“Can you pass me my phone?”
“Your phone is in the trash that was picked up by the city this morning.”
He leaned over, sliding a new iPhone from his pants.
“Ishmael. What ha–”
“Nothing more than you have done, my baby.”
I was immediately reminded of the phone of his I’d destroyed. Karma was nasty in the morning.
“Where’s my phone?”
Ignoring me, he continued, “I took the liberty of giving you a new cell, one that is free of dating apps and message threads from niggas with targets on their backs now. You won’t be needing either of those.”
“You went through my phone?” My breath hiked in my chest.
“I’m many things, my baby, but stupid is not one of those. I won’t ever search through your cell. I trust you’ll tell me whatever it is I need to know.”
“And vice versa?”
He nodded.
“And vice versa.”
I sighed, running my hand through my messy hair. It was a disaster. It was evident that I’d been thoroughly fucked and fulfilled. So was my morning breath that both Ishmael and I disregarded. So was my bare face. Unclothed body. And dry mouth.
“Is there anyone special I should know about?”
“You.”
I pulled my lip in, sinking my teeth into it.
“Here. There are no codes set or nothing beyond the transferred SIM card.”
“Thank you.”
I accepted the cell and slid it underneath the cover with me.
“Do you really have to leave?”
“I wish I didn’t,” he breathed out, placing the coffee cup to his lips.
He grunted as he sipped.
“Awful.”
His nose was scrunched and his lips were turned upward.
“Then why are you drinking it, silly?”
“I’ve told you already, my baby. Every syllable from your mouth brings me closer to the danger zone.”
“You should leave.”
“I should,” he agreed.
Yet, his legs never moved. Neither did his hands. Or his eyes.
