“You a clown.”
“Woo, aight. I’m done,”he said, still chuckling.“What you on today?”
“Shit. I took a personal day. ‘Bout to go pop up on Karima then go check Julissa.”
“My nigga, Big Love.”
“Oh, you on a roll today, I see.”
“Who you bringing to the tournament with you this weekend? And tell me it’s Julissa.”
“How you gon’ ask then try to choose for me? What if I was bringing them both?”
“Bro, I been told you Julissa cool. It’s Karima that act like a fuckin’ latchkey kid. If you bringing her, make sure you stop by Pet Smart or the nearest animal shelter to get her a support dog. It’s a lot of bread on the line for this tournament. Ion wanna tweak out cause you decided to wander off, and she down my neck asking where you at.”
“Aye, chill on my baby, my nigga. You kinda doing the most about a spades tournament. You straight?”
“Nigga, stop acting like you don’t know how intense this shit can get. We going $500 a hand. I gotta focus.”
Mav had been throwing his annual spades tournament for the last three years. It was really a big ass cookout in Jackie Robinson Park that the hood looked forward to, an event where everything was free and people could enjoy themselves and not worry about some shit popping off. Mav and his team made sure of that. What started out as something small had become an event that he took pride in putting together.
“Ion know who coming wit’ me, but I’ll be there. Money on the table too, nigga. I’m coming for it all.”
“I hear you talkin’. I’m changing it up this year. I been listening to everybody crying about not being able to choose they own partner. Which means y’all ain’t really like that, by the way. But I digress. I’m letting everybody who’s signed up for the tournament bring they partner. I’m flying in the goat, so he can really show y’all niggas how to do this shit.”
“Who? Uncle Cliff?”I questioned.
“You damn right,”he said slowly, and I knew his ass was skinning and grinning without having to see his face.
“Nigga had to go and get a ringer. That’s wild.”
His uncle was a gambler and nothing to fuck with on the spades table.
“Call it what you want. You betta bring a hitta if you comin’ for that bread.”
“Heard. I’ll be there.”
“Copy. I’ll hit ya line later this week.”
Ending the call, I pulled up to Karima’s boutique in Soho and found a spot right in front. Turning off the engine, I grabbed the flowers and stepped out of the car. Walking up to the door, I pulled it open just as two women were walking out.
“Girl, cause I… oouu, thank you, handsome,” one of the women said, showing every tooth in her mouth.
“No problem, love,” I replied as she took her time exiting.
“Bitch, if you don’t go head on before I get a ticket for parking by that fire hydrant,” the woman behind her said, lightly pushing her forward. “You all ‘bout to drool and shit.”
I chuckled, shaking my head, and continued inside.
“Welcome to True Vanity boutique,” Karima greeted from behind the register in the corner of the store. She looked up from her phone and paused when she saw me.
“Hey, baby,” I spoke, flashing my signature smile.
“Ain’t no hey, baby. Where you been, Khi? I’ve been calling you,” she questioned, walking from behind the counter and over to me with her face screwed up. Stopping in front of me, she crossed her arms tightly across her chest.
I scanned her from head to toe. Her hair was in her signature, blunt cut bob, framing her round face. The halter top dress she wore had her titties pushed up and out for my viewing pleasure. Karima was beautiful, five foot eight with a model stature. She had legs for days and easily resembled the singer, Kelly Rowland. Instead of responding to her, I leaned in and planted a kiss on each titty then trailed up her neck, stopping at her ear.
“Hey, baby,” I repeated, and she shivered.
