Love Trumps Game by D.Y. Phillips Page B

back.
    â€œYou know you still look good. Yo’ man wouldn’t let you get fat and you know it.”
    â€œWord. That fool keeps my gym membership paid up.”
    â€œAre you serious?” Neema laughed but knew she wasn’t lying. “Well, who is he? What’s his name?” With two kids and running product for Topps, Neema stayed pretty busy herself. The two friends rarely got together anymore, so Neema wasn’t quite sure who Kaykay was talking about. “Is he a true baller or what?”
    â€œLet’s just say he treats me good.”
    â€œWhatever. Anyway, if you ain’t doing nothin’, come make this run with me.”
    â€œYou mean, ride dirty for Topps?” Kaykay snorted with a mock frown. She took out her compact mirror to check herself. Pink-manicured nails primped at her expensive lace-front wig. “You know I can’t stand that nigga. No offense. I don’t want shit to do with his mess.”
    â€œYou wasn’t saying that when you was flying his shit up your nose.”
    â€œHumph. That’s different. And I ain’t trying to tell you how to handle yo’ business or nothing, but you need to cut that fool loose before you find yourself in a world of trouble. Take me, for example. I likes my freedom. Got me an old gangsta on the side. Keeps me happy. Hear what I’m saying?”
    â€œKay, I’m not asking you to suck his dick. Come ride with me. You can keep me company. Once I handle business, we can sprint over to that fancy eating place called Crustacean in B-Hills, have lunch, and a few apple martinis. My treat.”
    â€œGirl, you trying to tempt me, but no. Maybe next time.” Perplexed, Kaykay sniffed and looked around. “Dang. Them kids of yours are too quiet. They napping or what?”
    â€œThey not here.”
    Hell. That reminded her that she needed to call her mother to check on her kids. Neema dreaded the task like going to the dentist. After three days, her mother had to be pretty pissed off about the kids being dumped on her. She took up her cell phone from the table, flipped it open, and looked at it.
    â€œNah. Maybe later. I don’t feel like hearing Mama’s mouth right now. She a Christian and all, but my mama keeps it real. You piss her off, she libel to swear and curse and tell you how she really feel.”
    She tossed her phone back, went into her kitchen and returned with a can of cola and a box of baking soda. “Here you go.” She passed the soda to Kaykay. “I better wrap it up and get going then.” Opening the plastic bag containing the cocaine she was supposed to deliver, Neema replaced equal amounts of the white powder. “That should do it,” she said after using a scale to check the weight. “Perfect.”
    Kaykay eyed her suspiciously. “What the hell are you doing?”
    â€œCovering my ass. What else?” Neema zipped the plastic bag up, then carefully placed it in her oversized tote bag on the table. “You know that nigga Topps keep his shit down to the nit, and his clients all know it, too. I gets mine from the top, but I know to be careful.”
    Kaykay found her antics comical. “What, those niggas can’t tell the difference between pure blow and baking soda?”
    â€œGirl, please, sometimes I run outta baking soda and substitute with foot dust.”
    Kaykay cracked up laughing. “No you didn’t say foot dust.”
    â€œGirl, I’m for real. If you sand your feet and catch the dust, italmost looks like cocaine. Especially if you mix it with pure blow. You can’t tell the difference.”
    â€œThat’s some crazy shit. You one crazy and bold bitch.”
    â€œScrew them fools. They shouldn’t be dope fiends if they can’t take the risk.”
    The two laughed even harder. “Shit, my foot dust probably the best shit they asses ever flew up they nose.” All that laughing made her bladder