Lacy looked quite modest next to the sleek black hog, as the old players used to call Cadillacs back when she was a kid. But she didn’t care how small and low-key Lacy looked next to this car. She loved Lacy and dreaded the day when she would have to get rid of her. Marsha named all of her cars, and then drove them until the car would practically scream no more. Marcus chided his mother about how long she drove a car. He always told his friends, “I’ve only been in two cars my entire life—Callie, Mom’s blue Subaru, and Lacy, Mom’s blue Ford Escape. It would be nice to see the inside of another car before I have children of my own.” She turned off Lacy’s engine and patted the steering wheel. “Girl, I don’t know why folk give me such a hard time about you. Lacy, you have made sure that I have always gotten everywhere I’ve needed to go.” Marsha got out of the car and walked up the fancy brick walkway leading to Denzelle’s huge, double front door. She had heard that his house was so sharp it was almost off the grid.
