Chapter Five
Love rode shotgun on his golf cart, while Councilman James Joyner drove over the lush greens of The Sprin gFerry Golf Course.
"Councilman, I'm throwing a lot of money at this campaign for one thing, results. I know the game, and I know you know how to play it, bottom line. I got two mentoring programs, and I want some of that federal grant money to go to them.
Period," Love emphasized smoothly, because it was never necessary for him to raise his voice. The Councilman, a middle-aged black man with an afro like sports reporter, Steven A. Smith, shifted uneasily in his seat. He was beginning to regret getting in bed with gangsters."Mr. Love, things just aren't that simple. I'm" "Sure they are.""Only one vote of a nine man council. Horse trading can only go so far," Joyner complained. He stopped the cart by the parking lot. Love smiled and patted him on the back."That's why I voted for you, Councilman, because I know you're the man for the job."Joyner started to protest, but Love was already walking away. Love had no doubt he'd get what he wanted, because he always got what he wanted. His success had spoiled him. Not L that it had been easy, but neither had he. Love chirped the alarm on his metallic gray BMW 6 series Gran Coupe, taking off his suit jacket as he got in and laid it across the passeng e rAs he drove, his mind flickered over the conversation with Councilman Joyner. He knew Joyner would come through. It would probably cost him the ability to allocate some of the money to his business partner's construction company. But that was minor to the overall picture. It was the same way in the streets. It was all thug politics. The thought made his mind turn to Antman's murder. He understood Thump's point that somebody in the crew was sour, but it didn't add up. Not when they found out that the money Ant was holding, over eight hundred thousand, was still safe in Ant's stash. An inside job would've focused on the money. This was deeper, especially considering the nigga who killed Antman, whom Jo-Jo and Bam reported as having said, "If I don't eat, y'all don't eat."Just thinking about that made his blood boil. Dude really thought he could extort a Don? Love thought. It had been a while since Love had to put his murder game down. He had come up from a youngin', making his presence felt. From a runner to block hugger, and then a lieutenant to having his own block, virtually running the city. There was no way one man was going to be a problem. If he had to scorch the city just to get his man, he would, because he believed in killing mosquitoes with axes. He stopped at the light. His consciousness surfaced from thoughts long enough to know that Drake was on. He hated Drake. Love leaned over to change the station, and all of a sudden, he felt a strong impact and the whole car shook. He started to go for the gun in the stash, but as he came up seat.
looking in the rearview, he saw he had been rear ended by a woman driver. His instincts said "be easy', as he assessed the situation. Love's adrenaline slowed as he fully realized it wasn't a set up. It was just a fender bender. He got out the car to assess the damages. The woman still hadn't gotten out of her bronze Honda Accord. She was too busy arguing on her cell phone. Love reached in and blew his horn in an aggravated way to get her attention. He was vexed that his car was fucked up, but looking at a cinnamon complexioned, doe-eyed beauty with full pouty lips that reminded him of Sanaa Lathan, he couldn't stay mad for long. The woman looked up when he blew his horn and grilled him like he was interrupting. She got out screaming, "Now look what you made me do! I done crashed my shit, nigguh!
What! Nigguh, fuck you! How 'bout that. Fuck --you, you nodick-havin', broke-back, bitch ass nigguh! Fuck you!" she spazzed over the phone, even though no one was really on the other end. Then she slammed her phone on the floor of her car with a grunt like Serena Williams serving Ace. Love watched her with a smirk on his face. She definitely had fire. He liked that. In her heels, she was over six-feet tall and looked to come up to his shoulder, very shapely in statuesque. She filled out her jeans like a stallion, and he could see she wore no bra under her white wife beater, because her cantaloupe-sized breasts jiggled freely with her tantrumized movements. After she slammed the phone, she finally turned to Love, looked him up and down, and then snapped, "What!""What?" he echoed with assured aggravation. "You hit my shit!" She looked at him, and then at the car.
"That's you?" "Yeah," he replied like, Duh!
"A BMW? Psst, you can afford it," she remarked dismissively. Sexy stallion or not, she was pushing a little too much attitude. He pinched the bridge of his nose like, "Yo man, you go tShe took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'm just havin' a bad day. Really, I apologize," she replied in her syrupy southern drawl, pouring it all over him like he was a biscuit, or she was the glaze, and he was the donut. Something about a southern accent softened people, made the con that much easier because no one believed a southerner could take them fast. Love softened like, "Ma, don't worry about it. Let's just speed this up 'cause we blockin' traffic.""Oh, I'm sorry." She glanced around, seeing the cars going slowly around them and some drivers rubbernecking. "Let me get my insurance card."Love walked over as she sat in the driver's seat, started to reach for the glove compartment, but then sat back up."Okay. For real, for real, I don't have insurance," she admitted, biting her bottom lip, giving him her cute I-fuckedup I Love Lucy look. "I just moved up here from Georgia because I met this guy on Facebook, and he was so cool and I was tired of Georgia. I feel so stupid, but I really needed a change and as soon asHer rapid-fire delivery of run-on sentences jumbled in Love's head just like she knew they would. He held up his hand."Yo, relax. Don't stress it.""No really, I'ma pay for the damages as soon as I get a job."Love glanced at his watch.
some insurance?" " "Look ... This what we gonna do. You gonna take me to lunch, and we'll call it even.""Lunch?" "Lunch, and you payin'." He chuckled.
"Shit, then we must be goi n' to M cDonald's."He laughed because her accent made it funny, but that's exactly where they went. She doubled up the trays and carried their order to the table.
As she sat down, she slid him a tray and they divvied the order. He took one of her fries. She smacked his hand. He ate it anyway."So, you gonna tell me your name, Country Girl?" He smirked."Are you, City Boy?" she shot back.
"I'm Love." "Love? What you? A stripper or somethin'?" He laughed.
"Naw ma, that's my last name.""Oh!" she replied, giving him an approving look that she knew would encourage him. "I'm Jazmine.""Like the flower, huh?" She smiled."Yeah, like the flower. And . . . I really am sorry. I'm gonna pay for it, I promise."He ate his fries.
"Soyou lookin' for a job, huh?" "Depends on the job," she retorted, skeptically.
"Be easy, ma. You ain't gotta give me that type of look." "You ain't gotta give me that kind of line." She may've been country, but Love knew she wasn't green."I'm sayin', I got this mentoring agency, and I'ma need a receptionist," he explained."Mentoring Agency?" "Yeah.""No offense, but you don't look like the ... mentorin type," she quipped."Never judge a book by its cover." "Some covers are just easy to read," she shot back.
Love sipped his milkshake and eyed her."Yo, ma. I like your style. For real, you seem like somebody I need to know.""Maybe. But if you do give me a job, it's only one problem.""Which is?" "I don't mix business with pleasure." She winked.
"Okay, you're fired." He grinned.
She was in.
Game begins ...