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world she wanted it to turn out like Unique’s. Maybe this was why she had been so guarded, so protected. But now her walls of safety were gone .
    Around two or three that afternoon, Sinclair, while sitting on the steps out front of the apartment building, spotted Finest coming up the street in a Cadillac Escalade. He was driving slowly and spotted her.
    She bounded off the steps and ran out to the driver’s window, not showing at all that she noticed he wasn’t riding around looking for her. Truthfully, how could he know she was there?
    â€œWhat? You living over here now?”
    Sinclair gushed. “Wow! You ain’t neva lied. You got a car.”
    â€œYeah, baby. I told you I did. You thought a nigga was lyin’?”
    Actually Sinclair hadn’t thought anything more about Finest’s words until this moment. Aside from Malcolm, who’d already said he would come to see her and which he hadn’t done yet, she figured she’d have to put the P in the back of her mind for a while, at least until the house was rebuilt.
    â€œWell, no, but—”
    â€œThen get in. I know you wanna go for a ride.” He pushed the button that unlocked the doors.
    Sinclair grew instantly excited. Looking back at the apartment building, she remembered leaving the door unlocked, but she didn’t feel like running up those five flights or waiting on that slow elevator. Besides, she wasn’t about to miss this opportunity and would surely be back from this ride before Unique got home. It was bad enough she had to be in this neighborhood, let alone stranded in it, sitting on the curb. Then again, what did Unique have that anybody could want?
    Climbing in the Escalade, Sinclair then noticed the two other guys in the backseat, who were way past faded, and the once muted music she’d heard while standing outside the car was now blasting E-40 at high decibels.
    â€œHeeeey, shawty,” one of them said.
    Sinclair waved, only to see Finest look in the rearview mirror and suck his teeth.
    â€œDon’t be trying to get at my girl. Just sit the fuck back and mind yo’ business.”
    Sinclair was shocked at his possessiveness.
    â€œThat’s So-an’-so,” Finest introduced before she could ask. He added, “He’s a foo.”
    A dark hand crept through the middle of the bucket seat, and Sinclair looked at Finest, waiting for his nod before shaking it.
    â€œThat other nigga is my ’cuz, Floyd. You know him, Malcolm’s brother.”
    Finest held up his hand for dabs, and Floyd rose up in the back and quickly caressed Finest’s fist in a manly greeting, but didn’t touch Sinclair at all, not even a handshake.
    â€œSo, you’re the Sinclair. You my li’l brother’s wet dream. Yaddamean ?” Floyd cackled nastily.
    Finest grinned, exposing his diamond inlay.
    â€œWhat?” Sinclair knew what a wet dream was, but she’d never pictured herself as star material for one, especially not Malcolm’s.
    â€œNud’n. That foo’s crazy. Been locked up for a minute. Don’t know nud’n from nud’n.”
    â€œWhatever, man . . . telling all my business, puttin’ me on blast like that,” Floyd responded. “But, fo’ real, didn’t y’all’s house blow up yesterday?”
    Sinclair’s stomach tightened. She was on a fast track to forgetting, and this fool was bringing it up.
    â€œWhere are we going?” she asked Finest, ignoring Floyd’s rude comment about Malcolm’s private matters, and questions about her personal business. Sure, it was an explosion, but it was still none of his business.
    â€œGon’ get crunk!” So-an’-so yelled out, bucking and hollering in the backseat.
    All of them started laughing, except Sinclair.
    â€œHey, man, we oughta go by ol’ girl’s house,” So-an’-so said.
    â€œOhhhh shhhhhit! Yeah! She would see new girl riding