I snapped out of my trance, said, “Please, call me Frankie.” “I prefer to call you Miss McBroom.” “I’m as fine as I’m going to be until this is resolved with Franklin Carruthers.” The desert air was crisp, the air conditioner was set at seventy-two degrees, but my palms sweated. As I was driven away from View Park, I evaluated myself. Should’ve worn a coat, but I didn’t have on any heavy clothing, just a pair of skinny jeans, an LA Marathon T, a thin hoodie, and trainers. I didn’t want to put on makeup or dress up and give him the wrong impression. A woman wears a dress, short or long, and a man thinks he’s going to be able to raise it up and pull her panties to the side. This was a reunion, but there would be no uniting. I held my small purse close to me. I was discontent, had been stalked and demoralized for too damn long.
What do You think about Naughtier Than Nice (2015)?
