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“I’m thirty.”

“I would’ve guessed twenty five, but I’m kind of relieved that you not.”

“Why is that?”

“Bitches in their twenties are childish and tend to be clingy on a nigga.”

“Clingy? Clingy in what way?”

“Calling me all day, wanting to be under me. Feeling like some shit is missing when I’m not around. That kind of shit.” He replied.

“I don’t understand girls like that. I mean everyone needs their space. Why be that way?” He shrugged his shoulders and put his arm across the back of the booth.

“Who knows. You might find out why one day.” Duke flashed a smile.

I smirked back at him because the way he answered that question told me exactly what he was trying to imply. I was tickled by it because, of course, he would answer the question like that. Duke is for sure unhinged, but he is kind of funny, and being nice to me for now.

Duke and I made small talk as we sat inside the lounge sober, but having a pretty interesting conversation. He told me about his love of his truck and even showed me a picture of how it looked before he put the work into it. It was a Ford 250 Super Duty, lifted way higher than it came. He told me it was always dirty because he does a lot of off roading and he hunts in his free time, well when he's not watching soap operas.

When he pulled up a picture of the truck when it was clean, I saw that it was nice as hell. The color even looked better without all the dirt splattered on the bottom of the dark blue paint.

The food came out and it was great, much better than anything I’d eaten in the past few weeks besides the Cava his brother got me. After I finished eating, we chilled there for about an hour before Duke suggested we go to another spot he knew of. Hopefully he doesn't have to fight for us a table there.

I followed Duke out of the lounge to his truck, where a skinny man in torn clothing was running a towel across the truck, a spray bottle in one hand and a bucket at his feet. If that was all he’d used, it was amazing what he’d managed to do with nothing more than a spray bottle, a towel, and a bucket.

Duke walked over to my side to help me into the truck, and with one low grunt, I was up and inside. He walked around the back to the drivers side and handed the dude washing his truck a bill, before hopping in.

We pulled off and Duke and I headed out onto the crowded streets, passing bars and clubs on this side before we turned out onto the feeder road near the highway.

Duke put it on an old school song, Love TKO and was vibing until I started to notice him staring at his rearview mirror.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, you good. You’re always good with me,” he replied, turning right off the feeder down a side street, that took us into a dark residential area.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a car swerved in front of Duke’s truck, making him slam on his brakes before three dudes jumped out of the car in front of us.

Duke laughed through his nose, confusing me because I was scared.

“These niggas couldn’t let that ass whooping go, I see.” He put his truck in park.

Once I got a good look at them, it was the same dudes from the club earlier who Duke had attacked for that table. They didn’t have any weapons drawn, but that still didn’t mean they didn’t have something that could hurt us.

“Wait right here.” He reached for his door handle.

“Duke, let’s drive off. They aren't worth addressing.”

“Nah. That’s too much like running from these niggas. I’ll be right back.”

Duke opened the door and jumped out the truck.

Jesus, what is he about to do now?

Chapter 16

Duke

“Yeah, bitch ass nigga. I know you didn't think you were getting away with that shit at the lounge back there.”