As Kat watched her leave the house, she mused to herself, ‘Tender sure is getting loose wit her lips. I don’t know who the fuck she think she is? She better recognize. I will hurt her. She gettin’ out of the pocket, comin’ out her face sideways. She ain’t been talkin’ ta me like dat. And we ain’t gonna start now. She got one more time ta say some slick shit. You heard! Then I’ma give her what she askin’ for. A serious ass kickin’ … You, bum bitch, I taught you everythin’ you know. I put ya ass under my wing and showed you how to eat. Me! I gave you class. I gave you style. I gave you taste. Introduced you to things you never had or heard of. Yeah, me! I’m dat bitch! You owe me. And you ’bout ta pay like you owe me!”

Heading out the front door, Tender was oblivious to what was going on in Kat’s head. She was greeted by a brand-new, platinum BMW 745, sitting on chrome, two-piece, twenty-two-inch rims. The car sparkled under the streetlights. Q sat in the driver’s seat, nodding his head, banging a rap tune. Tender was an amateur car buff; she knew this car probably set him back about seventy to eighty thousand dollars. He was driving around in house money. Tender was glad that he didn’t have tinted windows because this was definitely the type of car she wanted to be seen in. Besides that, if this was her car and she paid all that money for it, you were going to see her in living color.

Q watched Tender stroll. Her jeans were so tight, it looked like they were painted on. Boy, she got a helluva body on her. She’d make an old man wish for his younger years, he thought. The closer she got to the car, the more her face came into focus. Momentarily, Q studied it. He then realized she wasn’t lacking in that department either. Without any makeup on she still looked good, a natural beauty.

“Q!” She squealed like a young girl as she entered the car.

He just shook his head as he watched her butt slowly fall into the seat. He couldn’t help but lust. He couldn’t help but reminisce over their last sexual encounter. He couldn’t help himself from wanting to create more memories.

“Whew. God damn,” he sighed. “What you do ta me?”

“Pleazzze! You tryin’ ta run game on me.” She flirted, giving him the goo-goo eyes. “Like you ain’t neva seen me before … Tell dat ta sumbody else … Where we headed to?”

“Let’s go out ta eat,” he suggested. “I’m hungrier than a hostage.”

“Where?” she replied. “You got someplace in mind?”