“Hey, Sexy.”
“Hello,” a sultry female voice said. “May I ask, what is so funny?”
“Nothing, Sexy. I’m just fuckin’ with the Big A, that’s all. What’s up?”
“I was calling to see where you are?”
“We about to get to the spot. Why?”
“Your people had inquired about where you and Mr. Anderson were, so I said that I would be happy to call and find out for them.”
“Tell them that we’re there now,” Hill said as he parked down the street from Salsa Con Tarifa and they got out of the car. “I’ll call you when we leave.”
“Am I going to have the pleasure of your company when you have concluded your business?”
“Depending on how shit go.”
“Outstanding. I will look forward to speaking with you when you’ve finished your business.”
“Bye, Sexy,” Hill said.
“Goodbye.”
Hill ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket as he and Anderson walked back toward Salsa Con Tarifa.
“I may be stupid and let Deshondra get away with too much shit…”
“Long as you admit it.”
“Yeah, I admit it, but you a fuckin’ fool.”
“Why?”
“You know she fuckin’ that nigga, right?”
“So.”
“So you two was all hugged up, lovey-dovey before we left. Now she over there fuckin’ that nigga.”
“No she ain’t. Not unless they havin’ a threesome.”
“I’m just sayin’.”
“Sayin’ what? I don’t give a fuck what she do with that pussy when I ain’t in it. She a hoe. Hoe’s fuck everybody; that’s why they’re hoes,” Hill said as they reached the door to Salsa Con Tarifa and went inside.
Since it was closing time when they got there, there were only a few people left in the place, and security was herding them toward the door. When Anderson and Hill looked around, Carlito Munoz and Edmundo Camacho were coming toward them.
“Caballeros,” Martínez shouted over the music.
“Carlito,” Anderson said and shook hands with both Munoz and Camacho. Hill just stood back with his arms folded across his chest.
“Why don’t you two have a seat at the bar,” Munoz said as he moved in that direction. “Once we get the place cleared out, we’ll play show and tell.”
“Fine by me,” Anderson said and followed Munoz to the bar still looking at his phone.
“Cervantes, get these men whatever they’re drinking,” Munoz said and then he and Camacho went in the back of the spot. Once Cervantes had taken their drink orders and left the pair alone, Hill turned to Anderson.
“You trust these guys? I mean ain’t these the same guys who shot Smoke and Geno and killed Reese?”