Drive Me Crazy Read Online Free PDF Page B

her fingers lingered across my palm. I caught her fingers for a moment, then let her go.
    She took sugary steps away, blew me a kiss. “I’m already late for my date.”
    “I see.”
    Arizona headed toward a BMW. Silver. Convertible. New. She let the top down, then looked back at me and winked, did that in a way that sent me a message, told me she wasn’t bullshitting about the business. That chump change she had lost inside wouldn’t be missed.
    The streetlight turned red as soon as she pulled out of the lot. Arizona pointed something at the streetlight and—I don’t know if it was real or my Jack Daniel’s talking to me—the streetlight changed right back to green.
    She vanished into the night.
    I crawled into my car, shaken and stirred.

3
    Ten minutes later I was fighting traffic in the strip mall that held Magic Johnson’s Starbucks, Fatburger, and TGIF. It was late, everything had closed hours ago, but out of habit I rode the lot to see what kind of stragglers were still hanging out. Parking lot was empty.
    Arizona had me restless, my mind in a bear hug. Could’ve kissed her until sunrise.
    She’d driven away and left me aroused, my insides on fire. Erotic thoughts and a nonstop movie of us played in my head. Another tease. Look at me. Forty going after a twenty-something that looked like a brand-new dime. Had to get off Fantasy Island. I pulled over and whipped out my cellular. Women with complexions from cream to coal had come and gone and would be happy to come again. Thought about calling Panther, maybe swing by Strokers, donate a few bucks to her college fund. But that movie starring Arizona played in my head again.
    The alcohol in my blood told me to take my ass home and call it a night.
    My spot was down on La Cienega between Centinela and the 405, a beige stucco building sitting on the edges of Inglewood, Westchester, and Los Angeles, right in the middle of at least two miles of apartment buildings, none that could pass for the Taj Ma hal. California was twelve percent black; this had to be the epicenter of Los Angeles’s contribution to those demographics.
    I lucked up and found street parking within a quarter mile of my place, an apartment-dweller’s equivalent of winning the lottery. As soon as I got out of my car, that familiar red Hummer whipped up next to me. If I hadn’t been thinking about Arizona all the way home I would’ve looked in my rearview and saw that my boss’s wife was stalking me.
    Lisa let the passenger-side window down, sang out her sarcasm, “Playa, Playa, Playa.”
    The way she said that irked me like fingernails across a chalkboard.
    My heart sped up and I gritted my teeth, wondered how psycho she was going to get.
    “Somebody sad because his PYT didn’t come home with him? What, you didn’t offer her enough money? She looked young. You should’ve given her some Now & Laters.”
    I ignored her, strutted away, climbed the stairs and went straight to the bathroom so I could pay my water bill. Lisa was banging at my door before I was done handling my business.
    From my side of the door I said, “Go home to your husband, Lisa.”
    “We have a fifteen large situation that needs to be rectified one way or another.”
    I snapped out my aggravation. “Sue me.”
    Her tone matched mine. “I want my money.”
    “Or what? What are you gonna do?”
    “Or I tell Wolf about us.”
    I laughed, calling her bluff. Wolf had her locked in with an airtight prenuptial agreement, the kind that gave her nothing if the marriage ended. He’d learned a hard lesson from his first marriage. Man met broke woman. Treated her like a queen. Shit didn’t work out. Woman walked away with half of his shit, stereo included. Even a deaf woman would take the stereo just to piss a man off. Lisa was scorned when I met her. That was why it was so easy for us to fall into bed a few days after we met down on Crenshaw at Yum Yum doughnuts.
    Fast-forward three months. Three hot and steamy months.
    She