Meek was just a smooth-ass nigga. The things he said, but even more what he didn’t say … smooth. The way he walked … smooth. The way he commanded … smooth. The way he pulled her closer and tapped on the small of her back as they danced … effortlessly smooth. Morgan swooned as she followed his lead, side to side, swaying like a couple. Only they weren’t, but damn if they didn’t look couple-ish. He was a hood nigga in all his hood nigga glory, but he was top shelf. VSOP. He knew when to turn it off. Taking him in didn’t come with a bite. He was smooth. An effortless gangster.
