“What are you over there cheesin’ about?” My best friend Monica asked me. I looked at her and started smiling harder. “Nothin.” I answered and then giggled. “Nothin. Hehehehe.” Monica mocked and scooted her chair over to my cubical. “Mon, go back over to your cube, before somebody come over her and say something.” I tell her, while trying to look like I’m finishing notes. “Please, I’m a grown ass woman. If I wanna scoot my chair over to another cubical, then that’s just what the hell I’m gone do. Now, what’s with all the damn smiling and giggling?” I laugh at her at shake my head. That’s my girl loud, ghetto, and nosey. But ma always has my back and that’s why I let in all my business. “Well?” she beckons after I don’t say anything.
“Let’s just say I did a little growing up last night.” I said plainly, mocking Justin’s analogy about me being a big girl now. I looked at Monica who was staring me up and down and then a wide grin broke out on her face. “Oh, no, this bitch did not go out and give up her v-card and didn’t call nobody.” She said loudly. “sssshhhhh!” I put my hand over her mouth and looked around to see if anyone had heard her. Luckily for her wasn’t nobody paying attention. “Damn, Mon! You want a microphone next time you tell my business?” I say letting my hand fall from her mouth.
“My bad girl, but damn did it really happen. When? How? Who? Or better yet where, cuz I know your moms be trippin and she ain’t gone let nobody get down at her house, even though you pay the bills.” And she’s off talking a mile a minute. I swear sometimes it’s hard to keep up. Monica is one of them Spanish chicks that speak like she’s in a telethon and throws Spanish in every fifth word of her sentence. “Selena, me no specke Latin hoodrat. Slow down. And for your information I was with Sly last night.” I tell her breaking into another big grin.
Monica looks at me like I said that I eat babies for a living. “What?” I ask. She doesn’t say anything, she just scoots back over to her cube and starts typing. “Come on, I was just playing with the Selena thing, Mon, you know that.” She looks over to me and the face that she’s giving me is saying everything excepted ‘I forgive you.’ I scoot over to her and wrap my arms around her. “Monica Quiere, what is going on?” I ask. She finally turns to me and says. “Your being an idiot, that’s what’s wrong with me. You’re messin around wit Sly. Liv, are you crazy?” I roll my eyes and then go back over to my desk. I knew I should have kept this to myself. It's no secret that Sly was one of the biggest connects in L.A. Everyone knew that and everyone cared.
Justin “Sly” Timberlake had spent the last seven years of his life building an empire foundationed by drugs and clean up. He was the filter that every major drug cartel went through to get the best cocaine and weed from oversea and across the border. There was always an unmarked vehicle, with some undercover cop inside waiting for him to mess up, parked across the street from where ever he was at. But they were pointless because Justin had washed his money three times over, buying stock in big fortune 500 companies and pioneering several record labels and restaurants on all hemispheres of the earth.
Even if the FBI got a chance to audit and raid his homes they couldn’t prove file play or larceny because every luxurious car, house, and accessory could be accounted for. Olivia knew that in some circles Sly was known as the modern day Tony Montana, and that is exactly why she had dodged him for three years. Blocking every advance that he through her way with a plausible accuse about how she had to get home and take care of her mother. She wasn’t so naïve to notice the looks that he was throwing her way every time she would leave her brothers apartment to walk home. But she was determined to not be another statistic. Another product of a sexual hit and run that was Sly’s Mo.
Her brother, Rich, had been telling her for years to keep her head down and ignore all of the grown ass man hanging outside of the liquor and corner stores trying to holler at her. He had made her damn near sign a contract stating that she wouldn’t let anyone so much as kiss her cheek, especially not his running partner for the last 15 years, Sly Timberlake. And she had complied. Trying not to take notice to every cleft smile or subtle touch that he gave. That was until he had parked in front of her at the bus stop the other night and practically begged her to let him drive her home.
She had got into his car and expected a quite ride, but it didn’t take her long to realize that he wasn’t taking her no where near her house and instead was heading towards the freeway. “Where are we going?” she asked looking out of every window in the car. “Home.” He said plainly and then kept driving. “Justin, I don’t live no where near here. Stop playing, come on. Take me home.” She said. He stared laughing. “I am.” “Jus-“ she was about to protest again, until he put his hand up signaling her to be quite. “Look, O, I’m tired of playing cat and mouse. It’s getting old. Do you know how many girls wanna get wit me? How many girls wished that I was hounding them like I do you? I been looking at you for the past couple of years now and I’m tired of the chase. So from this moment on, you mine, and ain’t nothin gone change that. So stop the bullshit and accept it.” He said and kept driving. So with that she sat back in her seat and after thirty minutes of silence, ten minutes after stepping foot into his house, she was naked and accepting him.
***
“No I’m not crazy” I answered Monica. “Mon you don’t know him, the real him. I know that he’s kinda on the wrong path right now, but Mon he’s getting everything straightened out.” I continued. She gave me a disgusted look and then scuffed. “Let me guess he told you that while he was sliding off your virgin panties. Please Sly ain’t going no where near straight and you know that. You’re being stupid, Livy. He is dangerous, mami, and when you have the cops at you back door and a couple of Scarface wanna-bes at her front door. Don’t say that I didn’t warn you, Si?”
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