Wild Cherry Read Free Page B

lips on his. I watched them without watching them as they chatted it up for a few minutes before exchanging numbers and saying their good-byes. The slut in the tight dress was the first to boogie, big ass swinging as she went. A few ticks after that, the man in the Braves cap took the muffin and coffee he had ordered and left, too.
    The minutes felt like hours as I waited the agreed-upon ten minutes before I was to leave. My date walked me out to the curb and waited around until I got into a taxi. He was a better person than me, because I sure as hell wouldn’t have stood around with that weight on me. It wasn’t until I was off 125th Street that I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My days in the game were so over.
    I had the taxi let me out at 135th and Fifth, in front of the bank. I walked into a store to get another pack of cigarettes, because I had lost the five-dollar pack in my rush to get out of Starbucks. My hand shook like Pookie in New Jack City , but I’d finally managed to get my cigarette lit when my green Honda Accord pulled up to the fire hydrant. Flicking my ash, I climbed in to the passenger seat and faced the sharp brown eyes staring out at me from under the Braves cap.
    *   *   *
    â€œYou did good, baby,” Slim leaned over and kissed me. There was no passion in the gesture, only approval. On his breath, I could taste the lingering sweetness of red Alizé, the only kind of liquor Slim drank. “That lil move paid off nicely.” He tossed the envelope the slut had passed him onto my lap and merged with the light Fifth Avenue traffic.
    Just thumbing through the cheese, I figured it to be somewhere around five thousand, maybe a little more, but not much. I flipped through the bread once more before shoving it into my knockoff Bourke bag. It was a good little move, and we could damn sure use the paper, but I couldn’t help but keep thinking that I could’ve gotten a year for every dollar in this damn envelope had something gone wrong. This was far from the life my mother wanted for me. I kept my game face and turned to my man.
    â€œYeah, it was a nice lick, but I ain’t fucking around no more,” I told him, trying to keep my voice from giving away my uncertainty. Slim was my lover, my friend, and my father, so going against something that he believed in felt funny. For damn near as long as I’ve known him, I’ve never been able to tell him no. Even when I put the pieces together, I still found myself loving him. Of course, the first thing he does is trace his finger from the back of my ear, down my neck, and across my collarbone. Bastard is using my spot against me, but I gotta stay strong.
    Slim eased closer to me and placed his hand on my thigh. “Don’t go rabbit on me now, baby. I thought we was trying to get this money up?”
    â€œYou know I am, but drugs ain’t my thing,” I told him.
    â€œPrincess, we in the street, ma. We gotta get it how we live.”
    â€œI feel you, Slim, but they’re giving out too much time for that shit, and I’m too pretty to go to jail.” I pulled down the visor to check myself out in the mirror. Before meeting with the guy in Starbucks, I had applied a layer foundation that was two shades lighter than my actual mocha skin color. I was paranoid to the tenth degree, but it wasn’t without reason. My face was correct, as usual, but I was starting to get bags under my eyes. I needed to slow down.
    â€œSo, you’d rather keep shaking your ass in them dives for shorts, instead of getting this long money?”
    I rolled my eyes. “Shaking my ass won’t get me time.”
    â€œBut those backroom dances will,” he muttered, loud enough for me to hear. It was a low blow, and he and I both knew it.
    I sat stiff-backed in my seat and turned around to face him. “Nigga, you got some nerve. It’s them backroom dances that hold you