Page 3 of Jagged Edges

“Wheeew. I swear. Every time I think you’ll return a changed man, I find out I’m wrong.”

Shrugging, I suggested, “So, quit thinking. You’ve never been good at that shit, anyway.”

“Whatever. My head is good for other shit, though. You should know that.” Sliding her tongue across her teeth, she eyed me from a short distance.

“I do,” I acknowledged, knowing all too well what Cash meant by that.

My dick swelled in my jeans at the mere thought, but I didn’t act on the urge. I had shit to do and it didn’t include lying between her legs. Not yet, at least. If I could help it, I’d refrain during my entire trip. Cash could be convincing, mainly because she was always around, but the tip we’d been on for the last decade was slowly becoming a thing of the past for me.

“Then, where are we headed? My place or yours?” She proceeded, rubbing my rigidness through my jeans as she waited for me to confirm our location.

“I’m not sure where you’re headed, Cash, but I’m headed home to catch up on a few things before preparing for my night,” I let her down as easy as I knew how.

“What do you mean you don’t know where I’m headed, Bello?” she hissed.

“I’m not sure how simpler it can get. I need you to drop me off. That’s it. That’s all.”

“So, you had me drive all the way up to this airport without any plans of giving me any dick?” She belted.

“Cash,” I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose upward and then back down again. Repeatedly, in an attempt to remain calm.

“Na, nigga. Cause you foul as fuck for that. Why the fuck did you even want me to come get you, then, Bello? If it wasn’t to fuck?”

“You insisted,” I reminded her.

“So, you could’ve told me no! The fuck?”

“I did,” I reminded her as well.

“My nigga, that shit don’t…” She trailed off.

Before she could continue, I’d opened the passenger door and stepped out of her ride. A headache. That’s what Cash had become for me. The only time she was tolerable was when she had just gotten some dick from me or was trying to talk her way into some dick. Whatever the case was, it always involved dick, which was the reason I’d taken the offer off the table for the last few months. She was a much better friend than partner.

“Where the fuck are you going?” She screamed behind me.

Loud.

Rude.

Loud.

Conniving.

Loud.

Uncouth.

Loud.

Ghetto as fuck.

I reentered the airport considering Cash’s traits, ones that I hated most. They were the main elements of her makeup and why we’d never gotten very far. Ultimately, resulting in random hookups and simply keeping in touch. Sometimes, even that was a little too much for me to handle.

With age came experience. After experiencing women of nearly every caliber - as long as her skin was infused with sweet melanin and her roots ran deep - I’d come to the conclusion that I had a type. And, unfortunately, Cash simply didn’t fit the mold. As beautiful as she was, beauty was all that she possessed. Underneath that shell, she was bare. No brains. No morals. No potential.

Inside the airport, I searched for the signs leading me to the pick-up stations. Taxis, ride-sharing services, and buses linedthe sidewalks, waiting for their next passenger. Strolling past them all, I stepped inside of the small booth where Carriage Luxe was housed. The fleet of foreign vehicles within their terminal was at their client’s expense and included a personal chauffeur.

“Bellooooo!” Danny, the owner/operator sang aloud.

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