“Look but don’t touch.”
He sucks his teeth.
She leans over me again with my welt teasing me from the back of her neck because she twisted her braids into a bun as soon as we pulled into her driveway. The humidity has her edges curled along her hairline and a layer of sweat covering her chest where her gown splits open.
He examines her little fingers as she bites into a bear claw with a grin. “Yuh hear dis girl and all dis rassclat noise ‘bout a pissin’ tail man, Junior?”
“I hear her,” I rasp, swiping my tongue out because I think I can taste the sweat on her skin.
I hear the bold ass words she told Blake over dinner. I see the shy smile she gave anybody I introduced her to. I still feel her elbow in my side anytime she felt me drifting into myself because of all that talk about a tarnished legacy Blake brought up.
“Meh nuh see nothing different ‘bout dis hand.” Gus laughs, pushing away from the truck’s hood and rounding it. “Look like de same likkle hand to me.”
“Get that hate out your heart, pimp!” Phat screams between chews as he climbs back behind the wheel.
When the car door slams all their noise stops except for the little hums she lets out between chews. Her eyes scrape against my bare stomach as my dick twitches from the innocent sensuality she exuded throughout the night. Her stare reminds me I have one more thing to teach her before I send her back to Earth and let Bryson take her to the last party of the summer.
“Come show me that hand,” I say, cocking my head back.
She thrusts it out and wiggles it in front of my face.
I blink hard. “I’m not Gus.”
Or Bryson, or Blake, or any other man she might come across when I let her explore Earth.
She rolls her eyes with a sheepish smile. “Oh, you on Earth now? You been on Planet Ace since we pulled up.”
“Yeah... been up there waiting on you to come home, but you too busy screaming about Hakeem Olajuwon and spending our money on nasty bear claws.” I yank an arm from behind my head and pat the part of my stomach she keeps staring at—the part that says LA. “Bring your ass here and show me what you all geeked up about.”
She chews the rest of the dough in her mouth in slow, grueling motions like she did with the tuna tartare. It takes a minute for her to drag her body close to mine—too long, but I let it slide.
A loud screech echoes through the night air from her knees rubbing against the truck’s paint. When she swings her leg over my stomach, my hand clenches for the drink I’ve been wanting ever since Blake fucked my head up outside that ballroom. Her warm middle makes a gush of blood rush through my veins toward the head of my dick. It’s so hot that I’m thankful for the scrap of lace Cree picked out for her to wear in the name of “no pantylines” because I can feel her lips against my stomach.
“Let me see that hand.”
She pushes it forward in a slow motion until I snatch it and bring it close to my face.
“The Dream, huh?” I smirk.
She nods between chews but the rest of her body grows still. The rhinestones Sunny dotted onto her nails catch the moon’s light and twinkle while I examine each finger, with Blake’s assumptions and accusations floating in the back of my head.
“He ain’tThe Kid...” she mutters between chews. “But the nigga still goated.”
A laugh bursts out my mouth. “Shit, he made the Rockets back-to-back NBA champs.The Kidnever did no shit like that.”
“Yet...”
“Didn’t you hear what Blake Harvey said? I tarnished a legacy.”
“Fuck that Carlton Banks ass nigga.”
My stomach cramps so hard from laughing that I forget the bitter taste of those words coming out of my mouth for the first time. Times like this and words like those remind me that Phat’s still a little lady.
“He never even looked you in the eyes when he was talking to you,” she says. “Can’t trust a man that can’t look you in the eyes when he’s talking about delicate things.”
But then she’ll say shit like that and remind me she’smylittle lady.
“Oh, so you care about who this ‘weak ass nigga’ can trust?”
