The guy that had just purchased the beer in the store was driving the vehicle. Jay, standing at five-six and weighing one-forty, seemed to be the ring...leader because he spoke first as they drove to the intersection light. He said, “What’s yo room numba, bitch.” “Uh,” Shane stammered. “I ain’t fin ask you no moe, faggit!” “One twenty-nine,” the victim gasped. “Dat’s a good bitch!” “Why you was walkin’ outside in dem tight shorts wit dat fat booty?” “I just wanted some…” “You just wanted sum. I could never forget that look, that dress, that everything. Even thesmell of her perfume is indelibly etched in my brain. No doubt, she madean impression on me that day, probably more than for my own good. Sheisn't my girlfriend, after all. And she isn't the one wearing the dresstoday.There are dozens, maybe hundreds, of songs written about fascinationswith the love interest of your friend, the whole "Best Friend'sGirlfriend" sort of thing. There aren't many about what I expect is amore. More

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