“Thanks. You what's up. Where're we going?”
Pharaoh roared the Charger's engine and spread his soft lips into a sneaky smile, revealing a platinum and rose-gold grill.
“Er'where Shawty. Ya know? If you still rollin'.” He threw the gearshift in drive, released the brake, and accelerated until their heads indented the headrests like they were on a roller coaster.
Santana powered down her window, letting the warm Atlanta air flow in and the blaring music out. She bopped her head, reached over, and ran her palm over his arm, loving the way his skin felt on hers. It was intoxicating knowing how powerful her man was.
There's nothing he can't do.
T.I. was rapping in the background. Paper-bag brown, fresh low cut with natural waves, he had just the slightest under bite that made his chin jut forward, causing him to look hard all the time. She took her hand, rubbed it over the hair he was growing on his chin.
“What up? You don't like that, shawty?” He looked over, flashed a slight crooked-tooth smile that revealed his platinum lower teeth, then stopped the car at the red traffic light.
She blushed. “You know I do.” She reached in the back, retrieved the bag with his fresh kicks in it, then handed it to him.
He accepted the bag, then looked in it. He opened it and pulled out the Nike box first. A smile surfaced, followed by a low laugh. He nodded. “That's why I'm wit you, shawty. You a good girl and you know what it is. That's why I got a surprise for you too. Stick wit ya man, baby, and we going everywhere. Straight to the top, shawty.”