Page 7 of Don Caselli

I hoped.

“You gonna answer?” she folded her arms as she stole a peek at Navy, with her head down in her phone.

Her golden skin was flustered because, with it being a packed house tonight, it was slightly warmer than usual, and the pink dress she wore seemed heavy. All the light in the room attracted toward her, as it should, and that meant the heat, too.

“C’mon now. Don’t I always answer the phone for you, Ken?”

She blushed, her cheeks becoming more red. “Tonight might be different.”

I looked back at Navy, who wasn’t paying us any attention, and then back at Kennedy. “Stop all that shit. Have fun with your friends and then call me to pick you up.”

“K.” I watched as she walked backward back to her friends, and I turned around with Navy’s kindle in my hand and walked past them toward the exit.

“I’m riding with Greene back to my crib,” Beans said, as he told the valet to bring Greene’s car around.

My car remained parked up front for everyone to see. The newbie didn’t even get the chance to drive it toward the back.

His hating ass coworkers.

Soon as they saw me, they scrambled to grab my key from the metal box. “Don, I got you.”

“Chill,” I laughed. “I ain’t about to die because my key’s not ready.”

Greene’s Ashton Martin pulled up, and Beans held her waist as he opened the passenger door for her. Menace paidboth Greene and Jeffie well, and now, with her being Stevie’s assistant, I knew the money was ten times better because Stevie was generous.

“You want to ride with me?”

She looked at the valet pulling the car over closer to where I was standing. “Hell yeah.”

I laughed, walked her over toward the passenger side and held the door open for her. She climbed inside, and fixed her dress, pulling it so I didn’t close it in the door. “Hold on, Kindle-esha.”

She smiled. “I plan to read the entire ride there.”

I rounded my whip, tipped the attendant, and then got into the car. Soon as I closed the door, I turned on “The Kid Frankie” by Wiz Khalifa and pulled away from Tiny’s, bumping my music loud.

Navy looked around the car as she crossed her legs and looked over at me. “How does it feel to be God’s favorite?”

I turned the music down but heard everything she said to me. “What you mean?”

She waved her hand around the car. “You’re Black, rich, and fine… how does it feel to be God’s favorite?” she repeated her question and laughed.

Her kindle rested between us, and I watched to see when she would pick it up. Instead, she was focused on my answer. “You Black, rich, and fine… movie star.”

“Oh, please. Every once in a while, a supporter sees me out in the wild and wants a picture. My cousin literally drives an Ashton Martin because of her boss… goes on private jets and yachts. I am also not rich at all. Answer my question or I’m going to press all these buttons.”

“Money is not everything.”

“Says the one who has it.”

I looked over as she replied to a text message and then took a deep breath. “Boyfriend?”

“Something like that,” she muttered, clearly not amused to even mention whatever nigga that pissed her off. “You and the birthday girl are a thing?”

“Nah.”

“Are you sure?” Her attention went back to her phone, and she aggressively responded, then looked over at me. “Do you mind driving me home instead?”

“Yeah, where you stay?”

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