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352 pages, Paperback
First published April 2, 2013
Dante Walker is flippin' awesome, and he knows it.
"Girl, I got swag for days."
Park it like it's hot, Snoop!
I'll never understand the friendships Charlie has. Friendships where it doesn't take cash or hookups, or saying the right things to stay in the circle. No, Charlie's friendships are different. She tries to protect her people, and they in turn protect her. They accept each other's imperfections and support one another. My friends weren't like her friends, which makes me wonder if I ever had any at all.
"In this trunk," she says with a serious face, "is God's gift to women."
"Stop guessing," she says.
Man, it feels good to seal souls. Like eating a little slice of bacon.
I could get used to having a sidekick gone rogue.
What am I supposed to feel? Guilt? Shame? No. I won't. I am The Collector.
How can someone be cruel to this chick? It's like picking a fight with a chipmunk.
I am The Collector. It’s not as bad as it sounds. I’m kinda like Santa Claus. We’re both jolly guys with a passion for frosted cookies, the color red… and sorting souls. My job is simple: weed through humanity and label those round rears with a big red good or bad stamp. Old Saint Nick gets the good guys, and I get the fun ones.
“You nasty, you nasty. You mama said you nasty!”
“Hey,” he says. He pulls out my black Hugo Boss dress shirt, then holds it up to his nose and sniffs loudly.
“Dude. Stop.” I pull the shirt from his hands and toss it on the bed.
“I just love your scent,” he says in his chick voice.
“You and everyone else, my friend.”
I hunger for her to know this is who I am.
And to accept me anyway.