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kisses.
    “I’m tired of getting a busy signal every time I call you at the Recovery House. The phone is already charged and I put my cell phone number on lock; all you have to do is push a button to stay in touch.”
    “Matt,” she said softly. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I was out there messing with that stuff for so long; I never had muchof nothing and I damn sure never had a cell phone that wasn’t a throwaway or one I didn’t steal off a sucka. I never had a legitimate hookup.” She smiled at her gleaming new phone. “Thanks, Mr. Wheeler.”
    Being called Mr. Wheeler made Matt bristle, but he held his tongue and gave Onika a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Poor Onika had started getting high when she was just sixteen and Matt hated that the young woman had experienced such hardship and seen so much ugliness in her short life. He intended to give her far more than just a cell phone. Onika was proving to be everything he desired in a woman. She deserved major props for being so patient with his erection and premature ejaculation problems.
    He often kidded about being an old man, but in reality he felt he was too young to start taking Viagra. More than likely, his problem was psychosomatic. Having sex with the same woman for over twenty years had given him some serious dick problems.
    However, with Onika in his life, Matt believed it would be just a matter of time before he was back on top of his game, stroking that thing and laying pipe for hours. Without a doubt, Onika was the antidote to his sex problems. And if he didn’t watch himself, he was going to be completely strung out. Oh hell…who was he fooling? Onika had him whipped and he loved it.

CHAPTER 3
    A t the end of the evening, Matt and the male members of the crew loaded up the van with the heavy equipment. Carrying only her purse and a package of disposable cleaning cloths, Onika ambled to the back of the van and tossed in the package and then strolled over to the front passenger door. “Is it locked?” she yelled to Matt as she placed her hand on the door handle. Matt, still hard at work helping the fellows load up the van, responded by clicking a button to disarm the lock.
    “Whassup, Onika? You too cute to help us out back here?” an irritated Cochise asked.
    “Stop frontin’, Cochise,” she said, laughing. “You know I don’t do no heavy lifting.”
    “Seems like you don’t do much of nothing,” Cochise complained, shooting Matt an accusatory look.
    Matt ignored the look and gave an industrial-sized carpet cleaner a hard shove inside the van. With all the equipment accounted for and loaded, Matt slammed the door. “Let’s go, fellows,” he said, wiping his hands down the front of his shirt.
    Eager to bring the work evening to a close and more than ready to get his drink on, Theo pulled open the side door and hopped in. Mr. Faison shuffled along behind him. With a toothpick jutting defiantly out the side of his mouth, Cochise gave Matt a dark, brooding look before he stepped inside the van.
    Matt wondered if Cochise had caught on to his relationship with Onika. He wouldn’t have been surprised. It wasn’t as if he and Onika had been terribly discreet. Yeah, Cochise knew what was up and was probably miffed that while he worked like a mule, Onika barely lifted a finger, yet she made the same amount of money as he.
    Matt had no intention of placating Cochise. One wouldn’t expect such a big ole fellow to be so damn temperamental. It was probably that Apache blood or whatever the hell he was mixed up with that made the man so sullen at times. Matt figured that if Cochise didn’t like the way he did business, he could take his recovering alcoholic, Indian-looking self and go work somewhere else. He wasn’t doing Matt any favors. Unskilled labor came a dime a dozen. Cochise should be grateful.
    Headed for Chester, Matt wheeled the van onto I-95 south. Mr. Faison fell asleep the moment the wheels started turning. Theo sipped