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turned up one side of her top lip. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “Whaddup, youngin’? Are you getting in my whip, or are you planning to walk your ass back to the basketball court?” She gave Monroe a smirking smile.
    Realizing that acting sullen wasn’t going to prompt Misty to relieve his painful erection, Monroe zipped up his jeans and slid in the seat next to her. “Take me back to the court,” he mumbled, frowning.
    Misty started the engine.
    She cruised along, her thoughts on Brick and getting him more work.
    “What you did was real cold, yo. How you gon’ get yours and leave me hanging like that?”
    His whining and complaining was annoying—he was really starting to piss her off, but determining him too big and too fired up to physically eject from her ride, she decided to forego cussing him out and instead, she turned on the charm. “Can I get a rain check? I’ll swing by the court same time tomorrow night, aiight?” She gave him a sweet smile.
    Displeased with the proposition, Monroe blew out a deep, frustrated breath.
    Fuck you , she thought. “We can get together tomorrow,” she said and then touched his arm softly. “Aiight, baby?” She’d thrown in a dash of sugar, just to see if her game was tight.
    Monroe gave a reluctant nod and then turned his head toward the window. Just before he looked away, Misty saw a glimmer of hope flicker in his eyes. She had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. She was just messing with his head when she’d promised him a rain check. You can wait if you want to; but don’t hold your breath! she thought maliciously.
    In less than five minutes, Misty was back on Parkside Avenue. She slammed on her brakes and double-parked next to a Benz. She kept the engine running silently, informing Monroe that she didn’t have time for any last-minute chitchat.
    “So, uh, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night, right?” he asked glumly as he opened the door to get out. When his two cronies, Muscle Boy and Ashy Cashy, approached, he became suddenly chipper. “Aiight, shawty. See you tomorrow. Be safe!” Monroe added in a cavalier manner after he closed the passenger door.
    Oh, no this nigga ain’t frontin’ for his boys. “Hold up,” Misty shouted. Monroe turned around, his eyes sparkled with hope. She reached in the back and scooped up her yellow thong and sent it zinging out the window. Monroe raised his hands reflexively. The thong hit him in the face before dropping into his hands. Monroe gawked at the soft yellow fabric and then turned a puzzled gaze at Misty.
    “That’s a little something to remember me by,” she said scornfully.
    “Shawty slapped Monroe in the face with her panties,” Ashy Cashy ridiculed, feeling redeemed from the scorn she’d inflicted on him earlier.
    Misty sped away. The loud scoffing laughter of Monroe’s crew became a distant hum; a murmur in the wind.

CHAPTER 6
    B rick was furious. Misty hated it when he mustered the strength to ignore her. However, being much smarter than he, Misty knew she’d come up with an idea that would break his resolve. With her eyes squinted in thought, she stepped out of the shower, prepared to seduce her way back into Brick’s good graces.
    She towel-dried her hair. No blow-drying tonight. Brick loved the feeling of her long, wet hair being dragged across his body.
    “Still mad?” Misty asked as she strolled into the couple’s bedroom, wearing just a towel and shaking her wet hair; allowing droplets to land on Brick’s bare arms. The pungent aroma of weed filled the air. Brick sat on the side of the bed, puffing on a blunt.
    “Yeah, I’m still mad,” Brick barked, refusing to suppress his emotions. “And stop flicking water on me.” He wiped the moisture beads off his arm.
    Too angry to further enjoy his favorite pastime, he dropped the blunt in an ashtray, and then flopped down on the mattress, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.
    Slyly, Misty unknotted the towel. Naked,