“Pup’s,” she replies easily.
His thin lips turn down, and he eyes me as if he can see my legs trembling in my leggings. “He knows she?—”
“Nigga, you ain’t no relationship counselor. I told you that’s his gal, so she got every right to be in there.”
He holds his arms up. “I got a right to ask questions. I ain’t never seen her back here. Melo been trippin about the traffic coming in and out. Something about some young niggas posting on Instagram about the fights?—”
“And what does that have to do with us? Do we look like some lame young niggas to you?”
He huffs and rolls his eyes.
She turns toward me. “Are we some lame young niggas?”
I shake my head.
“As a matter of fact, go get Pup and explain to him why you got his ole’ lady standing out?—”
“Alright, alright, but I have to search y’all.”
“If you touch me, I promise it’ll be the last time you touch anybody.”
He steps to the side, leaving just a few inches for us to squeeze between his round stomach and the doorframe.
We shuffle through.
It’s dank and dark inside. It feels like a club with too much testosterone and every few seconds a chorus of masculine “Ohhhh’s!” rocks the building.
That same smell that clung to Arnez when she pulled up to Rich’s swallows me and I choke on it. It’s a mixture of cigarette smoke, sweat, and weed, but not the weed Rich smokes. This kind makes my eyes water.
I pull the collar of my sweatshirt over my mouth.
There’s so many bodies packed inside that Arnez has to lead with her arm. She pushes at the backs of grown men until they look down at us and move out our way.
“My fault, lil’ mama!” One of them grins down at me with a mouth full of diamonds that glitter under the dim lights.
I hold my hand out to keep a foot of distance between us. “You’re good.”
“Oh, you tryna get closer to the action?” He reaches down to grab me by my waist, but Arnez slaps his hand away before his fingers can even brush my sweatshirt.
She wags her finger at him. “Don’t touch.”
“Damn. I’m just tryna help her.”
“She ain’t ask for it!”
His eyes volley between us as the crowd pushes us closer to him. The bitter smoke sneaks through the fabric of my sweatshirt, and I curl my fingers in my hand even though I want to reach for Arnez like I used to reach for Terrica when we found ourselves in shifty places.
“What you is? Her guard dog?” he asks Arnez.
“C’mon, Lovie.” She cocks her head to the side, pushing another man.
I step forward to follow her, but the guy’s sweaty hand sneaks into mine.
“You leaving me for her?” he asks as softly as he can over the music. “C’mere. What you doing wandering around up in here, anyway? Come stand with me.”
I yank my hand, but he squeezes harder.
“Arnez!” I yell, catching the back of her ponytail as she pushes through the rest of the crowd without me.
