“Mmmph,” I grunt, twistin’ my lips up. “Well, looks like she done brought it to you.”

“And you know they’ll probably be outside waitin’ with a crew. But it’s whatever. My man’s in ’em will be on alert in case shit pops off. I just feel bad that I got you all up in it.”

I shrug, shakin’ my head. “I’m not fazed. Like I said, they don’t want it wit’ a bitch like me.”

He pulls his phone out and texts someone, then sits the phone on the table. He leans in toward me, restin’ his forearms on the table. “Yo, so did you mean all that shit you was sayin’ to her?”

“All what shit?” I ask, playin’ stupid.

“You know. How you’re gonna take me home with you…and you know…”

“Fuck you?” I finish for him.

He nods, pickin’ up his phone when it buzzes, lettin’ him know he has a text. “Yeah, that.”

The waiter returns wit’ my dessert. I wait for him to bounce, then say, “Is that what you want?”

He grins. “Hell yeah. Who wouldn’t? You bad as hell, ma.” He texts back, then sits his phone back on the table.

I rest my arms up on the table. “You gotta lil’ dick?”

“Is eight-and-a-half little for you?” I peep the Shelly bitch slippin’ back into the restaurant. She walks toward the bathroom as if no one sees her slide through.

Oh, that crazy-ass ho done sealed her fate, I think, grinnin’. My pussy starts to moisten at the thought. She came at the wrong bitch, now I’ma bring it to ’er. “We goin’ to your place or mine?”

He smiles, lickin’ his lips. “Mine. I’m right over the bridge.”

“Have the waiter wrap this to go, then meet me outside by your whip. I need to use the bathroom real quick.” I grab my bag and strut off.

On my way to the bathroom I unzip my bag and drop my blade back in, pullin’ out another weapon of choice to do this bitch wit’—brass knuckles. I decide not to ice-pick ’er ass or slash ’er up; just break her damn face.