Chapter 8
JASMINE MILLER
“I’m really glad you texted me,” Amir said as we walked to his car.
“Me too. Dinner was really good,” I smiled at him.
Amir was a dude I’d met on a dating app before I moved to Atlanta, and he was quickly becoming a favorite.
Tall, brown-skinned, clean-cut, with shoulder-length locs.
He was smaller than what I usually liked, but claimed he did CrossFit—so I figured there was some hidden strength under there somewhere.
He wasn’t flashy and I liked that. Tonight, he had on khaki shorts and a navy blue polo—very laid-back and neat. It suited him. I think he was some kind of software engineer… or maybe he worked for the CDC. Either way, he had a little bit of money and liked taking me out.
He had been on his best behavior all night, and I was pretty sure I was gonna invite him up for a nightcap when he dropped me off.
Amir drove for a few minutes before he pulled into a strip mall parking lot.
“What are we doing out here?” I asked, looking around, confused. The lot was packed, which wasn’t unusual. I quickly learned that in Atlanta, even a Juicy Crab could turn into a club.
He laughed. “I know this looks sketchy, but there’s a lounge here.”
I bunched up my face. “Amir, just so you know, my homegirl has my location—and I got a switchblade that I know how to use. No funny shit.”
“Damn, that’s violent,” he said, trying to laugh it off, but he looked a little nervous.
We crossed the lot and entered a dimly lit lounge with a DJ tucked in the corner. A few tables and booths were filled with folks drinking and puffing on hookah.
“Is this… a hookah lounge?” I hissed as we found an empty booth.
“Yeah,” he grinned. “This is my cousin Honcho’s spot. It’s a cool lil’ joint to vibe and chill.”
Honcho. That name sounded familiar. Monica used to mess with him and had been begging me to come here for months.
“Oh.” My shoulders slumped. I knew he saw the disappointment on my face.
“Oh?” he echoed, picking up my mood shift. “You don’t like hookah?”
“No, I don’t. And you would’ve known that had you asked me,” I rolled my eyes and grabbed the drink menu. “Let me guess—you got a hookah at your place too?”
He looked away, embarrassed. And he should’ve been. The nerve of him thinking I was the type to be impressed by mango shisha and a grass wall.
“My bad, Jas. It won’t happen again,” he said, resting a hand on my thigh.
“It’s fine,” I replied as I moved his hand. “Enjoy your lil hookah. I’m gonna drink on your dime.”
After a few espresso martinis, I was feeling a little less annoyed. Amir wasn’t a terrible conversationalist, but this spot still wasn’t my scene. I pulled out my phone to text Monica, hoping she could come save me.
Girl, Amir got me at Honcho’s hookah spot. You wanna come through?
Monica: Oh, now you’re at a hookah lounge?
Not by choice. I didn’t know he was bringing me here. Come spend his money with me.
Monica: Sorry, boo. No can do. Jelani’s coming over tonight
Ew, Cash’s brother? Y’all been talking?
Monica: Uh, yeah. That nigga is fine and paid. I’m tryna have some fun with him. I’m telling you, you should talk to Cash. Y’all looked real cute together.
Hell no. You forgot I got in a fight that night? I’m good off him.
I sighed and slid my phone back into my purse.
“I’m gonna run to the restroom, then we can head out,” Amir said, kissing me on the cheek. I forced a weak smile and nodded. As soon as he was out of sight, I let out a deep breath. That nightcap was off the table, and I was debating on blocking him after he dropped me off.
I threw back the last of my martini as the doorbell over the entrance chimed. I looked up and nearly choked on my drink when I saw Cash stroll in, that cocky-ass smile spreading across his face the moment our eyes met.
“What did I do in a past life to deserve this?” I muttered under my breath as he walked over.
“Sup, sweetheart?” he said, sliding next to me.
I groaned, trying to shift away from him. “Are you stalking me?”
I hated the way he looked sexy without even trying. He had on camo cargo shorts, a white Rhude Wear tee, fresh retro Jordans, and a big-face Rolex—the complete opposite of Amir.
“You not happy to see me?” he asked, draping an arm over my shoulder and pulling me in close.
“Um, Jasmine?”
Amir was standing at the edge of the table. His face twisted in confusion as his eyes bounced between me and Cash.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. This was beyond messy.
“Amir, we can go. He’s nobody,” I said quickly, trying to stand.
But Cash’s hand clamped down on my thigh possessively.
Goosebumps prickled across my skin as I sank back into the booth, folding my arms over my chest.
“We just talking, baby,” Cash said smoothly, his drawl thick and syrupy.
I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling heat spread between my legs. Why the hell did he have to sound like that?
Amir’s eyes dropped to Cash’s hand still gripping my leg. The confusion on his face flipped to irritation, real fast.
“Jasmine, you got me taking your ass out when you got a whole nigga already?” he gritted.
I peeled Cash’s off, shaking my head. “He’s not my man.”
“All you bitches are the same,” Amir laughed bitterly to himself.
“Excuse me?” I barked, jumping to my feet. “First of all, I told you I was dating other people. And this nigga?”—I pointed a finger at Cash—“He’s not even one of them!”
“I’m supposed to believe that?” Amir scoffed. “Man, you was just using me for a free meal.”
“A free—”
THUD.
My stomach dropped, hearing something heavy hit the table.
Here we fucking go.
Cash rested his hand on his gun.
“Choose your next words carefully, my nigga,” he said, eyes locked on Amir like he was just waiting for an excuse to shoot him.
“What is your problem?” I hissed, sinking back down beside him. I looked around. A few people were now blatantly watching us. I tried pushing his hand onto his lap, but he had a death grip on that thing.
