I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly. “You have millions stashed away? You say that like that’s normal.”
“Every Duncan has a rainy day plan, Sonya.” He planted a kiss on my lips, and this time I didn’t push him away. “Now, get dressed. We have to go.”
And that became the moment I decided to put my life in the hands of the only man I had ever truly loved.
Paris
14
As Sasha and I rode up Guy R. Brewer Boulevard and turned down 110 Street toward Forty Projects in her sky blue Bentley convertible coupe, we were looking fly as hell, as usual. I was sporting all white, from my eyeliner and lipstick down to my diamond-studded toenails, and Sasha was rocking sky blue with navy blue accessories to match her $150,000 dollar car.
She parked in front of building number five, and we got out of the car like we owned the place. Sasha leaned against the door, and I posted up along the hood of the car, looking like we were on a photo shoot. It didn’t take long for damn near everyone on the block to notice us, especially the dope boys. Just as we knew they would, a couple of them sitting on the stoop got up from their place of business and approached us.
“What do you think? The one on the right’s kinda cute,” Sasha whispered to me as they headed our way. Leave it to Sasha’s horny ass to point out the obvious.
Dude wasn’t cute, though. I mean, he was fine in a Drake kind of way and had plenty of swagger, too, but he wasn’t for me. I’d been craving a dark chocolate thug like his boy walking next to him for a minute. Too bad he was a little young.
“They a’ight,” I replied, “but let’s keep it professional. We’re not here for dick. We’re here on business.”
She nodded, leaning back on the car.
“What up, ma?” the Drake lookalike said, looking at me like his dreams had come true—kind of like a little boy imagining that the pinup girl on the poster in his bedroom had come to life.
I almost felt sorry for Sasha. She’d basically called dibs on him, yet the brother was staring so hard at me that he hadn’t even noticed her. Sucked for me too, though, because his pretty-ass dark chocolate friend was paying more attention to the car than to either of us.
“How can I help you ladies on this fine day?” he said with those little-boy dreamy eyes of his.
I wasn’t moved by the attention he was showing me. I could get the same attention just taking out the garbage in my robe and slippers. But I did want something, and so I played up to it. I gave him this knock-’em-dead flirtatious smile I’d been working on. “Either of y’all seen Lojack?” I gave him a sexy once-over.
They exchanged a knowing look before the Drakelooking one said, “Oh, you two must be working girls. That nigga Lojack be buying some * like a motherfucker.” He rubbed his hands together and licked his lips. “But damn, I’m sure your two fine asses is setting him back a grip.”
“What the fuck you say?” I snapped, totally losing my cool. I’d been mistaken for a lot of things in life, and yes, I was a high maintenance kinda bitch, but I was not to be confused with a street-walking hooker. I was about to open a can of whip-ass on this punk-ass nigga, but Sasha stepped in.
“Yeah, we working girls,” she said, throwing her hands on her small waist. “You want some of what’s under this skirt?” She leaned in, slowly running her tongue across her upper lip. “I’ll give it to you for free.” She lowered her hands to the hem of her skirt, and the dudes got so excited they looked like they were about to jump out of their skin.
Sasha lifted up her dress just enough for them to see her thigh holster and her .45. She popped the strap of leather that held the gun in place, and then touched the grip like she was massaging a dick. I know she wanted to blow the light-skinned one away for not paying her any attention.