Page 58 of Dope Boys: Most Wanted
“Then we just gon’ be on the couch sleep. You’re not threatening me, Speechless.”
“Come on, crazy,” Reign huffed, walking out the door, snapping her crossbody bag holding her license, phone, and the money she attempted to pay Nia with. Markus had put it right back in her purse this morning when she was still asleep.
She jogged down the stairs toward the truck and touched the passenger door.
“Why you playing with me?” he grumbled from behind her. He gently knocked her hand away and opened the door.
The ride to Markus’ spot was quiet. Reign read the texts from Nia about the codes for the new salon and forwarded her applications since Markus had fired her starting staff. Markus focused on the road, enjoying the fall morning. Thanksgiving was approaching, which meant he’d have to break bread with his cousins. The idea alone made him grind his teeth.
“You’re grinding your teeth. What is it?”
“I’m not grinding my teeth.”
Reign dropped her phone in her lap and looked over at him. “You’re grinding your teeth. You do it in your sleep, too, by the way. Don’t know if anyone ever told you that.”
He shifted and relaxed into the seat. “Actually, no. No one has. Let me find out you care.”
“There you go. Grind your teeth, have a headache, I don’t care.”
“You do, and that’s okay. Ain’t shit wrong with caring for a nigga.”
“Mmhmm. So what is it?” Reign circled back to her original question.
Markus licked his dry lips, and Reign couldn’t help but stare, her mind vividly reminding her of what his lips felt like against hers. How his tongue sucked and swiped over hers. She shifted in her seat, looking down to make sure she didn’t hit the seat warmer when she got in.
“Thanksgiving is at my Aunt Lucille’s, like it is every year, and I’m not really looking forward to seeing my cousins. We got some static right now. Their egos are bruised, I’m fuckin’ furious with them, and I’m not trying to have another repeat of dinner at Nia’s.”
Reign winced. “That was intense.”
She wasn’t going to say anything about Cyn’s phone conversation. Partially because she really didn’t know who she was talking to on the phone. What she knew was that it seemed sketchy. It could have very well been how she viewed Cyn. Since their first interaction, it was clear the two would never see eye-to-eye. Reign was okay with that. As long as Cyn kept her smart comments to herself, she wouldn’t have anything to worry about.
“That was some bullshit, is what it was.” Markus huffed. “I’m still lowkey pissed that I couldn’t finish that alfredo.”
Reign chuckled. “I can make that in my sleep.”
“Where it at then?”
“You didn’t ask. You don’t ask, you don’t get. It’s that simple.”
Markus took his eyes off the road and looked at her. “It’s that easy, huh?”
“Don’t play with me,” Reign spoke with a soft snicker. “You might get some alfredo out of me, but that’s about it.”
“No, it ain’t, but lie to yourself, Speechless.”
Reign curled her lip.
“So I’m assuming I’m getting alfredo tonight?”
“When you assume you make an ass out of you and me,” she sassed. “But I suppose since there’s more clothes in my closet than I know what to do with and three rolls of cash in my purse, I could make you a funky little pot of alfredo.”
“If you’re not going to make it with love, I don’t want it.”
“Then I guess you’re not getting none.”
“Nah, I’ma get some. One way or another,” he muttered, earning a tap of the back of her hand against his arm.
“Ah! Shit!”
