“I put the power in your hands for you to decide, not for you to still ask me for my opinion. Who gives a fuck what I think? I’m just a stupid man, remember?”
She liked that.
I don’t know which part, though—the words I stupidly blurted or the way I touched her in front of Donovan when we both know I wasn’t supposed to do that. Shit, I’m not supposed to touch herat all.
Her eyes dart from me, to him, then back to the tablet.
Five hundred dollars later, she decided that only the women and children deserved to get scratched out of Lucky’s IOU tablet today.
Donovan scrapes a black marker through the very last name then pushes his glasses up. “Well, my lady, you have whittled this list down by at least sixty people.”
He slams the book closed, bags the Honey Buns up, and hands them to me.
Outside, DeRay had wandered off, leaving an empty can of Busch on the ground next to the door. The dope boys hang in his spot, smoking vapes and eyeing each car that drives into the parking lot.
They nod our way and avoid looking at Slim as we step off the curb.
“What’s goin on, Pup?” one of them murmurs, blowing out a cloud of smoke.
I toss a lazy wave their way, leading us toward Faye’s car where she sits behind the wheel with her arm dangling out of the driver’s side window. Me and Slim walk side by side toward pump two in a pace that feels too fast.
She keeps her stride while reaching into the back pocket of her baggy jeans. “Here’s a few dollars for my Honey Buns.”
She pushes a few crumpled dollar bills my way, but I nudge her hand back.
She snorts. “I think I can foot the bill for a few Honey Buns. I don’t think I’m that down bad.”
“Shit, I don’t think I am either to be begging a woman for three dollars. But if it’ll make you feel good, I’ll take it.”
“Why do you have to say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“‘If it’ll make you feel good,’” she mocks me in a corny deep voice. “As if you’re taking money thatIowe you to appease me.”
I chuckle, reaching down and curling my hand over her smaller one. “I don’t know about you, but I like arguing over shit that matters—not three funky ass dollars. But if you wanna argue over ‘em, we can.”
I peel her soft fingers from the wad of dollar bills and pull them from her grasp, balling them up.
She folds her lips under her teeth, making her dimples sink even deeper into her cheeks like she’s fighting with her mouth to keep it from inching up into a smile.
“So you wanna argue over three dollars or what?” I ask.
“No, Rich. I don’t.”
“A’ight. I was just making sure.”
She laughs. “You’re a very peculiar man.”
“Peculiar?”
“Oh my God. Don’t start. It’s literally an intermediate vocabulary word you learn in elementary school.”
I cut my eyes at her. “A’ight, Myra.”
We bust out laughing together even though every muscle in my stomach hurts.
When we walk up to Faye’s passenger side, I nudge Slim out of the way and fling the door open, nodding my head toward the inside of the car.
