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Raja knows better! She goes from one ball player to the next. My girl loves her an MLB nigga.
I ain’t sayin’ she a gold digga, but she ain’t fuckin’ wit no broke niggas. IKTR Raj!
I looked at the time, and damn near twenty minutes had passed. Juicy said she was gon’ call me right back. I started to text her, but my phone rang before I could. It was Sav.
“Hey, Juvie,” she said, huffin’ into the phone.
“Wassup? You good?”
“No… I’m on the side of the highway. Roadside said they were forty-five minutes out. My dad is out of town, and Emery is at an away game. I hate to ask, but could you come get me? It’s getting dark, and I don’t want to sit out here.”
“Yeah, that ain’t nothin’. Send me your location and cancel your roadside. I can get somebody to come get your car. Get back in your car. I can hear the cars flyin’ by.”
“Okay. Thank you so much. I didn’t have anybody else to call. I’m sending the location now.”
When the location pinged, I saw that she was only fifteen minutes away from my house.
“I’m only fifteen minutes away. Stay inside your car and keep your heat on,” I said.
“Okay. Thanks again.”
I hung up, then threw on a hoodie and some sweats, and grabbed my keys. Before I left, I called my cousin Jante. He ran a tow business, and I knew he could get her car. The cold air smacked me in the face as soon as I opened the door. I pulled my hoodie up, mad as hell that I didn’t put a fuckin’ hat on. As soon as I cranked the engine, the heat kicked on. I put the location in the GPS, and my music cut on at the same time.
“Lemonade” by Gucci popped on, and I couldn’t do nothin’ but laugh. This was Juicy’s shit. She rapped it word for word. It ain’t matter what we had goin’ on, or where we were, she wanted the speakers knockin’. I pulled out of my driveway, thinkin’ ’bout how simple life was back then. Just kids, but even then, she had me runnin’ around just to be wit’ her.
It was the middle of July. The block was packed, and I had Juicy outside wit’ me. She was in the passenger seat of my truck wit’ Gucci blastin’ through the speakers, her feet hangin’ out the window, and her sketch pad in her lap. I was rollin’ dice, takin’ niggas’ money.
“Bitch ass nigga! Gimme that!” I spat, snatchin’ up Jon Jon’s money.
“Fuck you, Juv. You only doin’ all that ’cause Juicy out here.”
My lip curled, clenchin’ the money in my hand. “You don’t call her no mufuckin’, Juicy. It’s Sav to you niggas. Fuck wrong wit’ you?”
“Look at this nigga. Rey take yo’ fuckin’ head off ’bout his Juicy, Jon Jon.” My cousin Jante laughed, puffin’ on his blunt.
“Yeah, whatever,” I said, glancin’ at Juicy.
She was already watchin’ me, smilin’. Her braids looked good, pulled up in a bun. Her nails and toes were painted bright ass pink. It was the same color as the purse she had on my dash. I got up and walked toward her.
“We leaving?” she asked, closin’ her sketch pad, then turnin’ down the music.
I leaned closer and tossed my money in her lap. “Nah, not yet. What you drawin’ today?”
She glanced down at the money, then back at me. “You.”
“Drawin’ me? Why?” I asked.
“Because,” she said, lookin’ away from me.
I laughed, shakin’ my head. “You actin’ shy now, Juicy? Answer my question.”
“Because I like your face. It’s handsome.”
“Come ’ere…” I said, pullin’ her closer.
She ain’t fight it; she just moved closer until her face was a few inches from mine.
“You pretty as shit, Juicy. You gon’ gimme a kiss?” I asked.
