilet seat cover. “Make sure you don’t say that around your husband.” Samiah glanced over her shoulder and grinned. “You know you can’t fake this kind of thing, right? Your students will see right through it.” Tugging her lower lid downward, she muttered as she swiped the thin brush along the rim of her eye. She capped her Fenty Beauty 410 foundation and traded it for the liquid eyeliner. The opening bars of Drake’s “Best I Ever Had” began streaming through the HD speakers discreetly positioned throughout the condo. That’s why I asked the damn Alexa thingy.” Denise lumbered into the bathroom, plopped onto the toilet’s closed lid, and palmed her substantial belly. A moment later her sister appeared in the doorway. Muffled footfalls shuffled across the bedroom’s alder hardwood floors. Releasing an intentionally loud, dramatic sigh, Samiah Brooks lolled her head toward the opened bathroom door and called out, “Don’t just tell it to play a certain artist, Denise.
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