"Fine, but keep your hands to yourself," she warned him.
After Colt had eaten two bowls of Brunswick stew and several helpings of cornbread, they cuddled up in her bed, where sleep found them after three episodes ofHalo. Colt didn't think he'd be into sci-fi shows, but that's one thing that set Starlah apart from the other girls. She never ceased to amaze him.
In the wee hours of the morning, Starlah's cellphone rang back-to-back. She didn't realize how hard she'd been sleeping until she felt Chevy licking her face.
"Ugh. Enough, Chevy. I'm up." With eyes still closed, she fumbled around until she found her cellphone. "Good morning." She yawned and tried to stretch, but had little success as Colt's arm was wrapped around her body.
"Wait, what did you say!" Her eyes flew open, and she almost pushed Colt off the bed. "Come to Jessie's Tavern?"
It was Logan Randolph, her father's attorney and family friend.
"Yeah, Starlah. Something's happened. I'd rather not tell you over the phone."
"Like what?" She panicked, looking around for her shoes. She had to get there.
Logan felt horrible, calling her and hearing her stumble over whatever was in her room.
"Matter of fact, stay put. I'll send someone to come and pick you up."
"No, I'm coming!" She shoved Colt. He sat up, confused, rubbing his eyes.
"Colt, we have to leave!" He glared at her, watching her put on her sneakers and a hoodie over her head, but still in her pajama shorts.
"The fuck are you going like that? You know how niggas are."
Star was immediately disgusted. Colt was the last person with the right to question her when, clearly, something had to have happened to Lucky. She couldn't believe she'd almost fallen for his bullshit again.
"No, but I know how you are," she spewed, tossing one of his sneakers at him. "In fact, get the fuck out of here, and don't come back."
Chevy's growl was different this time, saliva slowly descending from his mouth as he took steps toward Colt.
"And trust, I won't call him off. Get the fuck out now!"
Logan had long hung up. He had no clue who was at the house, but he couldn't take any chances if Starlah had gotten herself in a bind during an already tragic time for her and her family.
The Night Before
"No luck," Whistle announced with slumped shoulders. "Fucking Griffin really did fuck us over."
Lucky and Whistle were huddled up at the bar in the back, drinking as they sat there, feeling defeated. Contessa, who maintained their inventory for sales, huffed and dragged her hand through her hair as she sat with them. She couldn't believe what she'd heard. Lucky could barely stare at her, but he decided he might as well level with the others because it impacted them, too.
"He fucked himself over," Lucky corrected him. "We'll bounce back. We have no choice, but that doesn't mean he gets a fucking pass."
His eyes floated to Whistle, silently issuing a message. He hadn't worked out all the details, but more was on the line than the fifty grand they lost to Griffin. He stood to lose his entire farm, even the mechanic shop. He didn't even factor in the free pantry they ran to help those who couldn't afford to keep their refrigerators stocked.
"What do we do until then?" Contessa probed. "The pantry's running low, too."
"Push out more produce and shipping," Luck replied. "Use some volunteers."
"And the mechanic shop?" she asked when he shot daggers in his direction.
That was his labor of love, and where his Starlah thrived. It wasn't a moneymaker. They pretty much repaired friends' vehicles solely for the cost of parts, occasionally for labor, but that was how huge Lucky's heart was.
"The mechanic shop will operate as is. Starlah will continue to hold it down, and it keeps her busy."
"So we keep giving our services away. Got it," Contessa muttered when Whistle hummed, silently, begging her to back off. "It's true, Whistle. We're stretching ourselves thin, and then this."
"I know."
