Promises
By Fewthistle

“Do you have a quarter?” Kelly asked innocently.

“Why do you need a quarter?” Serena responded, digging to the bottom of her bag to pull out some change.

“I just do,” Kelly hedged with a sly smile.

Taking the quarter, Gaffney pushed back her chair, the legs scraping against the scarred floor of the pizza joint. She disappeared toward the cash register, returning a minute later, clutching something in her fist.

“Give me your hand,” she demanded of Serena, who, with a puzzled look, complied. Grinning, Kelly slipped the garish, faux gold ring onto Serena's finger.

“What happens when it turns my finger green?” Serena laughed.

“Well, then I'll buy you something blue,” Kelly intimated.

“Blue?”

“Tiffany's blue,” Kelly answered, her eyes promising much more than her words.