I frown. “Nah, nigga,” I state with much ’tude. “I’m from Brooklyn. I rest in Jersey. Don’t get it twisted.”

“Oh, my bad, beautiful. I stand corrected. And you feisty as hell. That shit’s a turn on, ma.”

“Oh, so that’s what I’m doin’?” I ask, starin’ in his eyes. “Turnin’ you on?”

“No doubt.” He stares at me for a quick minute, then switches up the convo, askin’ if I gotta man out here. He seems surprised when I tell him no. “Damn. And how long you been out here?”

“I’ve been back ’n forth for a minute. But I been playin’ it real heavy here for the last six months.”

“And no one’s tried to snatch you up?”

“A muhfucka can’t snatch what I’m not givin’ out,” I tell him, sippin’ my drink. “Besides, I ain’t lookin’. What about you?” He tells me he’s been on some solo shit for the last few months, but had been fuckin’ wit’ some chick that started wildin’ out. States she was a real ghetto-bird. So he dipped on ’er. “Any baby mommas?”

He frowns. “Hell, no. I ain’t ready for that. One day, though.” He pauses as his foot brushes up against mine. “Listen…so, what’s your deal, ma. You don’t have a man, and you’re not lookin’ for one. Is it because you don’t get down with ’em like that? You know you…you dig the ladies? Or you’ve been hurt real bad?”

I laugh. “Oh, trust. I’m all ’bout the dick, baby. And no, I ain’t been hurt. The fact is I was fuckin’ wit’ someone for hot minute, but things didn’t work out so that situation deaded.”

“Oh damn. Sorry to hear that. What happened?”

I sigh, placin’ my elbows up on the table, then claspin’ my hands together. “He got murdered.”

“Wow,” he says, shakin’ his head in disbelief. “That’s crazy. I’m sure that fucked you up.”

“You have no idea,” I tell ’im, slowly shakin’ my head while placin’ my hand up to my chest. I know. Theatrics; oh well. “It tore me up. But, life goes on.”