Street Soldier 2 Read Online Free PDF Page B

aggressiveness.
    â€œDamn, ma. Take it easy. What’s the rush?” I asked.
    â€œNo rush,” she said. “I just like fucking you, that’s all.”
    With that, I kept my mouth shut, and let Francine do her thing. By the time we were done, which was about an hour later, the smell of sweaty sex filled my entire studio apartment and I had blown through three condoms. I’m not saying it wasn’t worth it, but as Francine lay sprawled out on my sofa sleeper, asleep, it was time for her to go. I wanted to go check on Nate at the liquor store and there was no way I was leaving anyone in my apartment without me being there. I shook her shoulder, causing her to roll over on her back and yawn.
    â€œWhat time is it?” she asked, stretching her arms.
    â€œAlmost seven in the P.M. I need to go check on the store, so I’ma need you to jet. We can hook up later, all right?”
    Francine tossed the covers aside and quickly got dressed. We both headed down the hardwood-covered hallway that led to an elevator. As soon as it opened, Jenay stepped off, smiling and speaking to both me and Francine. I spoke, but Francine didn’t.
    â€œBe good, Prince,” was all Jenay said and kept it moving. The upside to her was that she didn’t give a fuck about nothing. She minded her own business and was cordial to everyone in the building. Yeah, she knew what time it was with me and Francine, but she wasn’t the kind of woman to trip off no twenty-year-old and who I was fucking. I liked that shit about her, and her maturity played a big part in us having a connection that suited both of us. We only fucked when she wanted to, and that was more rare than one would think, only because Jenay was bisexual. She loved women more than she did men, but still required some dick from time to time. I was definitely down with that, and since she’d let me in on a few of her threesomes before, I wasn’t one to complain.
    I crossed over Union Boulevard, making my way to the other side of the street. Like clockwork, Nate was behind the counter waiting on several customers. The only time he took a break was for lunch. Either I would come to the store to relieve him, or he would close the store for an hour. His one-bedroom apartment was above the liquor store and that was to both of our benefits. I had someone I could depend on, and I paid him well for being just as committed to my business as I was.
    â€œSup,” he said, tossing his head back as I opened the door to go behind the counter with him. I slammed my hand against his, laughing at the way he was dressed. For him, wearing blue jean bibs, Stacy Adams, and a baseball cap was the style. He was too old school for me but I guessed at fifty-nine years old he felt his attire was appropriate.
    â€œYou know you be killin’ me,” I said, sitting on the stool behind him. Nate knew exactly what I was talking about, because I had shot him down several times about the clothes he wore.
    â€œWhat did I tell you,” he said. “You don’t know nothin’ about the way a for-real man is supposed to dress, and the only thing you got goin’ on is that diamond in your ear. You around here with those saggin’-ass clothes on, tryin’ to look hip, but lookin’ like a slouch. I ain’t never seen you in one thing I would have worn back in my day, and when I tell you this Negro right here had it goin’ on, I mean it.”
    I laughed as Nate got back to waiting on the customers. This time, a woman was short ninety-two cents for her items and he looked over at me. “She short. I normally don’t let nobody slide, but ...”
    â€œI don’t care if she’s short a penny. I need to get paid, man, and unless you want me to take it out of your salary, go ahead and make the call.”
    He looked at the woman who stood with an attitude. Nate was like me—he didn’t like women with attitude or those looking