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I smile. “Nice. I bet you clean up really well, too.”
He rubs his chin, grinning. “Yeah, no doubt. I can definitely do a lil sumthin-sumthin.”
“I bet you can. You’ll have to take pictures so I can see for myself.”
“No doubt. I got you. On some real shit, wish I woulda met you sooner. I woulda had you on my arm so you could see firsthand how I get down.”
I laugh. “And what makes you think I’d want to be on your arm?”
He grins. “Don’t front. I know you diggin’ me. And you’d be on my arm, ’cause that’s where I’d want you to be. That’s real talk, baby.”
“Yeah, okay. I’m sure that cockiness has gotten you real far.”
“Don’t confuse confidence with cockiness, baby. I get what I want.”
I eye him over the rim of my drink. “So, what kind of work do you do?”
He takes another sip of his drink. “Is that really important?”
I shrug; slowly shake my head. “No, actually it’s not. Forgive me for asking.” I mean, it’s not like you tryna marry the nigga.
“Nah, you good. I don’t usually like discussin’ what I do for a livin’. Some chicks be on some gold-diggin’ type shit, feel me?”
I nod. “I understand. Trust me. I’m far from a gold digger. If you haven’t noticed, I do very well for myself.”
He takes in the two-carat diamond studs in my earlobes, the tennis bracelet and diamond-encrusted Rolex on my wrist, the two-thousand-dollar handbag. “Yeah, I see how you grind. You’d have a cat goin’ broke real quick, tryna get at you. He’ll have’ta dig real deep in them pockets.”
“That’s so not true,” I say, feigning insult as I take a slow sip from my drink. “I make my own money and buy whatever I want. Trust me. I don’t need a man to buy me anything. And I’m definitely not a gold digger.”
“Nah, baby, I wasn’t callin’ you a gold digger. I’m sayin’ if I were your man, I’d want to buy you shit. You the type of woman I’d wanna spoil.”
I smile. “That’s so sweet of you.”
The rest of the night we eat our meal, laughing and talking and finishing up the bottle of sake. I glance down at my watch. It’s already nine-thirty. Desmond pays the check, then grabs my hand and leads the way out the restaurant. We walk around the casino for a while until he decides he wants to gamble. He wants to play The Amazing Race game, which is situated next to the Sex and The City slot machines. I’m impressed with the graphics. And see why every seat for the game is filled. He takes a seat at the last Amazing Race slot machine that’s next to the last Sex and the City machine. Surprisingly, the woman playing the machine decides to get up. I grab the seat, digging in my purse for my wallet.
“Yo, take this,” he says, pulling out a stack of bills and handing me two one-hundred-dollar bills. I tell him no, but he insists. I take the money, thanking him. He reaches over and kisses me on the lips. I’m shocked at his public display of affection, and even more shocked that I allow it. And like it.
“What was that for?”
“For good luck. And for bein’ so damn sexy.”
“How sweet,” I say, sliding the bills into the machine. There are four grids and I have no idea how to play the game so I read the printed instructions. Once I think I have the gist of it down, I decide to play all four grids. After about seven or eight tries, I win a few spins and about forty dollars; nothing to write home about. Thirty minutes later, I’m down to forty-two dollars. “I should cash this out before I lose it all.”
He laughs. “Play that shit, baby. It’s only money. You win some, you gonna lose some. We’re here to have fun.”
I shrug. “Say no more,” I tell him, accidentally hitting the MAXIMUM BET button. “Oh, shit. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Don’t sweat it, baby. Like I said, you lose some, you win some.”
Next thing I know, bells are going off. “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!” I scream, jumping up out of my seat. “I hit the jackpot!”
Persia
CHAPTER THIRTY
“Well, well, well,” I say as Paris sashays her way into our media room, wearing a wide I’m-happy-as-a-clam-rolled-in-shit smile on her face. “Look who’s finally decided to come home”—I glance down at my watch—“almost twenty-nine hours later. Mmmph, must’ve been some night.”
She flops down on the sofa next to me. “Girl, it was. I won almost fourteen hundred dollars playing a slot machine called Sex and the City.”
