Her audacious chuckle from the other end has me chuckling, too. God, I miss her. I miss this.
“I’ve met Caleb,” Lo says. “I doubt very seriously you’re getting the good dick.”
“Oh my God. You did not just say that.”
“Oh, yes I did, honey. I gets the good dick no matter what is going on. That’s a priority. And I’m not talking about that rich-man dick.”
“Ex . . . cuse me?” Laughter defies my good intentions and barges out of my mouth.
“I’m just saying I haven’t met a rich man who can really fuck, ya know?”
“Um, no, I don’t know.”
“Well, Caleb is the only man you’ve ever slept with, so you’ve only had rich dick. You don’t have anything to compare it to. Gimme some of that broke dick. That unemployed, still-living-with-his-mama, sleeping-on-her-couch dick.”
I’m laughing uncontrollably now, and it only spurs her on more.
“That phone-just-got-turned-off dick,” Lo continues, warming to her subject. “Gimme a man who grew up on food stamps and never knew where the next meal was coming from. The rich ones fuck like they’re entitled to your pussy. Fuck me like I’m survival. Like your life depends on my shit. That’s some grateful dick, right there.”
“And yet I’ve never known you to date anyone like what you’re describing,” I remind her.
“Date?” Lo asks, her voice indignant. “Who said anything about dating? I’m talking about fucking. I only deal with those dudes between the sheets and for as long as it takes to give him a ride to the check-cashing store the next morning. You don’t fall for broke dick. Honey, you just get it while you can and ride it while it’s good.”
“God, you never change, do you?” I ask, feeling more lighthearted than I have since the last time we spoke.
“I do change.” Some of the humor leaves Lo’s voice. “Actually, a lot is changing. That’s why I’m calling.”
“Oh, yeah?” I ask absently, dumping steamed sweet potatoes and green beans into the food processor. “What’s up?”
“I have the opportunity of a lifetime!” The excitement Lo has been holding back bursts across the line, giving me pause.
“What kind of opportunity?”
“You know I hustle, right?” Lo cackles. “Like, take side jobs to make ends meet? Well, I was on this shoot for a friend who was paying me in pizza, and Jean Pierre Louis, that new designer everyone is raving about? You know him?”
I glance around my gilded cage, the walls of Caleb’s house that basically define my existence. My T-shirt is stained from the peaches and peas Sarai had for breakfast. My hair hasn’t been washed in days, and I smell strongly of spoiled milk.
“I haven’t exactly been keeping up with the latest in fashion,” I reply dryly.