Page 255 of Kentrell

Then Lex…

Then Wave…

Finally made my way over to Wani still sitting posted on the sectional… dapped him up, too.

I grabbed one of the still-zipped duffels and started toward the door.

“Aye, nigga! You can’t leave this here like that,” Lex called out behind me, pointing at the two bags still sitting on the table.

“It’s clean,” I told him, not breaking stride.

Pushed through the door…

Zigzagged past strippers, staff, and patrons without saying shit to nobody…

Got back to my truck, tossed the duffel in the back…

And pulled off.

Next stop… Star.

Turning down 46th and cutting across to King Drive.

I didn’t bother turning the music on. Didn’t need it.

My mind was already loud enough.

I ran a mental map of her usual spots—South Shore, Chatham, 79th, and of course, the low-end blocks she still dipped through whenever she felt like being seen.

But something told me to slide further west.

Sure enough…

By the time I cut down 63rd and slowed past Halsted, there she was.

Coming out of some hole-in-the-wall hair salon with a fresh blue bob swinging, laughing with one of her little friends like she ain’t have a care in the world.

Still the same Star.

Still playing cute.

Still moving like she ain’t got a trail of burnt bridges and bad karma behind her.

I pulled the truck right up to the curb just as she stepped off it, barely missing her heel.

The sudden stop made her jump back, damn near drop her phone.

“BITCH! What the fuck?!”

Her face twisted for half a second… until she saw it was me.

Then she smiled.

Wide.

Too wide.

“Damn, Kentrell… scared the hell outta me.” She laughed, shaking her head, already walking around the hood to the passenger side like she belonged there.

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