CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
RICH
I chasethe back of Slim’s ponytail as she barrels through the crowd with her hand over her mouth.
“Lovie!” I yell, shrugging folks’ hands off my shoulder as they try to pull me back.
Blood trickles down my forehead and leaks over my eye. I swipe it away, keeping my eyes on the purple Worthing Boxing logo on the back of her sweatshirt. The further she runs, the sparser the crowd gets until she ends up at the very back of the garage.
She pushes between two dudes and takes a sharp left, making a beeline toward the door that leads to the cashier’s window.
“Stop!” I holler.
She shakes her head and yanks the handle, and I stick my hand between the crack and catch it.
“Lovie!”
She power-walks past the cashier’s window.
“Hey, you can’t be back here during fightin hours!” Ms. Kathy hollers, dragging her finger across her phone.
Slim ignores her and charges down the narrow hallway toward the side door while the happy Candy Crush noises ding from Ms. Kathy’s phone.
“Pup, she can’t be back here during fightin hours,” she grunts.
“Yeah…I know.” I huff. “I’m…I’m tryna catch her?—”
“Mhmm. Well, you ain’t trying hard enough…and don’t track no blood back here either. We ran out of bleach?—”
Her voice trails off behind me as Slim throws her upper body against the side door and stumbles outside.
I swipe another trail of blood from my face and run faster.
I feel her slipping through my fingers the further away she gets. Something happened between now and last night. I felt it as soon as I stepped into the pit, just like I felt it when I got to the park yesterday, but I should’ve known something was coming because I know better. I know making love and pillow talk won’t change the course of my life, but I’m weak, so I let my mind get muddled by the warmth of her pussy and the hope in her voice when she talked about rewriting legacies.
I ram my sore body against the side door and push it open. As soon as I step outside, I find her falling against the side of the building, gurgling up a mouthful of pale throw-up. It splatters on the ground while her nails dig into the concrete wall.
I take a cautious step forward, like I’m back in my kitchen, finding her for the first time.
“Lovie…” I mutter, reaching out to touch her. “You okay, mama?”
She shakes her head and heaves up another mouthful of whatever she ate before she came looking for me. Her back curls, and she lets out another desperate gag.
“C’mere,” I rasp. “Lemme take a look at you.”
She turns toward me with those soft whiskey-colored eyes and a wet mouth. The sickeningly sweet and sour smell of her throw-up floats between us.
“What you doing here?” I ask. “I…I told you to wait for me at Kenny and Faye’s and I’d be by there. You know better than to be down here.”
Her eyes jolt down, grazing my busted knuckles where Primo’s blood had dried over the bits of my exposed flesh.
I step over her throw-up, and she steps back—pushing her body into the side of the building.
I crook my finger. “Come let me clean you up.”
She shakes her head again.
