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  “You’ve been with one guy your whole life,” my best friend, Keisha, went on. “You ain’t ready for these 2020 men. They are ruthless.”

  To say that I was in my feelings was an understatement. I had totally turned my life upside down because I had naively believed some fantasy that G had sold me. It had only been three days since I had broken things off with Dame, and it had only been a week and a half since I had been living on my own. I already felt the difference. Dame would never leave me hanging when it came to the kids. However, he had definitely already cut the purse strings when it came to me.

  “So, what are you going to do?” Keisha pressed.

  I groaned, frustrated with this conversation. By the solemn look on my face, she should have known that I didn’t feel like talking about this, but she had gotten so tipsy already that she wasn’t paying my annoyed expression any mind at all.

  “About what?” I acted oblivious.

  Keisha’s head tilted as her eyes bucked. “About Dame, about making sure that you can pay this rent that you just signed a lease for, and about this baby you’re carrying.”

  My nose turned up. “Damn, bitch, why you gotta be the bearer of bad news?”

  Keisha laughed and shrugged. “This ain’t news to you.”

  My eyes rolled as I took a long, burning sip of the Long Island. I was hoping that it would burn my troubles away, but it hadn’t worked. “It ain’t nothing that I want to hear right now, though.”

  “Aye, you need to figure these things out. Aren’t you damn near two months?”

  I cringed. “Yes.”

  “So, what are you going to do?” Keisha pressed.

  I smirked at Keisha as she looked down on me, sipping from her 1800 on the rocks with a splash of lime. “Get an abortion, obviously.”

  “What if it's Dame’s baby? You know how he feels about his kids. You know he’ll take you back if you’re pregnant. Are you sure it's G’s baby?”

  I pouted. “Yes. You know I had stopped fucking Dame months ago because I was over him.”

  “So, when are you going to get the abortion?”

  “When I come up with the money.”

  Keisha’s lips turned up as her brow furrowed with confusion. “Come up with the money? G won’t give it to you?”

  I winced from embarrassment. “He won’t even answer the phone.”

  Keisha shook her head. “Damn. See? I told you these 2020 men are heartless as hell. They are cold, girl. Just get back with your baby daddy.” She dug the knife in deeper by shaking her head in shame for me.

  “And what am I going to do about this new lease and this baby?” I challenged her.

  “Break that fucking lease and skim some more of Dame’s money to get the procedure.”

  I shook my head. She’d said that as if it were so damn easy.

  “That's if he even lets me get close enough to him again to do that.”

  Dame was hurt. He always tried to act nonchalant whenever we talked, but I could tell by the way he had been interacting with me. I had known since the moment we got together fifteen years ago that he was serious about being a father. That's why I knew he would never leave me once I got pregnant with Brea. If it was anything that he gave one hundred percent, it was the streets and being a father to our three kids. That was why I knew that moving his kids out of our family home was something I knew would break his heart. Those kids were part of his identity, and I had taken them from him. I knew he would feel betrayed. Yet, I did it anyway, influenced by G’s fake love, but I had no idea that Dame would cut me off the way he had. He had turned cold. His only interest in me were his children. I had totally defied my helpmate, and I was definitely feeling the wrath.

  Just then, I saw him. I had been with that man for most of my life, so I could spot him anywhere. Dame was on the other side of the entrance, in the foyer of the popular and crowded bar and grill, getting patted down. My heart began to beat frantically. He looked good that night. He was only draped in an Adidas jogging suit, but his large frame made the cotton look more expensive than any high-end brand being worn in the building.

  I cut my eyes as I noticed a woman behind him. My blood pressure instantly went through the roof as I noticed him holding the door open for her. I failed to keep my composure as they looked to be already acquainted with one another and coming in together. My expression changed from solemn to pure rage and jealousy. Keisha finally stopped running her mouth long enough to see my facial expression contouring angrily.

  She followed my eyesight and gasped. “Ooooo,” she sang lowly. “So, that’s why you drug me out tonight.”

  “Shut up,” I hissed as I scooted down, attempting to hide behind the crowd of clubbers and watch Dame and this bitch walk through the club.

  Tempest Murphy

  “It’s twenty dollars to get in,” the bouncer told me.

  I recoiled with embarrassment and regret. “Oh, I don’t have any cash. Is there an ATM inside?”

  He shook his head carelessly. “Nope.”

  “Shit,” I fussed.

  The guy who had rode in the Uber with me looked back and down at me. I believe the Uber driver had called him Damien. Finally seeing him in the light, I was impressed. He was obviously quite rough around the edges. He looked like the typical street dude, but the handsome features of his face were magnetic.

  He was gorgeous from the depth of his eyes to the gentle, deep rumble of his baritone voice as he told me, “I got you, shorty,”

  “No, that’s okay,” I insisted. “I can go find an ATM.”

  “The nearest one is two blocks away,” the bouncer warned me.

  I looked down at the five-inch pumps that I had paired with my long-sleeved midi dress. “Shit.”

  “I got her,” Damien told the bouncer.

  Not wanting to have to walk two blocks in heels, I accepted the favor with a sheepish smile.

  After being patted down, Damien took out another twenty and gave it to the woman taking the door money. He then even waited as my purse got searched and then held the door open for me. We walked into the crowded bar and grill together.

  I took out my phone. As I started to text Erica, I told Damien, “Thank you. Can I pay you back by buying you a drink?”

  Tempest: I’m here. Where are you?

  “I’m good,” Damien said over the music barreling through the speakers as we made our way through the crowd in front of the entrance.

  “Please? That was really nice of you.”

  He looked down at me, blushing. “It's all good. Why don’t you let me get you a drink, or are you meeting somebody here?”

  “I’m meeting my girl here. She should be here already.”

  “Y’all wanna chill in VIP?”

  I had pegged him as some hoodlum the moment he had gotten in the car. Yet, now looking up into his eyes and hearing his vernacular, I could tell that he was mature, but still very much hood. His hoodie and joggers that he had chosen to wear at a popular bar and grill on a Friday night screamed “hood nigga”, but his jewelry screamed, dope boy.

  I was good on either or. Though being around men like that reminded me of my father, I wasn’t interested in the unstable drama that their lives entailed.

  As he waited for my answer, my phone vibrated in my hand, indicating that I had gotten a text message. It was Erica.

  Erica: Sorry, boo. I got sidetracked. I’ll be there soon.

  Bitch.

  Me: Kenny called you, didn’t he?

  I awaited as the bubbles in her reply box danced.

  Erica: