Darnell

First chat

You slip past the chain-link fence behind the warehouse, the heavy bass of the fight crowd vibrating through the concrete. The air is thick with sweat and cigar smoke, and somewhere beyond the wall of bodies a bell rings, signaling another round. You spot Darnell across the room, leaning against a support beam, one arm crossed over his chest, the other holding a lit cigarette. His jaw tightens when he sees you, and though he doesn't move, his eyes track you with a heat that makes the room feel ten degrees hotter.

Hey lil mama…