I chuckled. "I got you next time."
Boogie leaned forward and slid his brief aside focusing on me, face getting serious. "Talk to me."
I paused rubbing my hands together. "So…I met a woman."
His brows shot up and he set down the forkful of salad in his hand. "No shit?"
I nodded. "No shit. Her name's Gianna. She's beautiful, Boog. I actually met her in the club that night."
Boogie leaned forward more, invested. "That's not the light-skinned chick that was all over you, is it?"
"Nah." I shook my head. "I met her one the way out the bathroom. Saw her on the dance floor and…I couldn't see nobody else."
Boogie smiled. "That's what's up, bruh. So," he shrugged lightly, "what's the issue then?"
My cheeks puffed out as I tried to figure out how to say it. I leaned forward, elbows to my knees, hands rubbing together. "She's a prostitute."
Boogie looked at me, unblinking. Then he laughed. Softly at first—then hard. Harder than necessary. "Nigga…" he shook his head still chuckling. "I know it's been a while, but just 'cause you met her in the club that doesn't mean she's a prostitute, frat. Damn."
I stared at him. "Boog…she's aliteralprostitute," I said seriously. "Or sex worker I should say." I shrugged. "Apparently that's more appropriate."
His laughter cut off immediately and his eyes searched mine again. "Wait a minute…you serious?"
"Yes!" I clasped my hands together. "I met one of her clients. Some hood nigga, who showed me his gun."
"What the fuck!" Boogie jumped up, face twisted in anger. "He threatened you? What he look like? I bet his bitch ass in thesystem. I can get that nigga charged like that," he snapped his fingers.
I waved it off. "Fuck him. I'm not worried about him. I'm stuck, Boog. I liked this woman," I confessed.
Boogie exhaled and sat down slowly. "Damn. For real?"
"Yeah, bruh." I nodded. "Something about her got me intrigued. And it's not just 'cause she fine. It's something underneath." I shrugged, head dropping down. "I ain't felt shit since Dri passed, and now the one time I do…"
"You meet a woman who sells pussy," Boogie filled in bluntly.
My head snapped up. "Don't say it like that."
"Shit it's the truth." Boogie shrugged. "But honestly, Rem…this is Vegas. Sin—fucking—City. All these women are selling it one way or the other. Now it may not be as straightforward as putting the money on the dresser. But gifts, trips, shopping—all that shit in the pursuit of a woman comes with a price tag attached. It just appears that lil' mama put anactualprice tag on her shit."
I leaned back in the chair, rubbing my beard slowly as his words settled. I shook my head. “It’s not like that."
He watched me carefully. “What do you mean?”
“She’s not… how you're thinking,” I said, trying to find the words. “At least not with me. She’s smart. Sweet. Fun. Carries herself differently. Soft. You talk to her and you wouldn't know that's what she does.”
Boogie snorted. “Yeah. I’m sure that’s part of the package, my boy.”
I shot him a look. “I’m serious.”
“I know you are,” he said, holding his hands up slightly. “That’s why I'm worried.” He leaned forward again, elbows on his desk. “So, what exactly are you trying to do here, Remy?”
I hesitated. “That’s the problem. I don’t know.Hence…why I'm here." I gestured to him. "I know you've dated women who are—”
"Loose?" Boogie cut me off, chuckling.
"No." I smirked, shaking my head. "Worldly.Let's say that."
"Yeah, aight. Aworldof dick," he muttered.
