His Yorkie had been waiting for him, and the dog got to Michelle before he did, yelping and jumping up to her knee and wagging his tail, excited for a visitor. “I’m sorry.” Rashad lifted the little thing with one hand to stop its hyper assault. “This is Shaka Zulu, my Yorkshire terrier. He’s very happy to meet you. I know. It’s kind of Paris Hilton to have a tiny dog, but he was all alone at the shelter. No, actually, he was with a whole litter. He was just cute. Tell Michelle it’s Taye Diggs or Bruce Willis to have you—manly men. Okay, yes. I talk to the dog. I think you and Andre will have fun when you meet.” Michelle was laughing fit to pee herself and hugging her middle. When she stopped, she managed to say between gasps, “And his name is Shaka Zulu?” “Yes, quite. Shaka to friends.” And she was off again with laughter, hopping up and down. “It’s okay, Shaka.
