Brazil walked directly to his car, keys in hand, a Colt Mustang strapped around his right ankle under the leg of his worn-out jeans. His mood had been bad before he got here. Now it was dangerous.

“This your car, baby?” the girl asked.

“Yup,” Brazil replied.

“Where you get it?”

“Crown BMW on West Broad,” Brazil said with a smart-ass smile. “They got a good selection.”

“Oh yeah?” the girl said. “Well, Pretty Boy, that don’t matter ’cause I just picked this one.”

Divinity decided she was the spokesperson for the gang. For one thing, she wasn’t as drunk as the others. For another, the car man was as fine-looking as hell and she might just enjoy herself a little.

“Listen, baby.” Divinity stepped closer to him. “Why don’t you take little Divinity here on a little ride in that bad car of yours?”

She stepped closer. Pretty Boy moved back. The other three closed in. Pretty Boy was standing by the driver’s door, street punks all around him.

“What’s the matter, sugar?” Divinity brushed her fingers over Pretty Boy’s chest. “Euuuuu. What a man! Ummm-ummm.”

She pressed both of her hands against his muscular chest and liked what she was feeling.

“Don’t touch me,” Pretty Boy said.

Beeper got in Pretty Boy’s face.

“What’d you say to her, motherfucker?”

“I told her not to touch me. And get out of my face, asshole,” Pretty Boy said without raising his voice.

“Get outta my way,” Divinity told Beeper. “He’s mine.”

Beeper stepped aside. Divinity wanted to touch Pretty Boy again. She was getting interested in him touching her back. She leaned her breast against Brazil’s arm.

“How’s that feel, baby?” she cooed. “It sure do feel good to me.”

“What the fuck you doing?” Dog exclaimed, grabbing her elbow and pulling her away.

“Man!” Sick started walking in cocky circles. “Smoke see you, he kill all our asses!” he almost screamed.

Only Beeper kept his thoughts to himself. He seemed tired of Divinity showing off her parts as if she was some kind of V10 Viper that everybody wanted to drive.

“Let go of the white-meat boy,” Beeper suggested to her.

“Let’s just take his car and get the fuck outta here,” Dog nervously said, looking around and wetting his lips.

“I’m not giving you the car,” Pretty Boy told them. “It’s not paid for.”

Divinity laughed and got close to him again.

“It’s not paid for!” she hollered. “It’s not paid for! Oh baby, well it’s good to know that ’cause we sure wouldn’t want to steal no car that wasn’t paid for!”

Sick, Dog and Beeper got into it. They started laughing and sneering, strutting around like badass chickens in a barnyard, pants hanging lower, boxer shorts riding higher.

Divinity put her hands on Brazil again, and she smelled like incense and her breath was bad. Her fingers trailed over his chest, and when she pressed up against him, grinding her pelvis into his, he shoved her away.