“Sounds like someone had a late night.”

I shake my head. “Not hardly,” I lie. “For some reason I couldn’t get to sleep last night. And when I finally did, it was time to get up again.”

She opens up her bag and starts digging inside. She pulls out a bottle. “Here, I have some NoDoz if you need them.”

I chuckle. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll be alright.”

“Okay,” she says. “Girl, I almost forgot. Did you hear about what happened to Cassandra?”

I make a face, confused. “Cassandra? Cassandra who?”

She sucks her teeth, sitting her coffee down on the counter. “You know Cassandra. Cassandra Simms.” I shake my head, still clueless. “Uh, hello…Big Booty.”

“Oh, why the hell didn’t you say that? I only know that ho by her street name.”

When Cassandra was in middle school, all the high school niggas started calling her Big Booty ’cause she had a tiny waist, peach-sized titties and this humongous, bubblicious ass that bounced and shook when she walked. Niggas would be sniffing behind her, drooling and whatnot, all mesmerized by the size of her ass. And she’d have them eating out of the palm of her hand—and crack of her ass—for a ride in it. And not a damn thing’s changed. Her body is still tight, and that ass of hers is still bouncing and shaking niggas out of their minds. The only thing is the bitch is mildly retarded. Well, I don’t know that for a fact, if she is or not. But she definitely seems a bit special. I do know, growing up, she spent a lot more time on her back and in the back seats of cars than she did in those remedial classrooms she was supposed to be in. And now all she has to show for her big, juicy ass is nine brats, six baby-daddies, an EBT card, and Section 8 housing. Oh, but she keeps her and her kids laced in all the fly shit, keeps her hair and nails done like clockwork, and is driving a new GTS Cadillac SUV. But has no savings. What a trifling mess!