Page 72 of Save Room for Us

“Nah, that’s them bitches you used to fucking, that can’t spell without autocorrect.”

He chuckled, smoothing the errant strands of my curly bun back.

“You was a fucking daddy’s girl, huh?”

“I was. We were close.” Grinning, I continued, “I’ve never wanted a brother and was elated when I learned I was getting a baby sister, but during that horrible time with my ex I wished I did have one.”

“You had Bashar.”

“No, not proper for me to go to him for shit like that. Goes against sister etiquette.” I half smiled but Asif remained serious. “And I’d never forgive myself if something happened to Bashar because of me. My sister wouldn’t either. She’s obsessed with that man.” I smirked but Asif held his serious expression.

“So you wouldn’t want Leeci to ask yo’ nigga for help in the same situation?”

“Of course I would. Shebetterask for help. But she’s the little sister, I’m older, I can’t do that. I’m supposed to take care of myself.”

“Not no more, love. Whatever it is you need, even if it’s to check a muthafucka for bumping into you at the store, I got it. I’ll do whatever for you and baby girl back there,” he stated, and I nodded, leaning up to kiss him. “Even though she stole my Crayons like Deebo and ain’t thank me.”

I let out a loud laugh before sinking my lips back into his.

“I feel good when I’m with you. I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing but you make me forget about the predicament I’m in,” I admitted.

A smile formed on his perfect lips before he said, “I feel good when I’m with you too. You make a nigga think about corny shit like putting up a Christmas tree, family dinners, and all them cuffin’ season activities.” We shared a chuckle before he got serious. “I like that I can trust you, love. I don’t feel that way ’bout too many people, especially women unrelated to me, but you different. You care a lot about the people in yo’ life and will put ya neck on the line to make sure they good. Ain’t too many muthafuckas genuine and loyal like that. Even though you used to looking out for everybody you fuck with, that ain’t what I’m here for. I want ya loyalty, of course, but I want you to put ya feet up for once. Relax and let a nigga put his neck on the line foryou. You understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I nodded, caressing the side of his face as I peered up into his eyes. “And you’ll be loyal?”

“Always. I don’t forge real relationships on anything but loyalty. You the only woman a nigga ever wanted to be loyal to.”

“I don’t knowwhat half this shit is, but it’s good.” Free slurped on the oxtail as we sat inside of a Jamaican restaurant off Pico. The food was aight, but I’d actually had real Jamaican food, so the shit felt like going to Olive Garden for true Italian.

“Nigga, you flinging shit everywhere, and I’m ’bout to lose my fucking appetite.” Low frowned as I chuckled.

“You see me shielding my shit,” I said, guarding the small plate I’d gotten just to have something on my stomach.

“What’s up, y’all?” Milan strutted in off the street, dressed like she was about to be in a rapper’s music video.

“What’s good?” Free eyed her as she switched around the table to sit in the empty chair next to me.

“Why y’all so quiet now? Y’all was just laughing, joking, and everything.” She set her purse on the table.

“What you doing over here, Milan?” I asked, trying to ease the awkward ass moment.

I was annoyed like I usually was when it came to Milan. She was pretty and would do anything to make sure a nigga busted, but outside of that, she was like a gnat that never went a-fucking-way. Not to mention, she had no fucking couth or manners. Everything I’d explicitly told her not to do, like coming and kicking it with me and my niggas, she did it. Had she been my girl, the requests would remain the same, but the fact that she wasn’t made the shit even more irritating.

“I been texting and calling you, but you haven’t replied to me.”

“Aww damn,daddy, why you been ignoring Milan?” Free joked, and when I shot him a look, he and Low stopped snickering like schoolgirls.

Free was cool, but the nigga joked too often and was too old for the shit at twenty-eight. Low, I let him get a pass since he was much younger. Both knew how to get to work though, so the small shit, I could deal with.

“I been wanting to talk in person, but I haven’t had the time,” I spoke honestly.

“Well,” she huffed, “I been on social media all morning arguing with a bunch of hating ass hos.” She retrieved her phone from her purse as Free and Low got back to eating. My appetite was barely there and had now vanished completely.

“Why, Milan?” I asked dryly.

“This thirsty ass bitch… hold on.” She moved around on her phone, nails clacking against it. “This ho Frankie don’ made a whole page dedicated to Milan’s Fits claiming I’m a scammer and I don’t send people their shit.” She showed me the profile named after her online boutique.

“Did you send the shit?” Free quizzed.

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