Thirsty Read Online Free PDF Page B

that.”
“Girl, you know I’ma put a bitch on,” I assured my ace. Just then, I spotted what I’d been looking for. “’Bout damn time,” I stated more so to myself than to Sapphire as I wiped my lips with a napkin and started the car.
Sapphire looked up from her meal and followed my gaze toward the vehicle that I was referring to.
“Who dat?” She squinted her eyes in an attempt to recognize the car.
I told her it was Monk as I was pulling away from the pay phone and back out into the street. I blinked my lights at the Mustang, and then I followed my brother to a nearby Amoco gas station. I pulled in and parked parallel beside Monk so that my window was right next to his. Both our windows descended at the same time. Immediately, my nostrils were attacked by the strong weed smell that was emanating from inside the Mustang.
“What up big sis?” my younger brother spoke. Due to his habitual weed and cigarette smoking his voice was kind of husky for his nineteen years of age. He was slouched down behind the wooden steering wheel with a black fitted cap pulled down past his eyebrows. His slanted eyes were barely visible.
“You got that?” I asked, not wanting to waste time with small talk.
“Do Fluffy got fleas?” He was being sarcastic, causing his two passengers to laugh. “Hell yeah we got that. You know not to question that. You know I’m ’bout my binness,” he stated arrogantly.
Then he reached down in his lap and handed me a wad of crumpled bills through the open window while the guy on his passenger’s side spoke to Sapphire.
“Wuzzup Phire? You act like you don’t know a nigga. You can’t speak?”
Sapphire craned her neck and looked around me to see who was speaking to her. When she recognized who it was she spoke back.
“Oh, hey, D.C., I didn’t know that was you over there.” She sat back and gave me a weird ass look.
I looked down at the crumpled bills in my hand and addressed my brother.
“Monk, y’all betta quit playin’ and break a bitch off. I know ya’ll got more than this.” I was holding up money. It looked like a few gees but I knew they had come up on ten times that amount.
“Girl, quit trippin’. You know a nigga got you.” Monk pointed at a plastic bag that was resting in D.C.’s lap. “As soon as we get rid of this shit right here, I’ma hit you off again.”
I leaned out the window to get a closer look at what was in the bag. What I saw made me smile. I settled back into my seat and opened my bag to stuff the loot inside. There was a dark-skinned boy in the back seat of the Mustang who I didn’t recognize. His thick wavy hair was cut short and neat, and his beady eyes were bloodshot red from the weed. He was watching me with lustful eyes, staring all in my grill and making a sistah kind of uneasy.
I looked at him, then back at my brother and asked, “Monk, why your friend keep starin’ at me like he knows me or something?”
D.C. passed Monk the L from which he took a toke, then exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. He turned his head, glancing at the dude in the back seat and then looked back at me with low eyelids. Without looking at the guy, Monk addressed him by name.
“Yo, Cross, why you sweatin’ my sister nigga?” He was just teasing but Cross couldn’t tell.
Caught off guard, Cross snapped out of his daze.
“I ain’t sweatin’ her.” He lied. “I’m just trippin’ on how much she look like that broad Russell Simmons used to fuck wit’.” His voice was raspy as he spoke. I wasn’t fazed by Cross’s comment because I was used to hearing it regularly.
Without responding to Cross’s remark, I asked Monk, “You gonna get at me tomorrow with the rest of that, right?”
I noticed how Monk kept glancing up at the rearview as if he was expecting someone.
“Ice,” Monk called me by the nickname he had given me when we were kids. Although it spelled the last three letters of my name, he said he called me that because I was so “cold hearted”! “Have a