After a seven-year bid in a juvenile detention center, Snowden Anderson found it hard matriculating back into the busy streets of L.A. without getting caught up in its rising crime filled with drugs, gang-rivalry, and nightly shoot-outs.
In an atte...
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EIGHT: 937-838-1145 « I wanna be like those girls in the movies To have a man so in love it makes him drop to his knees She's even on his mind while he's asleep at night »
Snow was in love.
Or falling, she would think, to convince herself that falling in love was different than already being in love.
But she knew they meant the same thing and were both equally liable to hurt her.
She wasn't tripping this time around, though, because knowing that Michael felt the same way made it easier to accept it.
"Accept that I'ma bird," Snow spoke to herself, standing in front of the bathroom mirror of Michael's apartment.
She chuckled to herself and shook her head.
"This nigga really got a real G all bent outta shape for him..."
She grabbed the paddle brush on the sink and started to gently work the ends of her hair until she touched the wefts.
Then she glanced at the ice on her wrist that he'd gifted her a couple weeks ago.
She'd been around a lot of rich niggas, both real and those who held up facades, but Michael, although cryptic in everything else, let it be known that he was sitting on money.
He had a lavish apartment, car, expensive pieces of jewelry, and the way he carried himself just screamed money.
Not to mention the expensive pieces of art he had hanging up on his downstairs wall that she'd taken the time to search for just to see how much it was worth.
It made her think of what Thandie would say if she was still alive to see Snow with a man like Michael.
"Get knocked up," she imagined Thandie's high voice advising her, and her manicured hands slapping at her shoulder. "Lock that nigga, dowwnn."
But Snow knew that wasn't necessary.
She didn't need to get knocked up to keep Michael around, she was already doing that without a baby.
Because Michael loved her too, she knew, even though the three wlords never left his mouth.
He showed it, more easily than she did of course, and where any other guy might have faulted her for it Michael paid it no mind.
She liked that about him, too. A nigga that knew he had her in the bag, flaunted her, but didn't force her to confront her feelings head on.
Chill Snowden, Snow scolded herself mentally, when she realized she was fighting her own smile.
She sat the brush down right as she heard two knocks at the bathroom door. She opened it coming face-to-face with Michael, leaning against the framed door.
