trust me, she is just my best friend.”
“Okay, I hear ya, Mr. Fresh.”
“I see somebody got jokes.”
“I do.”
“I like that.”
“Oh, you do?”
“Sure do. I like Sevyn better.”
“That what I’ll call you. My name is Tara.”
“Tara!”
“That’s right, the one and only.”
“That’s such a cute name.”
“Whatever! Don’t try and butter me up.”
“I’m tryna give you a compliment. I like the name Tara.”
“So, Fresh, I mean Sevyn,” she laughed, “is that your Benz?”
“Yes, ma’am. So, Ms. Hazel Eyes, I mean Tara, is that your Lexus?”
“I’m driving it, ain’t I?”
“That don’t mean nothing. People ride around showing off stunnin’ in other people car every day, sweetie.”
“Well, this is my car, and I’m not your sweetie.”
“You will be in due time.”
“Yeah, whatever!”
“Tara, what are you doing later, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Nothing much. I have no plans.”
“Okay. So is it cool if I get your number and hit ya later?”
“That’s cool.”
“Maybe we can go out and get a bite to eat and have a drink or two.”
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
“Yes, I am, Hazel Eyes.”
“Then a date it is.”
“How about 8:00 p.m.?”
“Sounds good to me. Hey, Sevyn, don’t have me waiting on you all night.”
“Trust me, I won’t, Hazel Eyes.”
Tara couldn’t help but start blushing, loving the new nickname Sevyn had given her. “All right, Sevyn, I’ll see you later.” Tara pulled off slow, and Sevyn just stood there smiling, thinking to himself, Damn, I’m the man.
Moments later, Sevyn jumped into his car and sped off, jamming to his favorite song by Master P, “Gangstas Need Love Too.” Sevyn had the prettiest Benz ever—peanut butter inside, twenty-two-inch Asanti rims with a candy wine berry burgundy to top it off. Sevyn had that candy looking good enough to eat. Sevyn started bobbin’ his head to the music. He switched lanes, making a left on to 37th Street to hit the highway. Sevyn was swerving in and out of traffic, feeling the music. When he got on to the highway, he made a quick stop to the store to get gas, play his lottery, cash 4 numbers, and purchase three lottery scratch-off tickets. When he got to the counter, he told the cashier to give him $25 on pump four and told the cashier he wanted to play cash 4.
She said, “Sir, what are the numbers to play?”
“Let me get 1717, 1010, $1 straight and $1 straight box and three jumbo bucks, that’s it.”
“Okay, your total is $34. Here you go, sir. Thank you, come again.”
Sevyn approached the gas pump and began pumping his gas. When he was finished, he jumped back on the highway, thinking to himself, Today is my day. Imma hit the lottery today. When Sevyn made it close to Tracy’s neighborhood, he flipped open his cellphone and dialed Tracy’s number. After the third ring, Tracy answered the phone, singing and reciting the words to Trina’s song, “Da Baddest Bitch.”
Sevyn burst out laughing and said, “You wish.”
“You know what, Sevyn, fuck you.”
“Baby girl, I know you wish you could. But anyway, I’m on the way to pick you up, so we can go check the dude Rich out. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Okay, fo sho. I’m ’bout to get dressed now.”
“Twenty minutes later, Sevyn pulled and hit the horn. Tracy’s front door flew open.
“Sevyn, she coming,” Tracy’s fourteen-year-old son, Ny’quan, shouted. Seconds later, Tracy came out the house, and Sevyn’s mouth dropped. Sevyn thought to himself, Damn, Tracy’s sexy as hell. He never really looked at Tracy like that, but for some reason, her pretty round ass is sitting right in her Christian Dior jeans, and he was noticing it. She jumped in and closed the door.
“So wazzup, Fresh? How you feeling?”
“I’m feeling like I look. Good girl, what you expect?” he laughed.
“I guess. Hey, Sevyn, let’s go get something to eat. Where you want to go?”
“Red Lobster.”
“You got Red Lobster money?”
“Nope, but you do.”
Fifteen minutes later, the two pulled up to Red Lobster and went inside. The waiter asked how many seats, and Tracy said two. The waiter said, “Okay, right this way.” When they were seated, the waiter said, “Someone will be with you shortly to take your order.” While they waited on the waiter to come take their order, Sevyn began to ask Tracy about the shawty from the cookout.
“Aye, Tracy.”
“Wazzup, Sevyn?”
“You remember the shawty from the cookout with the hazel eyes?”
“Yeah, the one who left you standing on the curb.”
“You know what, Tracy, go to hell.”
“Whatever! But anyway, what about her?”
“I caught her riding up my street and hollered at her.”
“Yeah, right.”
“For real, we going on a date tonight at 8:00 p.m.”
“Be careful. It’s something about that girl that just don’t sit right with me.”
“What makes you feel that way? You don’t even know her.”
“You right, I don’t know her, but I’ve been in her presence a few times and I get fucked-up vibes when I’m around her. Even filing about her says gold digger money-hungry bitch.”
Sevyn thought, Maybe Tracy is jealous. And just before Sevyn opened his mouth, Tracy spoke. “And I’m
