“OMG! It’s really you. Can I take a picture please?” a young girl no older than seventeen
or eighteen asked.
“Of course. What’s your name?” I questioned.
“Kelsey,” she said.
I extended a hand toward her, and she screamed, causing the entire restaurant to look at
us.
…
An hour and a half later, Tripp sat in the passenger seat. I had the music up, bumping to
the latest track from Kendrick Lamar. Tripp tried to turn it down, and I slapped his hand away.
“You know I don’t let anybody fool with my music.”
“Are you going to that party this weekend?” Tripp asked.
“Yeah, Sarai has me as the VIP guest. I’m getting paid to appear,” I replied.
“Cool. I might swing through. But what’s up with your boy, Ralph?” He used his
nickname that only came out when someone had something negative
