A Snowbunny in the Hood

Red and I are up early, headed to the campus of East Tennessee State. My homies have an apartment and invited me and a guest to hang out while on Spring Break.

Finesse is the ringleader I've known since middle school. He briefly attended college.

However, with the help of an ATL Plug, his business moved from Atlanta to Tennessee. Finn is now the Tennessee Plug.

The Blue Ridge mountains are beautiful. I fire up a joint, put in Prince and enjoy the view.

Both outside with Mother Nature and inside with little mama. As I reminisce, she reminds me of Amy Adams in the Fighter, except with more ass.

We arrived just in time to watch the Sweet 16 game. Clemson vs UConn. It's an instant classic.

Our team plays a great game, however we come up just short. Red is in tears as she hugs me.

No worries, Boo. Let's celebrate the end of an exceptional year.

We fire up the joints and take shots of vodka with Bull chasers. We drown our sorrows and celebrate at the same time.

Let's ride, got some business and I need your help. Is the girl going? Finn asked.

Red speaks up.

Hell yeah, I'm riding boys.

We hop in the Caddy. The sunroof is open. Even though the Tigers lost, it's still a lovely Tennessee mid-afternoon.

Finn looks over at me and smiles. I'm instantly in warrior mode. My hood instincts kick in. I know we are about to either get dirty or do dirty.

What the fuck you smiling at, nigga. I say.

He adjusted his rearview mirror and looked at Red. She is bobbing her head to the beat on the radio.

Red has her Blues Boys shades, a tight Clemson orange T-shirt. White shortie shorts, her legs crossed Indian style, and she's sitting in the middle of the back seat.

Damn, that bitch is hot as hell. Finesse says.

Red is trying to hear over the music and the wind from the sunroof doesn't allow her to understand what he's saying.

What?

I chime in. Finn says you're beautiful.

Thank you, Mr. Finn. I love your car. But I love Tim Kincaid more.

Finn looks at me.

You motherfucker.

I shrug my shoulders, and we have a laugh.

Finn goes to a rough section of town. We pulled into a parking lot in front of about 5 two-story apartment buildings. This is the Projects.

There are about twenty people milling around, predominantly African-American, with a couple's snow bunnies sprinkled in. Finn gives the signal by flashing his headlights.

Okay, take this. He says.

He pulls out a 9 mm from the center console.

I want one. Red says.

I bark at her.

Sit your ass back there and don't say a fucking word.

Her shades are on top of her head. She sits back, crosses her hands and arms in front of her and gives me a mean look and pulls her shades over her eyes. But she doesn't say a word.

I'm selling 4 packs, if one of these nigga move wrong. Well, you know what to do.

This wasn't my first or last hood deal. When doing such deals, it requires you to become a wolf. Body language is important.

I'm six foot three, 200 pounds, with very little body fat. I pulled my shades down, covering my bloodshot eyes to look menacing.

My persona became hard and dark. I don't know these niggas so I had no problem taking care of 1 or all these mother fuckers if required.

They come out one at a time. Finn's window was down, the car running, no music. I glanced back at Red.

She has her shades covering her eyes. She's looking like a little sexy soldier.

The hood entrepreneurs would give Finn the cash. He would hand it to me. I would count the cash, reach in the glove box, give the package to Fin, and he would give it to them.

Everything was going smoothly until the last knucklehead. As Finn gives him his package.

How much for the girl? He asked.

I should have shot the motherfucker for the disrespect. As I raised the 9 Finn signals, no.

Nigga, you couldn't afford her for an hour. Move on before you piss my boy off. He got an itchy finger.

No disrespect, big man. He says.

I look straight ahead and don't acknowledge Him.

Okay, I will holla. Finn says.

We slowly pull off and Finn looks at me.

Damn, Nigga you were going to shoot that motherfucker.

I take my shades off, looking directly at Red while I speak.

I will kill a motherfucker to protect her. When she's with me, she's my responsibility.

Red brings her shades to her nose, peeking over them and silent mouths.

I fucking love you.

We made it back to the apartment. I've got the cash in a brown Winn-Dixie grocery bag. We post up at the kitchen table. Red and I count the loot. We stack them in piles of $500 each.

It's all there, my nigga. I say.

Red has disappeared.

I like the way you move out there. Finesse says.

He picks up one stack and straps a rubber band around the wad and sticks it in his front pocket.

The rest is yours, my nigga. Finn says.

Quit fucking with me.

Don't make me say it twice.

I coolly slide the remaining piles into the same bag.

$1,500 for 15 minutes of work. You can't make that in the NBA. $100 a minute. You always have a spot on my team.

I don't respond. I exit the kitchen, searching for my little red. She had gone to the bedroom.

I enter the darkened room to find my love standing at and staring out the window. She has loosened her braids and is wearing a short, silk black robe.

Night has fallen, the light from the street illuminating through the curtains, which gives her a hauntingly erotic silhouette.

I sense something amiss. Red never spoke while we counted and separated the loot.

She excused herself before the completion of the count. This is the longest time I've gone without hearing her sweet, squeaky voice. It kind of made me nervous.

As I approached, she didn't seem to notice. I come and gently hug her from behind. She is so little. I reached down and slide her braids, revealing the nape. I kiss using only my lips.

My love gives a breathless sigh and removes her shades. She appears to have been crying. Red directs me to The Lazy Boy in the room's corner. She sits on my lap. I move some of her hair behind her ear.

Have you been crying? Is it me?

Kinda, I saw the dark side of you tonight. But that's not what made me weepy.

What then? I asked.

I feel like a stupid sissy.

Stupid sissies aren't pre-law majors.

True.

She agrees with a weak smile.

The way you defended me against that guy. Would you have shot him? She asked.

You're my Boo. I will defend you against anyone who disrespects or threatens you. Baby, while you're with me, I would give and take a bullet for you. I would die for you.

A single tear falls from her baby blues. She takes her adorable little hands, cups my face, and softly kisses me.

No one has ever defended me that way. You make me feel loved and protected when I'm with you.

I'm happy you feel that way. Now enough with this heavy stuff. We're on Spring Break. Let's Go Crazy, let's get wild.

I tickle her sides; she erupts in laughter. I interrupt with a stern face.

Now, young lady, have you ever made love on a bed of cash?

Sure, at least once a week. She replies.

I take her hand and lead her to the bed. I turn on the overhead light.

Wait right here, don't move.

I exit the room to retrieve the bag full of cash. I open the door.

No. Red says.

Yes.

I dump the contents on her as she screams.

No way! No way!

The bills cascade over her sexy little body. She tosses them in the air. Red is now jumping on the bed and gives me the come closer finger.

As I approached, she jumps into my arms. I catch her. Red wraps her legs around my waist. I sort of stumbled and we fall on the bed of cash.

She kisses. We are so hungry for each other. My lover strips off her robe to reveal her luscious naked body. We begin our erotic session, which seems to go on for hours.

Money is flying in all directions. We complete our session. Red's hair looks as though she stuck her finger in an electrical socket. I peel a $20 bill off of her forehead. She peels bills off of my chest and hair.

Is this not the best spring break ever? She said.

I concur counselor.