Street Soldier 2 Read Online Free PDF Page A

fun lugging all those groceries back from Aldi.”
    â€œI already apologized for that. Had some business to tend to. You should have reminded me.”
    â€œBusiness like what? Screwing Jenay’s old ass? I saw her creeping out of your apartment, but you know I’m not gon’ trip, right?”
    â€œI should plead the fifth, only because you don’t want me to comment about nobody creepin’ in and out of your apartment, do you?”
    Francine smiled, knowing that she kept niggas running in and out of her apartment. She had a high sex drive and was the first to admit it. Her being with other men in no way bothered me, and if anything, what we had was all about getting sexual pleasure. She could suck the skin off my dick, and as good as her head job was, she was free to do it any time.
    â€œNo, don’t comment,” she said, laughing. “I catch your drift, but you still played me though.”
    â€œNot intentionally.”
    â€œMaybe not, but I was still left ...”
    Francine continued to talk, but I didn’t pay her much attention because from the doorway I could see Miss Poetry getting out of her Ford Focus. I figured she was back to cause trouble. She headed my way, but I turned my head in another direction.
    â€œI know you see me, boy ,” she said. “Why you turn your head?”
    I pulled my cell phone from my pocket, pretending as if I would use it to call the police. Surely, though, this chick I could handle. “What do you want? Why you keep buggin’ me, ma?” I asked.
    â€œWhat I want, you can’t give me. That would be a decent man, who stands up and protects a woman when need be.”
    â€œProtect women? Maybe. Hoodrats? No. Sorry, and if it applies, don’t be mad at me.”
    Francine had stepped outside of the bathroom to see who I was talking to. She glanced at Poetry, who seemed angry, but still looked sexy as hell. Poetry put her hand on her hip while staring at Francine.
    â€œCan I help you with something?” Poetry asked.
    â€œNope,” Francine said, handing the mop over to me. “I’m going back to my apartment. Have fun and see you later.” She wiggled her fingers at me, waving good-bye, but cut her eyes at Poetry.
    For the hell of it, I playfully smacked Francine on her meaty ass, causing all of it to jiggle. She couldn’t help but blush. “Prince, you need to quit, boy . Bye.”
    I winked and let out a sigh as my attention turned back to Miss Attitude who kept running her mouth. “I assume you were referring to the woman from earlier as a hoodrat, so I’ma let what you said slide,” she said. “The real reason why I came back was to show you what your money paid for and to thank you for being so kind.”
    She held out her hands, just so I could see her perfectly polished nails. Then she had the nerve to look down and wiggle her toes that were visible by the thong sandals she wore. The polish was a lime green with designs on it.
    â€œNow, that’s some ugly shit,” I said, walking away from her and into my office.
    â€œUgly,” she shouted, following me. “How can you say my nails look ugly? You probably don’t know nothing about polish anyway so forget you.”
    â€œI know enough to say that shit on your fingers and toes look awful. I thought you were ghetto before, but now I’m much more convinced.”
    She couldn’t wait to start rolling her neck, even though I was just playing with her. “Ghetto? You think I’m ghetto? Negro, please. You’re the one ghetto, and look at how you dressed. Jeans all sagging. Shirt too damn big. Name all jacked up, and who in the hell go around answering to Prince? The only Prince I know is from the 1970s or 80s. He sang ‘Purple Rain,’ and unlike him, you do not have it like that to be calling yourself no Prince.”
    â€œOh, I got it like that, bet. A Prince I am, and Prince I will