Playing these niggas.
Zeek had turned my warm heart ice-cold. As much as I wanted to blame him, I blamed myself. Because rule number one in my book was tonever give a nigga a benefit or a fucking doubt.
PLAY THEM. PLAY THEM ALL. That was rule number two.
“'Cause I’m da baddest bitch!” Saga matched my energy. She, too, was down for whatever. Her two-week notice had been submitted a week and a half ago. It was grind time.
“I’m da baddest bitch, whaaa!”
I pulledinto the parking lot ofGoose, the newest spot in Dooley. On any given weekend night, you could find everything you were looking for or everything you needed to steer clear of. Old schools on enormous wheels gave the modern whips a run for their money.
The sleek paint jobs and character they possessed had become a lost art in the motor industry over the years. Cars no longer had individuality. Every car wanted to be a cheaper or more luxurious version of another car. The cycle was maddening.
Orange backlights lit the sign on the top of the building. Black ropes separated the VIP customers from the general public. Skimpy clothes clung to the bodies of women of allsizes and shades of brown. Baggy jeans barely stayed up on the asses of men. Gold teeth, diamonds, and the smell of marijuana greeted us as we pulled up to the valet.
“It’s your turn, bitch. You’ve been put up for years. It’s time to thaw that ice the fuck out,” Saga whispered near my ear.
The music was still blasting, but I heard her clearly. It didn’t matter what was being said; the music wouldn’t come down. It was the law in Dooley.
Nodding my head, I agreed. I pulled down the sun visor as I uncapped my lip gloss. I put on a fresh new coat while watching the attendant approach my car.
He was long.
Slim.
More than likely holding a rocket between his thighs.
Well-manicured.
Clean.
Handsome.
But broke.
“Evening, ladies. That’ll be $20,” he said, clearing his throat.
His nerves were rattled. It was a good sign. The fascination written across his features was an even better sign.
“Evening, handsome,” I purred, stroking his ego.
His chest swelled. His eyes lit up with glee.
I dug into the handbag on my lap. It was partially empty. There wasn’t a bill in sight because I didn’t plan on spending one. My identification, gloss, and sticks of gum were the only contents of my purse.
“Oh God,” I shrieked.
“What’s wrong?” Saga joined, knowing the play without me explaining.
“I– I must’ve forgotten to put my wallet in my purse when I switched it out.”
A line was forming behind us. I didn’t turn around to confirm. It was the constant eye movement of the valet attendant that I used as evidence. There was only one way into the parking lot and one way out of the parking lot.
“Twenty, you said?”
