Street Fame by K. Elliott Page B

rings of smoke at Twin’s face. “Hey, I need a loan.”
Twin dug into his wallet and handed him a one-hundred-dollar bill.
He snatched the money. “Don’t fuckin play with me. This ain’t no real money.”
“I don’t have no money, man. Didn’t I tell you times was hard?”
“I know times is hard, muthafucka. Why do you think I’m out here fuckin with your punk ass in the first place?”
“Here is twenty dollars more,” Twin said.
J-Black knocked the wallet out of his hand. “I need two thousand dollars, nigga.”
“I ain’t got that kind of money,” Twin said.
“I guess your life ain’t worth two thousand dollars, huh?”
“You wouldn’t kill me; man, I’m your friend.”
“I ain’t got no friends.”
“I got a thousand.”
“That will do.”
“I have to go home to get it.”
“Let’s go,” J-Black said.
Twin thought long. He didn’t particularly want J-Black to find out where he lived. “J, I can’t take you to my house. My girl be tripping, man.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“I can take you back to your car, if you want me to.”
“Yeah. Take me back to my car. I want you to drive my car to your house; that way, I will know you’re coming back. Understand me?”
Twin hesitated before speaking. “I guess so.”
When they returned to Taco Bell, Twin jumped in J-Black’s Impala.
*****
    Twenty-five minutes later, Twin returned and met with J-Black, who was waiting in the car, smoking another Newport.
Twin handed him the money.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate this.”
“No problem, J.”
“Keep in touch. Make sure you let me know when old Tommy gets his hands on something again.” He hopped out of the car and walked by the Impala.
“J, you’re forgetting your keys.”
“Nigga, those ain’t my keys. I took the car from a coward-ass muthafucka in North Charlotte.”

Chapter 12
    M
ark and Jennifer were lying on a bed in the Westin Hotel. He had made love to her twice already.
She lay in his arms, enjoying his company. “So how do you feel?”
He avoided her eyes and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know how I feel. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”
“Never had sex with a stripper, huh?”
“No.”
“A white woman?”
“No. Never had sex with my informant, either.”
“So this was a groundbreaking experience for you, huh, Pratt?”
“I wouldn’t exactly put it like that.”
“So, are you worried?”
“About what?”
She smiled. “That this will get out.”
“No, I’m not worried about anything,” he lied. He was concerned with what would happen if the agency found out that he crossed the line, and he thought about what his dad would say. This was not the type of woman he could bring home to Mama.
“So, did you enjoy it?” She rubbed his chest.
“I’m having a good time with you, Jennifer,” he said.
“Good. I enjoyed it, Pratt. For a guy who’s a square, you’re a good lover.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, but I knew it. You’re a Scorpio.”
“So what about Twin?”
“What about him?”
“Do you feel bad that you just had sex behind his back?”
She sat up on the edge of the bed. “Twin is fucking at least three different women other than me.”
“What? That is dangerous.”
“That’s the life … the drug life. It comes with the territory of being a drug dealer’s girl.”
“So why would you stay with him? Why would you stay with someone who cheats on you and obviously don’t love you?”
Jennifer got out of bed and slipped on her jeans. Then she turned and faced Mark. “Like I told you before, Pratt, I have no choice. He is the only man that loves me—the only man that understands me.”
“Twin is making money; he’s making serious money, and he still lets you shake your ass in the club for me. I don’t call that love.”
Jennifer made eye contact with Mark, and then her eyes got misty.
Mark didn’t like to see women cry. It did something to him to watch a woman cry. He sprang from the bed, walked over to Jennifer, and put his