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I don’t drink while working. Have to keep an eye out on the money, so you know I can’t be drunk and do that.”
    â€œI feel you. That’s why I like you. You got your head on straight.”
    I stood up. “I’m going to be working with my dad for the next few months, so you might not see me here often. You got my number, so if you need me, reach out and touch.”
    â€œIt’s all good, fam.” Slim shook my hand.
    Before I could get to the back office, Slim’s table was filled with thirsty women. They all hoped they would be picked to go home with Slim and get access to his funds.
    I liked making money, but I liked sleeping well at night too. A job like Slim’s came with no peace. You were either worried about the cops or about the next guy who could easily come in and knock you off. Slim could have his money and street celebrity status. I had my peace of mind and his money. My services didn’t come cheap.

CHAPTER 11
Lexi
    T his was one of those days where I wanted to stay in the bed, but I wasn’t the type of woman to wallow in self-pity. I didn’t get this far by just allowing things to happen. I was a take-charge type of person, and I wasn’t about to change now.
    I’m glad Royce agreed to let Lovie work with him. My plans to get up early and cook were spoiled. The stress from the last few days affected me, and I overslept.
    I didn’t have a regular nine-to-five job, but being Mrs. Jones was a full-time job. There were plenty of things for me to do on a daily basis to keep me busy. With the way things were going at RJ Jones Funeral Home, I needed to work overtime.
    The cream-colored pant suit accented my curves. I fastened the clamp on the matching cream pumps and headed out the door. I almost tripped over the paper.
    Royce must have been running late himself. He normally read the paper over coffee. I threw the paper in the passenger seat and drove to my destination. The women, who I considered more like frenemies than friends, were already seated around the table at the bistro for our monthly get together.
    All of our husbands were prominent businessmen. There was Ruby Williams. Her husband owned several chicken shacks. Ruby and I are the same age, but she looked twenty years older. Time wasn’t a friend of hers. If she laid off the booze some, maybe she could regain some of her youth. Then again, I doubt it.
    The one wearing the bright orange skirt suit was Jackie Gray. Her husband owned a few car dealerships within the Ark-La-Tex. She’s the youngest, and might I add the dumbest, of the group. Everyone, but her, knew about her husband’s extramarital affairs. He was the biggest whore this side of the Mississippi River. There’s not a woman outside of the nursing home he hadn’t tried to sleep with. She’s wife number three. Or is it four? So, she shouldn’t be so clueless. When God was handing out brains, she got skipped.
    Last, but not least, was the Queen B. I don’t need to spell out what the “B” stood for. Her husband got his money from owning land. When the oil companies came in and leased his land, they became instant millionaires. The way Mrs. Sylvia Morrison acted, you would think she came from old money. Her nose was always up in the air. She held it up there so much, I’m surprised a few bugs hadn’t found their home there.
    When they saw me approach the table, they got up and we hugged and air kissed.
    â€œFor a moment, we thought you weren’t going to make it,” Jackie said.
    I leaned back a little and looked at her. “Why wouldn’t I be here? I have no reason not to show up.”
    Ruby and Sylvia exchanged glances. Sylvia cleared her throat. “Have you read the day’s paper?”
    Ruby said, “If it’s happening to her, she doesn’t need to read the paper.”
    I looked from one to the other. “What are you talking about?”
    Jackie placed her