He didn’t even flinch. His gaze stayed on Amir, who suddenly didn’t seem so tough. That big dog act disappeared the moment he saw what Cash was holding.
“Man, fuck this,” Amir spat, puffing up his chest, trying to sound hard. “Your pussy ain’t worth all this shit.”
Cash was out of the booth, moving faster than I could process.
CRACK.
The sound of metal meeting flesh made me gasp as he pistol-whipped Amir across the face.
Amir hit the floor, howling as he clutched his forehead, blood gushing from the wound.
“Bron, get this bitch ass nigga out my face before I really fuck him up,” Cash called out.
The bouncer, Bron, was on it. He scooped Amir off the floor and dragged him to the door. Amir didn’t even try to fight back—just held his face and let himself get tossed out like garbage.
Cash rolled his shoulders, sitting down like he hadn’t just pistol-whipped a man in public.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I snapped, still trying to catch my breath. “What if he presses charges?”
Cash let out a deep-bellied laugh, showing off his perfect smile.
“That nigga not stupid enough to press charges,” he said, putting his gun back into the waistband of his pants. “He think just ‘cause his people own this spot that he got pull, but I own the building. So, it’s whatever.”
“Uh huh.” I grabbed my phone, already pulling up the Uber app.
“Who you calling?” he asked, leaning over to peek at my screen.
“Damn, nigga, you not my daddy!” I fussed, elbowing him.
“But I could be,” he whispered in my ear, kissing my neck.
My mouth fell open—the audacity.
He snatched the phone from my hand and stood, striding toward the exit.
“Hey!” I yelled as I grabbed my purse and chased after him.
He was leaning against a blacked-out Range Rover, smirking and holding my phone hostage between his fingers.
“What’d you do?” I demanded, snatching it back.
It immediately lit up, and Big Daddy Cash flashed across the screen.
I gave him the nastiest look I could muster. “I’m gonna block you.”
“Go ‘head,” he said, completely unfazed, nodding toward the open passenger door. “Get in the car, sweetheart.”
“No.” I planted my hands on my hips. “You can’t just show up—”
“Jasmine.” His voice dropped low, and he stepped into my space. “Get in the car before I pick your thick ass up and put you in.”
“I don’t need you to take me anywhere.” I held my chin up. “For all you know, I got another date lined up for tonight.”
“Oh yeah?” he laughed dryly. “Are your other dudes corny like that nigga Amir? ‘Cause I’ll follow you to the next spot and press you there too. And I wish they’d try to stop me.”
My heart thudded so hard I could feel it in my ears. He was doing too much, and it had no business turning me on the way it did.
I blew out a frustrated breath, bumping his shoulder as I climbed into the truck and slammed the door.
“I know you in your feelings, but don’t be slamming my shit like that,” he said, starting the engine.
I cut my eyes at him but kept quiet. I was already embarrassed and irritated on multiple levels.
“So, you not gonna tell me where you live so I can drop you off?”
“I’m surprised you don’t already know,” I said. “Since you clearly stalked me here.”
He didn’t say anything, turning up the music as he pulled out of the lot.
I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing. My heart was still racing from what happened in the lounge. I wasn’t sure it was from seeing Amir getting his face smashed or from how Cash had managed to hijack another evening from me.
“How’d you know where I was?” I finally asked, breaking the silence.
He shrugged, keeping his eyes fixed on the road as he turned on 85.
“Fucking Monica,” I muttered. She was with Jelani—it made sense. I was gonna curse her ass out next time I saw her.
“So, you make it a habit of dealing with corny-ass niggas?” he asked as if we were casually catching up.
“Why do you care about who I’m dealing with?” I shot back. “And Amir was nice.”
“Nice?” he scoffed. “Baby, that dweeb was dressed like he was headed to the golf course and took you to a hookah lounge. Be serious.”
That pulled a reluctant laugh out of me. “I told him that too,” I admitted. “He just… assumed. But I had a few drinks and made the most of it.”
He shook his head. “Nah. You too fine to be ‘making the best of it.’”
“Thanks,” I said softly.
He glanced over, tongue sliding across his bottom lip as his eyes dropped to my thighs. I squeezed them together and turned back to the window.
We fell quiet again, and every now and then I could feel him watching me. And truthfully, I couldn’t stop myself from looking at him either.
It was something about the way Cash carried himself—like he was God’s gift—that pissed me off and turned me on at the same time.
When we finally pulled up to my building, I looked over at him and narrowed my eyes. “So you really did know where I lived.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Let me walk you to the door.”
I should’ve told his ass no and shut this whole thing down. But I didn’t. I opened the door, stepped out, and felt him close behind me. I made sure to switch my hips a little harder, knowing he was watching my every move.
I fumbled with my keys at the door—my hands shaking partly from the nerves and the heat of his stare.
“I want to take you out on a date,” he said, tilting my chin up so I had to look at him.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Cash.” My voice came out quieter than I wanted.
He pulled me in, and my body melted against his like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Yeah, aight,” he murmured, dipping his head to nuzzle the side of my neck.
His hand slid down my back, caressing the bare skin.
I let out a soft moan when he pressed into me, the thick bulge in his shorts brushing up against my thigh.
I clutched the hem of his shirt to steady myself, feeling my knees threatening to buckle.
“Why you fighting me, Jas?” he whispered. I felt my panties dampen as his lips traced the shell of my ear.
I didn’t have a good answer. At this point, I was ready to let him fuck me on the hood of his car.
But he stepped back before I could say anything, leaving me panting and flushed.
“I’ma holla at you,” he said, flashing that same grin and turning back to the street like he hadn’t just gotten me all worked up.
“I hate you!” I yelled after him, voice shaky.
He didn’t look back—just threw up the deuces, got in his truck, and drove off.
Dickhead.