“Ew, Jelani. Get off me,” she whined, half-heartedly pushing him away. He whispered something in her ear that made her bite her lip and stifle a giggle.
He kissed her on the mouth, gave her ass a squeeze, then breezed past me without so much as a nod. He disappeared into her bedroom and shut the door behind him.
I gave Monica a look.
She gave me a half shoulder shrug and flopped back onto the couch. “He’s drunk. I don’t know what he’s on tonight.”
“But I thought?—”
“I’ll let him sleep it off tonight and block him tomorrow. I’m over it,” she said, waving her hand. She wasn’t fooling anybody.
And clearly, this wasn’t the first time they’d done this dance.
“Okay… let me get out of your hair then.” I stood.
“No, stay!” she insisted. “He’ll probably pass out after he showers. He won’t even come back out.”
I side-eyed her hard. “A shower? He got clothes here? Bye, Monica. Handle your man, and I’ll see you later.”
“He’s not my man!” she protested, standing.
“Uh huh. Okay,baby doll.”
* * *
It’d been two weeks since my fallout with Cash, and he still hadn’t reached out—no calls, no texts—not even a damn carrier pigeon. Meanwhile, Marcus had been applying pressure, hitting me up every day to check in, but mostly asking when we could meet up. I kept brushing him off, blaming my work schedule, but I knew that I couldn’t keep using that excuse.
Marcus: Why you avoiding me, Juicy?
I swear I’m not. I’ve got a few weeks left on this contract and I’m trying to stack my bread.
Marcus: Yeah aight. This got something to do with the nigga I saw you with at the soul food spot?
No, he’s not my man.
Marcus: So what’s the real issue then? Why you can’t make time to catch up with an old friend?
Old friend my ass.
I left him on read and swiped to my thread with Cash.
His last message was from the day he picked me up for lunch. I stared at it for a second, lips pursed, debating whether to say something.
I could just say “hi.”
No. Fuck him.
I blew out a frustrated breath and tossed the phone into my bag.
It’d been a long ass day at the hospital—there’d been another wave of ODs with back-to-back codes, and the only thing I’d had for lunch was a warm protein shake. I was starving, and my head was pounding. All I wanted was to lie on the couch, bra off, after a hot shower with my phone on Do Not Disturb.
The parking garage was still muggy from the rain earlier. The fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered overhead as I twirled my keys in my hand.
“What the fuck?” I stopped short.
My tires were flat. All of them were slashed to shreds. The back window was shattered. Glass was everywhere—on the pavement, in the backseat.
This had to be a sick joke.
