Ace
“Damn. You an eighty-year-old deacon?”
I smile, rolling my fingers over the Chick-O-Sticks on the counter in the empty bookstore. “Teach the kid how to talk and she turn around and sneak diss. I thought we was cool after breaking bread? That’s fucked up, brodie.”
“My t-lady and brother taught me how to talk. Not you,brodie.” Phat rolls her eyes while I lean over the counter, eyeing her little fingers pulling the Chick-O-Sticks from underneath mine.
They’re decked out with the type of things girls obsess over—long ombré coffin shaped acrylics and rhinestones. She pops her gum and I like the sound of it just like I like the sound of her voice. The memory of her soft drawl from dinner led me from another practice and straight into the bookstore just to get a chance at hearing it again after Bryson gave up where she was when Marquise asked about her.
“My girl had to close at work tonight.”He grinned.
So today me and Dough were the first ones out the locker room.
She chews harder on the gum and her fat cheeks jump up and down. “This it?”
“Yeah, unless you want something.”
“I can buy my own shit.”
I snort out a laugh, pulling my wallet out and digging my credit card from the folds. “It’s more fun when I buy it though.”
She stops, holding one stick in her hand and squinting at me. “Fun for you or for me?”
“For both of us.”
That answer makes her smack her lips and snatch the card from my hand, but I know better. I’ve fucked enough women to know that smacking lips and snatching means I better stay my ass right here because she needs attention. She’s angsty today—cursing at me when she knows better and snatching things out of my hands like we didn’t have amomentthe other night after dinner. She’s a nut I have to crack and I don’t mind it.
“Whatever,” she replies.
“I’m just saying, if you need it, I got it. Us weak ass niggas be the most loyal.”
“If you finally searching for an apology for what I said, you ain’t getting one.”
“I don’t accept apologies, so I guess we the same type of people. How’s Mom?”
Her eyes dart away as she swipes the card and hands it back to me. “Cool.”
“Hm... cool like she ate a big ass breakfast this morning or cool like she threw it up?”
The plastic from one of the Chick-O-Sticks crumples under her fingers, and she stops moving to stare back at me. “Why you be eating candy all the time?”
“I like sweet stuff.”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Be for real.”
“I am. You asked, and I answered.”
“Yeah... but your answers be real slick like you talking about other stuff.”
Morelittle lady shit.
I chuckle, pulling the one she’d been holding from her fingers and tearing it open. “I don’t be talking about nothing but the subject. Why you trying to control the vibe,Lourdes?”
“Why you such a control freak?”
“Because you said I could be.” I break the stick in half and thrust a piece toward her. “Here. Tell me something good before niggas come up in here on some weird shit.”
Thatmakes her laugh like she knows I’m talking about Brandy and her tone deaf ways or Bryson and his constant tabs on her whereabouts.
