“Aiight. Look I’ma get off this phone. I might hit you back.”CiCi selected three photos from his phone’s image gallery – each a revealing sh...t of beautifully round glistening chocolate ass. He texted them to Boston and returned his focus to the episode of ‘House of Cards’ he had paused when the phone rang. Within thirty minutes, Boston was calling again.“Hello,” CiCi said.“Who is that in them pics,” Boston asked.“It’s me.”“Hell naw. That’s a chick’s ass.”“That chick is me.”“Shit. I can’t. “Try and put it all behind you, Tony,” he said. He hit a nerve, how can he say that, after what these people did to my family. I gave him a look of daggers.I ran into my room, changing into my jogging gear. I steamed out, nearly knocked over Father Petrou. Dodging him, I sprinted out of the churchyard onto the street. I could hear him call my name, as his voice faded away.I sprinted towards Alexandra Palace. The distance was two kilometres, a warm-up for me, even with its steep ascent. That is. More

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