“Uh-huh.” He brushed his hand across my back twice then pushed me away. “Gone now.”

“I hope you feel better.”

“Yeah. Gone.”

I closed the door and jetted.

As soon as I got a glimpse of Gino, G’s whole asshole could have fallen out for all I cared. Gino was waiting for me downstairs at the desk. The hotel lobby was busy with people running back and forth in all directions. Tourist central. Gino looked damn good. A baby blue Roc-A-Wear shirt and a pair of denim shorts that showed his muscular, slightly bowed legs. Fresh kicks, a diamond ring, smooth dark skin, and a Colgate smile. He was all that.

“Yo,” he said, checking out my red shorts. “The driver is outside, so let’s hustle.”

A young Hawaiian guy who was almost as brown as me was waiting next to a white showroom-fresh Infinity SUV. His hair was straight and he had on a bright dolphin shirt and a pair of khaki shorts.

“Aloha!” He had a lei made of fresh flowers in his hands and I bent my head and let him slip it around my neck. Dude’s name was Justin and he had been in Hawaii all his life. He told us he’d never even been to what he called the mainland and tried to talk us to death asking questions about New York. Finally he got behind the wheel and me and Gino settled into the back of the SUV as Justin took off driving toward Waikiki Beach, pointing out tourist sights to us the whole time. We saw houses that belonged to movie stars and professional basketball players, all the latest cars, and beaches along what had to be the bluest water in the world.

I wasn’t a swimmer, and the only beaches I had ever been on were Coney Island and Jones, but even so I could tell how special the beach at Waikiki was. We had a lot of stuff to see so we didn’t have time to stay and swim, but I did get out and take off my flip-flops and walk around and feel the sand between my toes. The beach was packed with bodies colored bronze by the sun. People were fishing and surfing and playing volleyball left and right, and little kids was running around kicking sand and splashing in the ocean. I went right down to the edge of the water and put my feet in and I was really surprised to see how warm it was.

Gino got out of the car, too, and I guess when he saw me start walking in one direction, he headed the opposite way. There was definitely a charge running back and forth between us. I wasn’t gonna be the first to acknowledge it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. I knew when a man was feeling me. I busted those sly looks at my ass and thighs when he thought I wasn’t looking, because I was checking him out the same way. When I got back to the SUV I leaned against the bumper and tried to brush the sand off my feet while watching him walk back toward the car. He was even taller than G, I realized. Taller and finer.

“All this beautiful weather,” I commented, fucking with him. “And you didn’t even take off your shirt, let alone your sneaks,” I said as he climbed back in the Infinity. “Don’t be so uptight. Can’t feel the Hawaiian sand through your shoes.”

“Who said I’m uptight? Maybe I’m just principled. Not everybody believes in coming out their clothes just like that.”

Boy had it twisted. He must have thought I was some stripper G had dragged in off the stage. I got in the back and put on my seat belt. “Seems to me you’d be down for that type of action, running back home to work at the Spot and all.”

He stared at me. “Let’s go ahead and get this straight real quick. I don’t know you, and you don’t know shit about me. Whatever your thing is with G, I’m sure it’s either slimy or grimy-which is cool, ’cause it ain’t none of my business. But I didn’t come back to New York because I wanna be at the G-Spot, Juicy. Just because that’s how you get down, don’t put it on me.”

Justin interrupted. “Next stop, the windward coast! In less than an hour we’ll be nearing Chinaman’s Hat, and after that it’s taking pictures at the world’s most beautiful lagoon!”

Both of us igged him so hard it wasn’t funny.

“I’m not a stripper, Gino. I’m not a ho either. I don’t work the stage or the rooms, so don’t make no assumptions about how I get down.”

He smirked at me like I was lying.

“For real. G takes care of me, that’s true. But I don’t get down like you think. I’m in college, for your information. I’m a fashion designer and I’m studying for a business degree.”

“Well maybe you’re smarter than you look then. G put me through school, too, and that’s why I came back. Since he paid for my piece of paper he figures I owe him, and helping him open another Spot is how he wants to be repaid.”

I frowned. “Another Spot? Get the fuck out of here.”

“Yep.” Gino nodded, looking out the window. “In Baltimore. He’s already got Jersey locked in, even without a Spot. So now G wants to train a few loyals to slide down to Baltimore and expand his operation.”

“Damn,” I muttered. “Like father, like son.”

“What you mean? I’m my own man. As soon as G opens in B-More, I’m out. It’s back to the West Coast for me. I’m an architect, sugar. I’m about building my people up, not about having my sisters selling their ass to buy dope.”

“So why are you even helping him then? When you lay down with dogs, you get up with fleas. If you’re all about being positive, then why are you here?”

“Why the hell are you here, Juicy? G’s my father, but what’s your goddamn excuse? So what he kicks out the bank. He does that for all his hoes. Yeah, you’re probably the first one he let go to college, but that doesn’t mean you’re smart. Smart would be getting out there and doing you for a living instead of letting a playa like G control you until he takes over your whole life.”

I shook my head. “I’m my own woman, too,” I lied, making shit up as I went along. “G doesn’t own me. After I graduate, I’m outta here. I’m taking my little brother and going someplace where I can design a clothing line and Jimmy can get a decent job and maybe we can buy us a little house. I’m not down for the game either.”

He looked at me real hard. “Okay, Juicy. You ain’t gotta prove nothing to me. I’m not here to make no waves. I’m just a temporary fixture. Give me six months, and I’m out.”

For the next three days Gino and I toured the island together. G’s boil wouldn’t come to a head no matter how much he soaked in the tub, and I couldn’t convince him to let me squeeze it either. It was red and pus-filled and still hurt him like hell. He stayed in bed ordering room service and running things in Harlem from his cell phone, while Gino and I worked Justin overtime by combing every inch of the island.

Being up under Gino had my pussy on fire. He was so damn smart and sexy I masturbated every chance I got, which was mostly at night in the shower. We hung out 24/7 doing things I’d never even imagined myself doing. Didn’t even know I had the heart to do. We swam and snorkeled at eighty-leven beaches and I even surprised myself by climbing on the back of a Jet Ski and letting Gino take me so far out on the ocean I was scared we’d run out of gas.

“Go back!” I was screaming, dragging my feet in the blue water and punching his hard back with one hand while hanging on for my life with the other. I just knew the damn engine on the thing was gonna sputter and die, then send us tumbling into the ocean waves. But then I had a really scary thought. Jaws. Sharks like a mother. I jerked my feet out of that water and wrapped my legs around Gino’s waist so tight we were like Siamese twins.

He called me a punk when I wouldn’t go parasailing the next day, so you know I had to swallow my fear and take the challenge. Getting strapped into a harness positioned between his strong thighs felt like heaven, but once that wind lifted us almost up to the clouds I couldn’t care less how fine he was-he didn’t have no wings. By the time we came down and made it back to shore I was so airsick and seasick I had to go into a bathroom and throw up.