She grabbed her purse from where it had fallen to the hotel floor along with her coat and made her way across the living room.
“I’d think twice about this if I were you, Lee!” he called out to her, stopping her in her tracks. “From what I’ve heard, the prosecutor has a pretty good case against your boy. They have my testimony and the testimony of a few other people who saw him threatening me at a restaurant in D.C. less than two months before the shooting. They said he grabbed me and he pushed me. Even a cabbie saw him threaten my life.” He sat his soda can on the coffee table and shoved his hands into his robe pockets. “Ev could go away for a long time. Are you sure you want to be responsible for that?”
She turned around to face him. “I’m not responsible for it—you are, you petty asshole! And even if I did have sex with you, I know there are no guarantees with someone like you. You’re a snake,” she snarled. “Your word means nothing.”
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” he sang.
“You are a piece of shit, Dante . . . and if someone finally does manage to kill your ass one day, it’s well deserved.”
He raised his brows. “Better hope I didn’t get that on tape, sweetheart.”
She was tired of sparring with him, with arguing with him. She felt like a fool and just wanted to go home and wash the sensation of his tongue and kisses off her skin. She wanted to scrub her hand with soap and scalding hot water one thousand times. She strode to the door.
“See you in court, Lee!” he called as she swung the hotel door open. “I’ll be the black man who isn’t wearing an orange jumpsuit.”
He laughed as she slammed the door shut behind her.
Pearl Tongue Page 27