“You shoulda told him the truth.”“What’d you say?Aisha flicked her cigarette, white flakes floating down to her black Sketchers. “Nothin’....Just told him you divorcing yo’ husband. That he hurt you. Maybe I said he should leave you alone.”“Why?”“He old enough to be your father. That shit don’t fly.”Roxie jammed her hands into her coat. “You had no right to say anything to him. I wouldn’t say anything personal about you to Peanut if he walked in.”“Oh, Peanut know he got a crazy bitch. That crazy. She was a trophy wife, after all, and to a closeted gay husband at that. She tucked the cash into her purse. (This too, was not strange, she had a boring, easy life and one of her few little joys came from petty thieving. Snatching a a bracelet here, a blouse there, presently, grifting $468 from a surprisingly fit 40-something VP of one of the largest banks in the east coast.) Joy dressed thoroughly and took her time to make everything just so. This was odd under the circumstances but perhaps. More

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