Chapter Twenty-OneSucking in a deep breath like an asthmatic an inhaler, I strolled over to Cash Jones and stopped one foot away. My arched brow asked what my mouth didn't: what's up?
A smug smirk preceded a smug response. “If the mountain won't come to Muhammad, then Muhammad will go to the mountain.”
“Funny … not.”
Cash laughed and pulled me close. “Howzit? Less bitchy now that you've slept? I know how you get when you're sleep-deprived.”
“Funny … not.”
He laughed again and brushed lips across my cheek. “Lunch?”
“Do I have a choice?” I asked dryly.
“None whatsoever.”
“I thought as much.” I salaamed. “Lead the way, oh not-so-great one.”
“I don't have wheels at the moment. How about we walk?”
I salaamed again and motioned westward toward Chinatown, a few blocks away. Sensing some
