Page 36 of Solomon’s Temple

“Go crazy, baby. Whatever you want, I got you.”

“This better not come with stipulations.”

Nate smirked at me. “Nah, just some stimulation,” he said, wagging his tongue at me.

I shook my head, hiding my amusement. As I looked through the racks of dresses, my phone chimed. I reached inside my bag and pulled it out to see a text from Solomon. My heart fluttered, and my stomach deflated when I saw his name on my screen.

Curiosity and wondering what excuse he had to give me had me hurrying to open the message.

Holy Ghoster:

Get that nigga out your face, love.

I frowned and looked around the store to see how the hell he knew I was out and with a man at that.

Holy Ghoster:

Don’t make me pop out and show homie how I used to get down. I already had to repent for what I did to the last nigga.

I hit the reply button.

Me:

You got your nerve, Casper! After all the shit you said to me, you turn around and act as if you don’t even know me. Keep that same energy, lil daddy.

Holy Ghoster:

You only got about sixty seconds before I crash out, mamas.

Me:

Crash out? not the saved and sanctified talking about crashing out. Don’t be a hypocrite, sir. Please stop texting me. Do what you do best and disappear, baby.

Holy Ghoster:

Yeah… a’ight, shorty.

I tossed my phone back in my purse just as Nate walked up behind me.

“You gon’ model them dresses for me, baby?”

“Actually, I want to shop abroad.”

“Abroad? What you mean?”

“I want to go to Milan, Italy. I want the real and authentic designer wear.”

“Shit, this shit is real and authentic, baby. It don’t get no realer than this.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “If you don’t got that kind of money, just say that.”

“I got the pape’, Temp. Don’t try to lil dog me. If I’m spending that kind of bread, then we must be getting married down there too.” He sized me up while licking his lips. I had to laugh because there was no way in hell I’d marry Nate. I saw the red flags all over him when he grabbed me that night at the club. He clearly had a hand problem and had bitch fits when he didn’t get his way. I saw the toxicity. I’d rather get my foot chopped off than be locked down by someone like that.

“She’s already spoken for, homie.” I spun around and saw Solomon sitting in a chair by the dressing room. He was dressed in some navy-blue tailored slacks, rust-colored Allen Edmonds oxford dress shoes, a matching belt, and a tailored white button-down. He had one ankle resting on his knee, sitting coolly with a magazine in his hand, not even looking up at us. Looking like his name should be Zaddy McSnackmeal.

Jesus. You did your big one with this man. I thought, trying hard not to lick my lips.

“What?” Nate asked. “Temp, who is this nigga?”