It was designed to search and destroy ahead of time, or so it promised. Her older sister had recommended it, along with Yam Cream and Cat’s Claw tea and several other potions, poultices, and elixirs to ensure youth for many years to come. Just then, from the mirror, she noticed Chance watching her from the bed. He wore a half-smile, an almost sarcastic smirk—if she wanted to go there in her mind. “Thanks for the dinner, baby,” she purred, avoiding all mention of Juanita getting the first taste. She was leaving tomorrow and the trip was all that was on her mind. “Anything for you,” Chance responded, climbing from the bed and walking up behind where she sat facing her vanity mirror. He ran his hands over her shoulders and kissed the top of her head, before moving her hair and kissing down the back of her neck. “You smell like a pie,” he teased. “All these fruity greases and creams,” he joked on, looking at the labels of her miracle mixes. “Stop, Chance,” Rashawn mumbled, hiding her humiliation.
