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"Hood fame, everybody know my name when I come through but don't nobody scream it like you."
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Philippe Chow, New York May 6, 2019 9:06 p.m. Onika Tanya Maraj
"You smell nice. You look even better. Is this why you weren't answering my Facetime?" G says, eyes skimming and hands towing at the figure-hugging Wang dress I was clad in.
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I wordlessly shrug and grab a spare lemon slice, squeezing the nectarine into my glass of ice water. I damn near was salivating all over myself. Anytime I was even so much as in a two-foot radius of Ms. Knowles, the overbearing force and aura she casts swipes my body of all its functions. I never let her see me sweat though.
The woman couldn't be any further from bumptious, but even the minutest slip-up from me specifically,gasses her to no end.
All of these years and to her, seeing my love never faltered does wonders for her spirit—my sweet baby. It's as if she cannot believe I would feel the same way I did about her when we were only youngins running amuck in the South.
"Don't even start. I was on the road, you know how I am about being on the phone while driving. Plus, I sent a picture before I left. Wasn't enough to hold you over?" I tease, taking a sip from the cold beverage peering over at G to gauge her reaction.
Immediately, seating herself closer, she cranes her neck lower to speak into my ear.
Slithering her hand towards the curve of my hip with fingers splayed over my ass, she jerks me into her side in the sectional.
"You play dangerous games, Anya." She brings her other hand to grip the underside of my chin. I cannot believe that this lady is carrying on like this in Chows. In my peripheral, I spot Gelo—palms clasped over the other paired with a dangerous scowl. He pads over towards our table and resumes his previous stance.
