She brushed her hair, watching her hazel eyes, her wide lips, and her creamy dark complexion. The card lay on the vanity: John P. Fletcher. She put on the white dress she had laid out on her bed. She opened her purse, slid in the compact Ruger, silver with a black handgrip, and walked slowly to the corner . . .
Jack had been living the good life for a long while but still hadn’t made it out of the day to day dealings his position demanded of him . . .
Featured: Black Interest
- Caught Up
- Every Boy Should Have a Man
- New-Generation African Poets: A Chapbook Box Set (Nne)
- Sale Nelson George Two Book Set
- The Warmest December
- HNIC (limited edition signed package)
- Prospero’s Daughter
- To Funk and Die in LA
- Scars of the Soul Are Why Kids Wear Bandages When They Don’t Have Bruises
- Song for Night