Syn:Sex Is Syn, Love Is Pain(5)

By: J Peach



Farrah laughed and shook her head. “Literally everything.”

Again, I let out a groan knowing she was right.

“Don’t worry, I’ll email you what we have to do as always. I should really start charging you for this,” she laughed as she waited for me to get the rest of my things together.

“You really should, but I’m broke,” I laughed. “Thanks, Farrah. You know you’re the only reason I’m passing my damn classes,” I told her as we walked out.

I’d already known Farrah for two years by the time we both enrolled in school, both majoring in Criminal Justice. Thank goodness we had all of our classes together because that helped me out a lot. When I was tired, she’d always have my back by catching me up on everything I’d missed.

“Thank you so much, boo. I really appreciate you,” I waved to her once I reached my car.

“Alright, babe. I'll see you later,” she waved back and then walked off to her car.

With a sigh, I hopped in my hot pink Volkswagen convertible. Starting up the car, I pulled off and headed to my first job.



***

“Lawson & Smith’s. This is Angel speaking, how may I help you?” I answered the phone, trying to put a smile on my face. Being tired was killing me. I had been at work for three hours and was ready to go home. But when I did finally get there I would have to leave right back out.

“Hey, Angel. I want to setup a consultation with Mr. Smith,” the woman on the other end of the line said.

I pulled up Mr. Smith’s schedule, took down her name and number, set up her appointment and ended the call. I was so exhausted that the next hour seemed to drag by as I continued the tedious job of answering the phones and setting up appointments. However, once the time read five o'clock, I couldn't have gotten out of there any faster.

The moment I made it to my car my phone started ringing. I dug it out of my purse and answered it. “Hello?”

“Hey, boo, what you doing?” Missy asked.

I put the phone on speaker, started my car and pulled off. “Shit, just getting off. I wanna go home and pass the hell out. What's up, Miss?”

“Nothing really, I’m on my break and I knew you was just getting off. You wanna stop by and blaze one real quick?” She offered, sounding hopeful.

“Umm,” I let out a long hum. I would be pushing time messing with her, but I could really use a pick me up. “Yeah, I'll be there in a minute.”

“Okay, babe, call me when you pull up.”

“Alright. Aye, do you need me to stop and get you anything before I get there?” I asked her as I pulled into a gas station.

“You can bring me something to eat. Can you stop by BBQ’s, please?” She begged.

Why the hell did I ask her ass that? “Yo ass could've said no,” I laughed, knowing she wouldn't have.

“You should've never asked if you wasn't serious. Shit, I always want something,” Missy laughed into the line.

“I know that. Call and order your food,” I said as I got out of my car, walked into the gas station and saw Blaze’s friend Smoke already at the counter. He was just the man I wanted to see and I was so glad I didn't have to go to Delaney for him. “Missy, let me call you back.” I didn't wait on her reply as I ended the call.

Immediately, I walked up to Smoke, stepped in front of him and slid my money to the man behind the counter. “Let me get two grape swisher’s.”

“Here you go,” the man handed me my swisher's.

Smoke chuckled behind me. “So you just gon’ slide in front of me like you ain't see me, huh?” He stepped closer to me so that the front of his body was touching the back of mine.

I looked over my shoulder at him and smiled. “I didn't see you. I was on the phone and really wasn't paying no attention. My fault,” I laughed out a lie.

“That's for real?” He stared at me like he knew I lied.

“Yeah, it is.” I looked out the door then back to him.

He moved off of me, but grabbed my waist. I guess he was trying to maintain some kind of physical contact. “You tryna get into something?”

Laughing, I pushed his arms off of me. “No, I'm not. You wanna walk me to my car?” I didn't wait on his reply as I started to walk off.

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