Page 78 of Solomon’s Temple

“I’ma see you later, a’ight?”

“Okay.”

“What time I say be home?”

She blushed and pecked his lips. “Niinnne,” she dragged.

“You know what it is. Don’t make me come back here.”

“Boy, I’ll be there. Kiss my babies for me. Make sure you wash your face and brush your teeth first, though.”

He chuckled. “Shut yo’ ass up. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Tell your workers to quit spying on us,” he said, tossing his head my way with a smirk.

Arie looked over at me.

My mouth fell open. “I-I wasn’t! I promise I wasn’t.”

He chuckled.

“Girl, get in here. Bye, Messiah.” She walked into her office, and I followed. “Close the door and have a seat.”

“Is it safe to sit down?” I jested.

“You ain’t in no position to joke with me right now, Temp.”

I did as I was told.

“Before you get in my ass about my absence, I have a good reason for it.”

“It better be good. My regulars have been requesting my headliner for over two weeks now. Then you don’t answer any of my calls or texts. I think that’s very rude of you. If it wasn't for your sister, I would have thought you were dead.”

“I know, and I apologize for that.”

“Sorry ain’t enough. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t fire your ass.”

“I mean, you can fire me, but I came here tonight to actually resign. I met someone⁠—”

“Not you quitting because of a nigga.”

“He’s not just some nigga⁠—”

“Let me guess. He’s some rich nigga who promised you a future outside of the club? To keep it a buck with you, no man ever takes strippers serious. Don’t lose yourself chasing illusions, Temp. You’re literally smarter than most of the dancers here. I’ve never seen you in the VIP rooms, and you never gave these niggas more than a dance.

“Hell, you got my damn brother-in-laws dropping bank on you, praying you’d go home with one or both of their ass.” She chuckled lightly. “I just don’t want to see you out here fucked up because some nigga lied to you.”

I frowned. I felt a way about her jumping to conclusions without hearing the full story. I knew I brought more money in her club than these other bitches, so I understood her disdain. It was a typical story of most of the women who danced and found a baller who took them out of the club, only for them to come back months later, broke and heartbroken.

That wasn’t my story, though.

Would never be my story.

Even if Solomon decided to leave me tomorrow, I still had money in my account and a car that was almost paid off. Not to mention my husband added me to his accounts with no prenup or promises to renege.

I’d never go out bad.