Adele sat the remote down on the coffee table and picked up her baby, carrying him off to the bedroom. Entering the master bedroom, she found Marquan sitting down on the side of the bed, counting up them dead presidents. He had nine rows and counting of stacks of wrinkled bills. This was all the money he’d made out in the streets.
“I need you to watch my back while I handle this hoe out here, she trippin’. I’ma have to tap that ass.” Adele said, passing her baby boy off to Marquan. She then pulled her hair back in a ponytail and tangled a rubber band around it.
“Baby, who you talking about?” Marquan’s forehead creased.
“Yo ex-b***h, Jah,” She answered him as she stuck her socked feet inside of her sneakers.
“Jah? Who she out there with?”
“Hell if I know, but I’ma ‘bouta beat the brake
