Noodle gasped. “Okay, flirting!”
“No I’m not. I’m complimenting the interface.”
“Don’t nobody compliment the interface unless they trynainterface,” Ahvi said, cracking herself up.
Before Aku could clap back, her phone buzzed again. One new message. She flipped it over. “Damn, he quick.”
Key: Code keeps my people safe. Strands keep ‘em sane. Both come from the same hands.
She read the message out loud.
“OH!” Aku screamed. “He poetic and shit.”
“He poeticandemployed,” Ahvi said. “Girl, that’s marriage material.”
“I didn’t even know I liked nerdy dealers,” Aku whispered, almost to herself. “But here we are.”
Malik doubled texted.
Key: You always this friendly or am I just interesting enough to want to talk to?
She read it out loud, and the phone slid down her thighs like it was too hot to hold.
“Oh, he got time today,” Noodle laughed.
“Girl, blink twice if you need us to come save you from catching feelings,” Ahvi added before she burst out laughing too.
Aku sat back, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers. “What do I even say to that?”
Noodle leaned into the silence. “Be real. That’s what you always say. Say what you feel.”
Aku bit her lip, letting her fingers hover for a second, then typed:
I’m a friendly person. Not too friendly though.
The Barnette Building was loud in design but quiet in atmosphere. Aku’s office sat on the tenth floor, tucked in the corner with gold lettering that read “Aku Banner.” Inside, the scent of vanilla and fresh peonies met anyone who walked in. The space was girly without being childish—warm pinks, clean whites, and gold-accented furniture. The walls were covered in framed covers from Black Excellence Magazine, Billboard, Teen Vogue, and GQ, all with credits that tied back to her name. Organized chaos lived on every surface—mood boards stackedon the side table, fabric swatches pinned to a cork wall, iPad charging on the desk, half-finished sketches and call sheets clipped in the corner.
Niah sat on the couch, legs crossed with her laptop open. She was dressed for work but never pressed. Black tights, oversized tee, curly hair pulled into a loose puff. Aku was perched on her rolling chair, slides on her feet. Her nails clicked against the desk as she flipped through a paper schedule.
“We got six months mapped out, but I still feel behind,” Aku said, glancing over the itinerary.
“You’re not,” Niah replied without looking up. “You just want to be ahead of what’s already ahead.”
“I’m a visionary,” Aku smirked. “But also… slightly neurotic.”
They both laughed.
“Okay. So… first up, we got that premiere in LA. You’re styling Lennox and possibly Zariah. Lennox wants that dusty vintage look again. You remember the mustard set you pulled for that BET thing?”
“The two-piece with the leather trench?”
“Yea. He wants something like that but with a 90s hip-hop spin. He sent a whole Pinterest board this morning.”
Aku rolled her eyes. “Of course he did. That man be treating me like a damn genie.”
“Better than treating you like a personal shopper.”
Aku tapped her pen against the table. “Facts.”
