you.”
“Whatever.”
“So what the hell is your real name?”
“It’s Passion.”
“Quit playin’ wit’ me, you know damn well your mom didn’t name you Passion. Passion removed her wallet then presented her driver license: It read Passion Morgan.
“Damn! Yo’ mother set you up to shake yo’ ass at the strip clubs.”
“Well I wouldn’t call it a setup,” she giggled, “but when I had to drop out of Georgia State, I needed to make money some kind of way.”
“I ain’t mad at you. We all gotta eat.”
“And what is it that you do, D? And what the hell does the D stand for?”
“DeMarcus,” he lied.
“Why are you lying?”
“I’m not lying.”
“Let me see your license.”
“Okay I’m lying.”
“Why you lying?“
“My name is Deion.”
“Why did you lie in the first place?”
“Well, it’s because I don’t know you yet. That’s all.”
“Well you know my name. You’re too good to give a stripper your name I guess.”
“No.”
“So what is it that you do, Deion?”
“I manage a couple of rappers and I have my own label.”
“You and every other hustler in Atlanta.”
“I don’t hustle.”
“Hustle is not a bad word and it doesn’t have to be an illegal hustle. That’s where people get it wrong.”
“That’s true.” He flagged the waitress and ordered another bowl of the She-crab soup. “So when are you going to be my girlfriend?” Deion asked, after his soup came.
“How is that gonna benefit me?”
“So you have to be benefiting in order to be my girlfriend?” Deion questioned.
“Well, a girl needs help every now and then. I have a son to support. I told you that.”
“I understand that.”
“So what we gonna do about this?”
“Basically you looking for an arrangement?”
“I wouldn’t call it that, but I’m just saying, how is this gonna benefit me personally?”
“Come to New York with me next weekend,” Deion said, dropping his spoon on the table.
“Invite me.” She took a swig of her water.
He stared at her face and realized her eyes were the color of emeralds. Why didn’t he notice that before? Maybe they were contacts, he thought. “I’m inviting you now,” he said, getting his thoughts back on topic. Before he could get her response his cellphone rang so he excused himself and stepped outside the cafe before answering.
“Hey motherfucker! That money you gave me was counterfeit.”
“Who is this?”
“Paris.”
“Who the fuck is Paris?”
“Nigga, you wanna play dumb now! You know damn well who I am!”
“From Onyx?”
“Damn straight from Onyx, nigga. You gave me counterfeit money.”
“Why don’t you quit lying,” he stated, wanting to get her the fuck off his phone.
“I ain’t gotta lie about a crummy-ass two thousand dollars.”
“Bitch, don’t call my phone no more. He hung up and stepped back inside the café. He flagged down the waitress, paid her, then grabbed Passion and left the restaurant.
“I enjoyed myself,” Passion said when they got outside.
“Then I know you’ll have a good time if you come to New York with me,” Deion said, giving her a hug.
“Maybe, but what about my bag?”
“We’ll get you one in New York.”
“I’m going to hold you to it.”
“You good.” He handed her five hundred dollars. “This is for your son,” he said.
“You’re making a believer out of me.” Passion folded the money and smiled.
“Keep fuckin’ wit’ me and won’t nobody be able to shake yo’ faith. You’ll believe in me so much that whatever I say will go.”
“I think you a little too confident in yourself but you funny as fuck!”
“And sexy as fuck. Why don’t you admit it?”
“Maybe just a little bit,” Passion winked, and walked off.
Chapter 10
Switch Up
There was a gray Maserati parked in the driveway of a luxurious home in Gwinnett County. Danny Sullivan had asked Alex to meet him there at 4:45 p.m., but he got there five minutes early. Alex
“Whatever.”
“So what the hell is your real name?”
“It’s Passion.”
“Quit playin’ wit’ me, you know damn well your mom didn’t name you Passion. Passion removed her wallet then presented her driver license: It read Passion Morgan.
“Damn! Yo’ mother set you up to shake yo’ ass at the strip clubs.”
“Well I wouldn’t call it a setup,” she giggled, “but when I had to drop out of Georgia State, I needed to make money some kind of way.”
“I ain’t mad at you. We all gotta eat.”
“And what is it that you do, D? And what the hell does the D stand for?”
“DeMarcus,” he lied.
“Why are you lying?”
“I’m not lying.”
“Let me see your license.”
“Okay I’m lying.”
“Why you lying?“
“My name is Deion.”
“Why did you lie in the first place?”
“Well, it’s because I don’t know you yet. That’s all.”
“Well you know my name. You’re too good to give a stripper your name I guess.”
“No.”
“So what is it that you do, Deion?”
“I manage a couple of rappers and I have my own label.”
“You and every other hustler in Atlanta.”
“I don’t hustle.”
“Hustle is not a bad word and it doesn’t have to be an illegal hustle. That’s where people get it wrong.”
“That’s true.” He flagged the waitress and ordered another bowl of the She-crab soup. “So when are you going to be my girlfriend?” Deion asked, after his soup came.
“How is that gonna benefit me?”
“So you have to be benefiting in order to be my girlfriend?” Deion questioned.
“Well, a girl needs help every now and then. I have a son to support. I told you that.”
“I understand that.”
“So what we gonna do about this?”
“Basically you looking for an arrangement?”
“I wouldn’t call it that, but I’m just saying, how is this gonna benefit me personally?”
“Come to New York with me next weekend,” Deion said, dropping his spoon on the table.
“Invite me.” She took a swig of her water.
He stared at her face and realized her eyes were the color of emeralds. Why didn’t he notice that before? Maybe they were contacts, he thought. “I’m inviting you now,” he said, getting his thoughts back on topic. Before he could get her response his cellphone rang so he excused himself and stepped outside the cafe before answering.
“Hey motherfucker! That money you gave me was counterfeit.”
“Who is this?”
“Paris.”
“Who the fuck is Paris?”
“Nigga, you wanna play dumb now! You know damn well who I am!”
“From Onyx?”
“Damn straight from Onyx, nigga. You gave me counterfeit money.”
“Why don’t you quit lying,” he stated, wanting to get her the fuck off his phone.
“I ain’t gotta lie about a crummy-ass two thousand dollars.”
“Bitch, don’t call my phone no more. He hung up and stepped back inside the café. He flagged down the waitress, paid her, then grabbed Passion and left the restaurant.
“I enjoyed myself,” Passion said when they got outside.
“Then I know you’ll have a good time if you come to New York with me,” Deion said, giving her a hug.
“Maybe, but what about my bag?”
“We’ll get you one in New York.”
“I’m going to hold you to it.”
“You good.” He handed her five hundred dollars. “This is for your son,” he said.
“You’re making a believer out of me.” Passion folded the money and smiled.
“Keep fuckin’ wit’ me and won’t nobody be able to shake yo’ faith. You’ll believe in me so much that whatever I say will go.”
“I think you a little too confident in yourself but you funny as fuck!”
“And sexy as fuck. Why don’t you admit it?”
“Maybe just a little bit,” Passion winked, and walked off.
Chapter 10
Switch Up
There was a gray Maserati parked in the driveway of a luxurious home in Gwinnett County. Danny Sullivan had asked Alex to meet him there at 4:45 p.m., but he got there five minutes early. Alex
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