Boyfriend Season Read Free

right?”
    Santana walked beside her, shouldering her dressed-up boosting bag and rocking her black and purple high-heeled Air Jordan 8s. There wasn’t a soul who could tell her she wasn’t a showstopper. Pausing in front of a store window, she checked her reflection. Fingering the top of her hair that was expertly spiked in a Mohawk, she turned sideways and admired how her graduated length cascaded down her back. Even if I didn’t grow this, no one can tell me my hair isn’t fire.
    â€œI do, but wrong mall. Louis is in Phipps Plaza across the street. You always forget.”
    â€œRight. Phipps. Too expensive and too much security for me. I’m not trying to get locked up again,” Meka answered, capping her lip gloss and putting it in her purse, signaling she was done and ready. “You’re cute. Come on,” she added, interrupting Santana’s beauty session.
    â€œI know. You too.”
    Meka grabbed her wrist, then pushed Santana’s hair from her face. “What? When did you get these,” she asked, fingering Santana’s earrings. “These are ultra hot!”
    Santana blushed. “Pharaoh had them made for me. If you look carefully, you can see Ps in the design,” she squealed, proud of her man.
    â€œThat’s what’s up. He’s claiming his woman! Now it’s time to get to work.” Meka tilted her head; then they both nodded. If they were going to boost, they decided long ago that they’d better do it dressed to the hilt so they would be inconspicuous. Being raggedy would make security hawk them.
    A crowd of dusty teenage boys walked past them and headed back toward the entrance of Macy’s. Rundown sneakers, last season’s clothes, jeans sagging too low and voices talking too loud, they were definitely targets for mall and department store security. They were also the distraction Santana and Meka needed to keep them under the radar.
    â€œGuess Macy’s it is,” Santana said.
    Â 
    Silencer bag filled to capacity, Santana exited the third store they’d hit and headed toward the escalator. Her adrenaline rushed, her heart raced, and she was sure she was shaking. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to turn around to look to see if they were being followed. She was nervous. Just nervous , she told herself.
    â€œWe need to go upstairs. That’s where the Js are,” Santana said, leading Meka through the mall, past the Starbucks, and finally to the escalator. “One of us needs to buy something. I’m gonna cop the Js for Pharaoh.” She stepped on the ascending stairs, then turned around so she could check their surroundings while she was speaking to Meka. “We’re good. Nobody’s thinking about us.”
    Meka’s expression was twisted. “Why you buying Pharaoh something? Shouldn’t it be the other way ’round?” she asked, hopping off and following Santana.
    Santana laughed, then entered the store. “Girl, nah. He always buys me stuff. A pair of Js ain’t nothing. Plus, for what I’ll get in return . . . it’s a good investment. Anyway, I want my man to look good.”
    â€œDon’t keep him looking too good. You know them floozies at your school be after him. Especially Nae.”
    Santana sickened. She couldn’t stand Nae, her ex-best friend who’d gone after Pharaoh at a party. “Meka, forget it. Don’t even bring it up. He don’t want Nae. How could he . . . after this?” Santana swung her weave while strutting over to the men’s sneaker section. She grabbed the new Js and Ones off the display, then asked a salesperson to bring her a size-twelve pair of each.
    â€œHmmm. Don’t ever say what ya man won’t do. K?” Meka said, following Santana to the counter.
    Santana turned on her three-inch-heel Jordans. “Why Meka? Is that a warning or a hint? You know something? Talk to your girl, Meka!”