Page 11 of Just Like Summer

“Fuck out my face, pussy. Keep that green ass bitch on your side ‘less you like watching her be fucked,” Tres threatened.

“Only thing get fucked ‘round here is the nigga playing pussy, pussy. Walk your tiny ass back across the street before I turn this shit into Friday the 13th, feel me?” Cairo spat, looking Tres dead in his eyes.

Tres stood still for a long moment. A silent challenge to see who was going to move first, Cairo was comfortable enough and crazy enough to stay put all night as a dare for anyone to bother him or his. Tres conceded. They may have been cousins on their fathers’ side, but they knew who was the crazier of the two. Cairo won by default. He was indoctrinated long before he picked up his first gun.

Once Tres was on the other side of the street acting as if Cairo wasn’t ready and willing to blow up the entire block, Cairo stood, rounded the hood, and got inside the car. As a show of who had the bigger dick, he drove down the block, hit a U-turn at the stop sign, and revved his engine back down the block. It wasn’t until he passed Loso Tacos that he looked over Kamilla.

“I need you to drop the stubbornness.”

“I didn’t know,” she protested.

“I know. You don’t know shit about where you at, which is all the more reason when I tell you to get in, you get in. These niggas around here ain’t like me,” Cairo defended.

She raised a brow. “No? From my vantage point, all of y’all are the same.”

Cairo let an annoyed laugh fall from his lips. “There’s all these niggas and then there’s me.”

“And who are you?” she shot back.

“The lone wolf. The one that will blow every block up and not feel an ounce of remorse about it. Out my mind? Without question. That reason alone is why you need to take heed.”

“The alternative?”

“Letting this gutter of a place gobble you up and between you and I, I think you too pretty to turn into QaMeesha,” Cairo shared, earning her full attention. “Oh, look who’s listening.”

Kamilla turned away and sighed. “At least tell me where I shouldn’t be?”

“Everywhere I’m not,” he replied.

“You’re this territorial of all of your friends?” she sassed, folding her arms over her chest.

“You my only friend, so congratulations, you get all the attention,” he replied with a wink before turning the beat back up.

“What is this beat you keep playing?” Kamilla asked after about a minute of listening to the beat clearly in need of tweaks.

“Something I’m working on,” he shared. “You not feeling it? I feel like it’s missing something.”

“It’s missing a lot. You need to level out the treble, add a snare, maybe some keys on top of the treble,” she shared with a shrug of the shoulders.

Cairo slowed to a stop before turning onto the highway. “You know music?”

She wouldn’t reveal who her father was until it was absolutely safe to do so. Safe. Yeah, this was going to be a problem. “I know a little bit. If I ever make it to OSU, I’m studying music history and business management.”

Cairo grunted, stroking the hairs of his overgrown beard. Even unkempt, Cairo was handsome, whatever he kept under that was bound to drive the women crazy. Probably why QaMeesha was willing to throw herself at his feet.

“What was the grunt about?” Kamilla asked to distract herself from staring too hard.

“You said it was missing some keys on top the treble?” he questioned, keeping his musing to himself.

“Yeah,” Kamilla answered, looking at her phone. A habit she had to learn to break because her mother hadn’t texted in months about her location and who she was with. But for the mere longing for the comfort, she texted a number she knew was off.

K: I’m safe, headed home.

She chewed her trembling lip and stuffed her phone back in her bag. A steadying breath prompted her next question. “Where are we now?”

“Highway 250, headed to the other side of Volts for Ray’s. You against a fried fish basket?”

“I’m not against anything, just keep my tab open so I can pay you back when I get paid,” Kamilla said, earning a grunt. “What?”