“Tony, you wouldn’t know how to ‘take care of me’ with step-by-step instructions, but I’ll consider…no guarantees now…hiring you to work for me on Mateo’s campaign. I’m sure I could find something for you to do. If I remember correctly, you make a great cup of coffee.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says as I turn and head for the exit. I’m not sure what it will take to persuade Congressman Ruiz, but this wasn’t it. I’ll know my move when it’s time to make it, and it will have Congressman Ruiz coming to me.

I pull my phone out to call for an Uber and see a text message from Mona.

Mona:  Wanna get faded? I have wine and edibles. Gummies, to be exact.

These men who think I should bow and scrape to them have me feeling tight and close to my feelings. I could use some loosening.

I hit send on my message back to Mona.

Me:  Girl, on my way.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kimba

At least I’m not as drunk as Mona.

This occurs to me, though, whilst my legs are straight up in the air, the hem of my dress is scrunched at my waist, and my head hangs off the arm of the couch. I may not be drunk exactly, but maybe a little looser than I planned? And I only had half a gummy.

“I’m deadass serious when I ask this question,” Mona says, her words only slurring the slightest bit.

“What’s the question?”

“Are you ready for the question?”

“I just said…dammit, I’m ready. What’s your question, Mo?”

“Where are all the brothers who eat booty like groceries?”

It’s completely silent for several seconds and then we both start giggling uncontrollably. My head, hanging upside down, bobs against the back of the couch. Mona, stretched out on the floor, staring up at the ceiling fan, cackles and grips her midsection.

“Is this keeping you up at night?” I ask. “Not is the overall temperature of our planet rising at an unsustainable rate? Not how will we address the problem of mass incarceration? Or equal pay for women? But your existential question centers around men who eat ass?”

“I need a man who’s not afraid to put in that work. I mean, girls can do it for ourselves, but we can’t do that. And I get sick of getting myself off. I wanna share the burden.”

I snort. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“My BOB gets the job done, yeah, but it’s not…intimate. Ya know what I mean?” The amusement fades from Mona’s expression. “There’s nothing like being touched.”