Larceny Read Free

nice bankroll and a down-ass bitch.
    I considered a few females that I was dealing with at the time, like Barvette. She was one of the top-flight broads in the city. Barvette looked good, and she had a business head on her shoulders, but the only thing about her that I couldn’t get with was that she fucked around with too many major niggas. She wasn’t looked at as some freak-ass hood rat. She was more like a female player who knew how to play her cards right. She was the type of female you could take anywhere and she’d adjust to the situation.
    At one time we were considered almost an item. We had the most fun together. Although I still saw her every now and then, I still couldn’t put her down with my move. It had been rumored that she was now dating an NBA star who played for the Washington Wizards. When I found that out, I just knew there was no way to fit her into my plans.
    There was also Keda, who I called my gangster bitch. She had the total package: a pretty face, pretty eyes, nice body, nice job, education, good pussy, bomb-ass head, and was down for whatever. There was one area Keda lacked: she had two little boys from a previous relationship—not to mention they were bad as hell—and kids were not a part of this move.
    Lastly, there was Peppa. Pep was cool. She fit all the criteria but only one thing: she was too much of a hood rat and loved the party life. Pep was the type of female who would walk into a business meeting with a Donna Karan Spandex suit and tennis shoes on. I definitely couldn’t use Pep.
    What I needed was a straight-up educated but down-for-whatever, no-children female. Face it; I needed a real live straight-up bitch like in Bonnie and Clyde.
    Ring, ring, ring. As I got up off the floor from doing my daily routine crunches to answer the phone, before I could even say “Who is it?” I heard a panicky voice.
    â€œHello? Jovan? Jovan! Are you there?”
    â€œYeah, I’m here. Who’s this?”
    â€œIt’s me, Mark.”
    â€œDamn, Mark, I’m supposed to be off today, remember?”
    â€œYeah, yeah, I know, but right now I need you. It’s urgent.”
    Damn, usually I was the one telling a lawyer I needed him. “Okay, what’s up?” I asked.
    â€œWell, I need you to come down to the office and categorize a few cases for me and help format this motion for this evidentiary hearing we got coming up. I’ll be calling you from court, giving you certain cases in between the hearings, and you can fax them to me,” Mark said.
    â€œDamn, Mark, why’d you wait so late to file this motion?” I asked.
    â€œBecause the court didn’t give the proper notice of service that one of my clients was just granted this evidentiary hearing on appeal.”
    â€œSo you mean to tell me this is an appellate case?”
    â€œYeah,” he said, “and I’ve got these fuckers by the balls.”
    I laughed. “That’s good then. Who’s the client you’re representing?”
    â€œHis name is Bilal. Bilal Davis.”
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    Sonya
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    As Jovan and I entered the restaurant, we were greeted by a young, shapely white waitress.
    â€œHello, and how are you? Welcome to Phillips waterfront restaurant. Today’s menu includes our lavish seafood buffet of grilled tuna, baked salmon, lobster bisque, filet trout, and the soup of the day is shark fin chowder. The patio will be open until three o’clock, and we have a smoking and non-smoking section inside,” the waitress said.
    I wondered if Jovan smoked, because that would be a complete turn-off. I looked at his lips to see if I could see any traces of purple that most smokers have. My cousin has the darkest lips ever from smoking, and every time we go out, it’s a must that she cover them up with bright red lipstick. Since I wasn’t able to detect any signs of smoking on Jovan, like the smell of his clothes, yellow-stained