Page 31 of When a Soul Cries

“I meant the baby.”

That stopped her.

Her expression softened as she looked through the window.

“She’s sick. I’m trying to get her to the doctor.”

There it was.

The reason for the rushing. The constant checking of the time. Probably some of the attitude too, although I had a feeling the rest of that shit was just her.

I nodded toward the car. “Hope she feel better.”

For the first time, her eyes lost some of their edge.

“Thank you.”

The pump clicked, and she moved immediately, replacing the nozzle and closing her gas tank. She was halfway to the driver’s door when I realized she was really about to leave without giving me shit.

“Hold up.”

She turned, exhaling. “What?”

“What’s your name?”

“Why?”

“So if I see you again, I know what to call you besides mean ass.”

Her lips twitched.

Barely.

But I caught it.

“You ain’t seeing me again.”

“You don't know that.”

“I know I’m trying to get my baby to the doctor and you holding me up.”

I lifted both hands. “Aight, damn. Go.”

She opened her door.

I grinned. “Still ain’t tell me your name.”

She paused and looked at me like she was deciding whether giving me that much information would make me even more annoying.

“Zari.”

I repeated it quietly. “Zari.”

“Don’t wear it out.”

“You don't want mine?”

“Nope.”