anthropology was my major.
Sunny could brush on mascara and smooth on foundation like her face was a canvas and she really was an artist. Her body was flawless. Mine too but Sunny’s clothes were impeccable. All the whites, reds, greens, blacks, etc., still hung together in her bedroom closet at home. Her drawers were stuffed with a rainbow of panties that had to match her bras.
Personalitywise we differed in some ways. I was like Mother and loved going to church and praising the Lord. Sunny was like Daddy. She was spiritual in her own way but she didn’t need a congregation to prove it. Her goodness shone from within.
Looking at the green and white freeway sign, I saw that the Tropicana Avenue exit was three miles away. The wind whistled at our windows, nudging the car sideways. Daddy’s tires crunched along the cement as he remained silent. My tears dried to a crust, tightening my cheeks.
Mama said Sunny had mentioned something about a bar and witches, so the first place Daddy thought of was the Las Vegas Strip. “Oh my God!” I clamped both hands over my ears. “Daddy, stop the car!”
“Summer, what’s wrong with you? I knew I shoulda left you at home. You’re makin’ me more nervous.”
“My brain is on fire! Help me, Daddy! It hurts!” Leaning forward, I placed my hands over my temples.
My dad’s eyes widened, then tightened, but didn’t close as his mouth gaped open with enough space to shove in a double cheeseburger as he plunged the accelerator. Exiting the freeway, Daddy drove into the nearest parking lot at In-and-Out Burger. Daddy’s chest flattened against my back. His arms covered my arms as he rocked me.
“It’s okay, baby girl. I’ma find her. I promise you. Let’s get you home.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” I said, feeling a little relieved.
Ever since Sunny and I were little—before we could speak a word—my parents told us we were one. When I was sick, Sunny was sick. When I was scared, Sunny got scared too. Didn’t matter if we were in the same room or miles apart; we each knew how the other felt. The occurrences became more frequent after Sunny left home.
The green-illuminated numbers on the dash changed from 10:59 to 11:00. A bright light flashed before me. I closed my eyes and whispered, “It’s too late, Daddy. I feel it’s too late.”
CHAPTER 10
Valentino
T here was only one person I trusted more than Lace and that was her man, my boy, former MVP Benito Bannister. The real reason I hooked Lace up with Benito was that I couldn’t risk having Lace get with some nosy-ass nigga who’d interfere with my sole proprietorship thinking he was smarter than the both of us because I’d have to kill his ass like this bitch right here in my office.
Summer, incognegro Sunny, had changed her name to get in the game and shit, but Sunny wasn’t the bona fide bitch I had to worry about. Lace was gonna lose her motherfuckin’ mind when she found out Sunny was dead.
Where in the fuck was Lace? I should fire her ass. If her ass was on time, Sunny would be making me money instead of…what the fuck ever. A G like me lives by the creed, no regrets. Hiring Lace to front my empire was the most intelligent decision I’d made. Quickly Lace became the mastermind behind my entire operation, installing surveillance cameras, monitors, and all that high-tech shit. She wiped out my computer records so the fuckin’ law couldn’t trace me. Incorporated Immaculate Perception, aka IP, so that tax nigga, Uncle Sam, wouldn’t sweat me. Set up my cell phone so my outgoing and incoming calls didn’t show up nowhere. Had a digitally activated fence built around my mansion near Ann Road and Rainbow Boulevard across from Walgreen so not even a golf ball from the Silver Stone or Painted Desert course could touch my property without my knowledge. And she had a wall installed around my IP joint down the way on Martin Luther King that was so high no one except Lace and my security guards got in
Sunny could brush on mascara and smooth on foundation like her face was a canvas and she really was an artist. Her body was flawless. Mine too but Sunny’s clothes were impeccable. All the whites, reds, greens, blacks, etc., still hung together in her bedroom closet at home. Her drawers were stuffed with a rainbow of panties that had to match her bras.
Personalitywise we differed in some ways. I was like Mother and loved going to church and praising the Lord. Sunny was like Daddy. She was spiritual in her own way but she didn’t need a congregation to prove it. Her goodness shone from within.
Looking at the green and white freeway sign, I saw that the Tropicana Avenue exit was three miles away. The wind whistled at our windows, nudging the car sideways. Daddy’s tires crunched along the cement as he remained silent. My tears dried to a crust, tightening my cheeks.
Mama said Sunny had mentioned something about a bar and witches, so the first place Daddy thought of was the Las Vegas Strip. “Oh my God!” I clamped both hands over my ears. “Daddy, stop the car!”
“Summer, what’s wrong with you? I knew I shoulda left you at home. You’re makin’ me more nervous.”
“My brain is on fire! Help me, Daddy! It hurts!” Leaning forward, I placed my hands over my temples.
My dad’s eyes widened, then tightened, but didn’t close as his mouth gaped open with enough space to shove in a double cheeseburger as he plunged the accelerator. Exiting the freeway, Daddy drove into the nearest parking lot at In-and-Out Burger. Daddy’s chest flattened against my back. His arms covered my arms as he rocked me.
“It’s okay, baby girl. I’ma find her. I promise you. Let’s get you home.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” I said, feeling a little relieved.
Ever since Sunny and I were little—before we could speak a word—my parents told us we were one. When I was sick, Sunny was sick. When I was scared, Sunny got scared too. Didn’t matter if we were in the same room or miles apart; we each knew how the other felt. The occurrences became more frequent after Sunny left home.
The green-illuminated numbers on the dash changed from 10:59 to 11:00. A bright light flashed before me. I closed my eyes and whispered, “It’s too late, Daddy. I feel it’s too late.”
CHAPTER 10
Valentino
T here was only one person I trusted more than Lace and that was her man, my boy, former MVP Benito Bannister. The real reason I hooked Lace up with Benito was that I couldn’t risk having Lace get with some nosy-ass nigga who’d interfere with my sole proprietorship thinking he was smarter than the both of us because I’d have to kill his ass like this bitch right here in my office.
Summer, incognegro Sunny, had changed her name to get in the game and shit, but Sunny wasn’t the bona fide bitch I had to worry about. Lace was gonna lose her motherfuckin’ mind when she found out Sunny was dead.
Where in the fuck was Lace? I should fire her ass. If her ass was on time, Sunny would be making me money instead of…what the fuck ever. A G like me lives by the creed, no regrets. Hiring Lace to front my empire was the most intelligent decision I’d made. Quickly Lace became the mastermind behind my entire operation, installing surveillance cameras, monitors, and all that high-tech shit. She wiped out my computer records so the fuckin’ law couldn’t trace me. Incorporated Immaculate Perception, aka IP, so that tax nigga, Uncle Sam, wouldn’t sweat me. Set up my cell phone so my outgoing and incoming calls didn’t show up nowhere. Had a digitally activated fence built around my mansion near Ann Road and Rainbow Boulevard across from Walgreen so not even a golf ball from the Silver Stone or Painted Desert course could touch my property without my knowledge. And she had a wall installed around my IP joint down the way on Martin Luther King that was so high no one except Lace and my security guards got in
Similar Books
