TRUE COLORS || MR. DALVIN.

[ Chapter 14 ]

Suddenly, the honking of car horn filled my ears and I snapped out of my own thoughts to see Dalvin hanging out the side of Puff's car, waving me over.

"What's up?" I greeted as I opened up the backseat, "Hey, Puffy."

"What's up, girl?"

"Nothin' much," I replied before turning to Dalvin, "Hey." I leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips, that seemed to have happened just a little too fast for him.

"Let's lay down some ground rules while y'all are in my car," Puff said, making us pull away from each other, "Y'all ain't about to make out, touch, talk dirty or any of that up in this vehicle. Not in my car on these brand new leather seats."

"How we finna do all that when I'm in the front seat and she's in the back? You trippin'. And you know good and well these seats are pleather and not leather."

"It don't matter, they look clean enough to be leather," Puffy said, and I shook my head.

"Y'all are a mess," I said.

"You best get used to it, homegirl," he said, pulling off, "We ain't the only messes in the family. You haven't met Mary yet."

"Mary?"

"Another artist, she just got signed in December," Dalvin explained, "She's wild."

"Wild how?"

"You'll see. You ready for some good ass barbecue? Andre knows how to throw down on the pit," he said.

"I'll be the judge of that, ain't nobody can barbecue like niggas in Texas," I bragged, Puffy wagged his finger.

"I heard that before. One of my homeboys is from Austin and he be talkin' about that shit all the time," he said, making a left, "I heard y'all got some good ass Mexican food too."

"Not as good as Taco Bell, I bet."

"Word."

I stared at them before scoffing, "I'ma pretend like y'all didn't just say that. Taco Bell? Y'all think that's Mexican food?"

"Yeah, it got tacos and quesadillas and shit like that, right?"

"Yeah, but that's like....white people's Mexican food. Y'all ain't never been to no taqueria before? Never had carne asada? No sopapillas?"

"Sopa-what?" Puffy asked, confused like it was the first time he'd ever heard the word in his life, and I bet it was.

"Oh my God. You know what - I'ma have to take y'all somewhere one of these days, y'all cannot be living like this no more."

"Hold on, why you saying this like you the one that's Mexican?" Dalvin asked, laughing a bit.

"I mean, I'm not Mexican but 50% of my neighborhood is Mexicans. Two of my road dogs from back home were Mexican girls," I said, shrugging.

"Road dogs?" Dalvin asked.

"You know, road dog. Like your partners. Your homies."