Even in those orange prison overalls he was so damn fine. I almost wanted to forgive him for Wendy’s little visit. But I couldn’t let him get away with that. I had made too many trips to see him and brought too many pairs of sneakers, not to mention the two and a half years of celibacy I was going through. He wasn’t gonna play me, especially not for that big-ass, weave-wearing bitch he had a baby with. Hell, no!

“Damn, baby, you think you could look any better? Every week you seem to get finer and finer. Mmm, mmm, mmm, come ’ere and give your man a kiss.” He smiled flirtatiously, and I almost melted at the sight of his gorgeous dimples.

He was doing it to me. He was making me blush even though I was mad at him. God, I hated the power he had over me. I was mad. He had done me wrong. Nonetheless, a smile was creeping over my face and I was about to give in as I felt his hands wrap around my waist.

“What the fuck was Wendy doing here?” I pushed him away as I regained my resolve. I could have plenty of attitude when I wanted, and I needed it then. I had to, because he was going to kiss me, and if he did it would have been all over “I asked you a question, Derrick! What the fuck was Wendy doing here?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise, then looked around to see who was watching.

“Sit down and I‘ll tell you,” he ordered me through gritted teeth. “What you tryin’a do, make me look like a punk?” He guided me into a chair.

“This had better be good, Derrick, or this is the last time I bring my black ass to visit you.” I sat down but wouldn’t let him touch me. My hands were trembling with anger.