Guess it was my fault that Samir became a guest in my float house the night after Mrs. P sent him packing with a broom to his head. He was still laughing when I got home and found him camped there on my settee with the blanket pulled over his lean black body. Pepsi was there too, drinking white grape juice from my little apartment-type fridge and eating Frito-Lay chips.
“It"s only for tonight,” I said, and turned on some lights. “Yes, sis,” Samir said. “You know it"s his fault, the snitch.” “I"m a whistle-blower,” Pepsi agreed.
hisSamir sat up straight and slid his jeans to his knees. “She"ll be over it in the morning. Let"s get a good night"s sleep first, cuz.”
“Where am I gonna sleep?” Pepsi asked. He brushed crumbs onto the area rug and ground them in with his boots.
“There are two
