Free Unconditionally Single by Mary B. Morrison Page A

smiling.
    “I’ll wait in the car, V.”
    Smack!
    “Damn, cut that shit out,” Benito complained.
    “Get out the car before I slap your ig’nant ass again,” I said, turning off the engine. “We have what, a few more minutes or so before your brother calls you? Let’s go get new transpo before we meet up with Grant.”
    Atlanta had hundreds of wooded areas. I wondered how many tricks were left for dead but hoped like hell we didn’t discover any stiff bitches on our way out. Tramping out of the woods, we made it to the service road. Had about the equivalence of a block to walk.
    “B, you ever think about finding your real parents?”
    Benito was quiet.
    I respected his silence. What if Summer’s dad hadn’t kept my seed away from me? What kind of dad would I have been to Anthony? Sunny would be alive. They’d be my new family and we’d be happy. One person’s fucked up decision could ruin another person’s life.
    “B, what will you do with your life, nigga, after I break you off?”
    “Get back with Lace,” he said. “She’ll take me back. But you’ve gotta promise not to fuck my girl again.”
    Nigga was in denial. Some niggas could get rejected a thousand times by a woman and ask to be with her again. That was straight dumb shit. Tell me once, I’m out for good. But given the opportunity, I’d fuck Lace again.
    Making our way into the restaurant’s parking lot, I motioned for Benito to stay beside me. I stood next to a parked silver Mercedes. “Talk to me, nigga, like this is my car and we’re getting ready to leave or something.” Our timing was perfect. Two cars entered the lot, both drove to the valet stand, waited for the one attendant who was doing it all—parking and fetching cars. The recession had rich motherfuckers cutting back on staff, filing bankruptcy and shit.
    I observed the valet attendant getting out of the car he’d parked, watched him race back to the stand. We waited until he handed the woman a ticket. He handed the man dressed in beige slacks with a lavender shirt a ticket too, took his key, placed it on the podium.
    I told Benito, “Let’s move closer, nigga. This is our chance.”
    We waited until the man and woman walked inside the restaurant. The valet hopped inside the car, then drove toward the side lot.
    “Follow his ass in that car, wait for him to park, then cut him off on his way back. Start a conversation—”
    “About what?”
    “I don’t care, nigga. Get him to turn his back toward me, then you keep talking until I get in the car. When I drive toward the exit, he’s going to panic. I’ma keep driving. When he runs inside the restaurant for help, you run to the car, nigga, and get your ass in. Can you handle that part without fucking it up?”
    “You know me, I do my best work under pressure,” Benito said.
    “Like when your remedial ass took Sunny’s dead body back to her apartment?” I got mad all over again. I felt like punching that clown in his nose. Benito was the reason I had been falsely charged with Sunny’s death. I’d swear on my parents’ graves that I did not shoot Sunny. I placed the gun to her head. She pulled the trigger. Maybe I should move out of the country. Go to Paris. Travel the world. Find me some international bitches. My best chance of getting the charges dropped was to marry Sunny’s twin sister, Summer, and have Summer testify on my behalf. That was if the law caught up to me.
    I waited for Benito to distract the valet, then rushed to the podium, picked up the keys, hopped my ass in the red convertible, and made my way toward the exit.
    The valet looked at the car I was in, looked back at the podium, then yelled, “Hey, stop the car!”
    Benito surprised the shit outta me. When dude turned to run toward the restaurant, Benito punched his ass in the back of the head so hard he fell on the ground and stayed there. Benito bent over.
    No, nigga, no. What the fuck are you doing?
    Benito shoved something in his pocket,