Page 27 of The Mob: Shio Cuppacio

“You can smoke. Had I had my bundles in? Hell no.” She tossed her hair back over her other shoulder.

Baguette smoked with my sister no matter what type of hair she had, but then again, Tuscany changed her styles like I did socks, so she probably didn’t care if her bundles held a hint of smoke.

Licking the blunt to seal it, I nodded. “I gotcha.”

“Ohhh! I love this song!”

I’d forgotten all about the radio playing since I’d removed my phone from Bluetooth. I had the car programmed to ATL’s hip-hop station, but I assumed it station was a pop station out here, based on the song playing.

“Like you, like you, I find it hard to find someone like youuuu!”

Using the lighter, I ran it down the length of the blunt. “Yeah, stick to food reviews, my baby.”

Glow’s mouth dropped open, and she reached over and shoved my shoulder.

I nearly burned my damn thumb from trying to dodge her little pretty ass. “Watch out!” I smiled at her playfulness.

“Shut up. It’s because I had those Lemon Drops. I donotdrink. I wouldn’t dare sing in front of a boy. Hopefully, I don’t remember this tomorrow, or I’m going to be too embarrassed.” She shook her head, but the grin on her face told me that she wasn’t regretting those cracked-ass vocal chords.

“You had three sips and four bites of food. Yo’ ass not drunk, and I bet you hungry as shit.”

Snapping her fingers and bobbing her head, she ignored my statement. “Doja Cat be talking that talk.”

“That’s who that is?”

I wasn’t into pop, but I could have sworn the girl she mentioned was a rapper. On this track, she was rapping and singing, and the shit sounded fire.

“Yeap. My girl. I gotta go see her in concert,” she said more to herself than me.

Letting the Kush suffocate my lungs, I thought back to what she'd said before I commented on her flat-ass singing. “So that’s what you on?” My voice rose an octave.

“Hmm?” She was still snapping her fingers, gold bangles just clanking and shit.

Exhaling the smoke at the same time, I replied, “Not remembering our date tonight. Is that what type of shit you on?”

She stopped snapping her fingers and grinned. Just as quickly as it appeared on her face, it vanished. The lake in front of us looked like specks of glitter were scattered across it, with the moon above. In this setting, she looked more desirable than she had back at the restaurant. It could have been the weed or the yak, but Glow was too fucking fine.

“I’m going to remember the date, Tunan. It’s what I doafterthe date that I don’t want to remember,” she replied bashfully.

Taking a pull from the weed again, I drew so damn hard that it felt like my chest was about to cave in. I hadn’t fucked anyone in a year and had no plans to do so either. That’s why the mob wife shit was throwing the fuck out of me. I’d been beating my dick in the shower like I did for the last twelve months in prison, but with this soft-ass woman next to me, all of my sworn-off-women talk blew into the dust.

“Is dat rite?”

I wouldn’t initiate shit. I had no plans on fucking, but who the fuck was I to deny a pretty girl a nut? If Glow was big and bad, she’d come over here and take what the fuck she wanted. But if she wanted to stay in the playground, that was cool too. I’d finish my blunt, watch her croak to a few more of these bubble gum-ass songs, and then take her home.

“I’m your first date out. So that means you haven’t had… sex.”

Blowing smoke away from her face, another song came on, and I actually recognized this one. I fucked with The Neighborhood—"Sweater Weather” was every hood person’s song.

“Are you askin’ me or tellin’ me?” I raised one eyebrow.

Gnawing on her bottom lip, she shrugged. “Asking.”

“You know a nigga don’t have to spend two bands at a steakhouse in order to get some pussy, right?” I chuckled at her rationale.

She shrugged again, comfortably bundled in the passenger seat.

Her thinking I had to wine and dine for pussy was cute. If I wanted some pussy, all I had to do was walk outside. I could have done that shit in the green Georgia corrections jumpsuit with the stench of the jail on my nuts, and pretty women would still flock to ride my dick. I’d fucked women for nothing. Just breathing has gotten me pussy. Still, I answered her truthfully.