Page 24 of The Price of My Sins
The encounter ensured it was definitely time for me to go. This day had already been on my nerves, and Bambi throwing out that little flex like she won a damn prize was the nail in the coffin.
I knew about her and Bo fucking. That wasn’t new to me. But hearing her say it out loud, with that smug little smirk on her face like she was proud of being a chapter he barely remembered, that shit made me pause. I played it cool when she was standing in front of me, but inside, something cracked.
The wild part was that her bragging about Josh didn’t even faze me. That nigga is a hoe—a mistake I already made peace with. He was a storm I’d survived. But, Bo? That was something else entirely. He was the one person I couldn’t lie to myself about. So, hearing her say what I already knew stung a little deeper.
I freshened up before slipping into some black leggings, an oversized hoodie, and my favorite slides. My body was tired, but my mind was exhausted. On my way out, I made sure to stop by the front and collect my cash from the bouncer, who handed me my duffel bag and nodded his head as I slipped out the front entrance.
I stepped out into the night, the cool air hitting me like a reminder that I was back in the real world. I yawned as I pulled my keys from my pocket. When I looked up, I was shocked to seeBo, dressed in an all-black sweatsuit, leaning against his truck with a hoodie on and his arms crossed like he’d been posted there for hours. His head was down at first, but when he heard the door click shut behind me, his eyes lifted and locked on mine.
I slowed to a stop just a few feet from him, eyes scanning every inch like I was trying to memorize him all over again. Weeks had passed since I’d seen Bo, but my heart didn’t get the memo. My heart rate kicked up the moment his eyes met mine—steady, familiar, and full of that quiet intensity that always made the rest of the world fall away.
“Hey,” I said softly because I didn’t trust myself to say more than that.
“Come take a ride with me,” he said, already opening the passenger door as if it wasn’t a request.
I blinked, hesitant. “What about my car? I’m not leaving it out here.”
Before he could answer, a tall, lean dude walked out from the shadows. I tensed, but Bo stayed calm.
“Give him your keys.” Bo nodded toward the guy. “He’s cool. He’s gonna take your car to your mama’s spot.”
I narrowed my eyes, skeptical. I didn’t know this man from a can of paint. But Bo didn’t do random folks. If he trusted him, it meant something, so I figured I could trust him too.
Still, I hesitated before asking, “He got a name?”
“Marcus,” Bo said. “He’s cool, O.” Bo let out a low chuckle. He knew I didn’t play about my car.
Marcus gave me a respectful nod, hands in his pockets, waiting. Something about his energy told me he wasn’t here for games.
With a small sigh, I handed my keys over. “If you wreck my shit… I fight niggas.”
Bo smirked a little. “Girl, you ain’t fighting nobody. Get your ass in the truck.”
“Nigga, I beat your little girlfriend’s ass.” I smirked, and he chuckled. “Stop playing like a bitch ain’t got them hands.”
I climbed into the truck, the door shutting with a heavy thud behind me. The moment Bo settled into the seat beside me, the tension shifted, but I’d be damned if it didn’t feel good to be near him. I missed him, even though I knew the feeling wasn’t mutual. Well, at least I don’t think it was.
The engine rumbled to life, and just like that, we were riding out of the parking lot and into the night. The ride was quiet until Bo put on some music. When “You All I Need To Get By” by Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell played throughout the truck, I turned to him, unable to hide my smile. Bo, at thirty-two, was an old soul through and through. He would listen to some new-age R&B sometimes, but if it wasn’t classic soul or old-school R&B, he didn’t really fuck with it, and I loved that about him. It reminded me of home—of Saturdays with Al Green spilling out of my parents’ speakers or Teddy Pendergrass crooning through the living room as if he belonged there.
As Marvin’s voice warmed the car, I couldn’t help myself. When Tammi Terrell’s part came in, I leaned back, closed my eyes for a second, then turned toward Bo with a grin and started to sing. Soft at first, then louder, matching Tammi’s every note. I hit every note to the best of my ability, hoping to pour a little sweetness into the space between us.
Bo glanced at me, the corner of his mouth tugging into that slow, crooked smile of his. “You know you can’t sing, right?” He chuckled.
I cackled, tapping him on the shoulder and I kept going, undeterred, throwing in a little shimmy for good measure. The car swayed ever so slightly as Bo laughed, shaking his head.
“I swear, O… you got no shame,” he said, eyes flicking between the road and me.
“None,” I agreed proudly. “You should be grateful. Most people gotta pay to hear a performance like this.”
“Oh, is that what this is? A performance?”
I leaned in closer, still singing, deliberately off-key now, and pointed at him like I was on stage. “A masterpiece, thank you very much.”
Bo snorted. “More like a disasterpiece.”
“Whatever, negro. Don’t be asking me to do a duet either. I don’t come cheap.” I playfully rolled my eyes.
For a second, it was as if the weeks hadn’t passed—as if nothing had changed. The tone between us softened, familiar in a way that made my chest ache. I looked at Bo, really looking at him, and before I even realized what I was doing, I reached over the console and rubbed his beard the way I used to. “You are all I need to get by, Big Bo,” I said, my voice low and steady, even as my heart tumbled in my chest. “I miss you, baby. I miss us,” I confessed, my voice cracking.
