“How was Prudence?” He grinned and raised an eyebrow.
“Fine.” I scratched the back of my neck, not sure what to say.
“Good woman.” He pulled out his papers and rolled a smoke.
As I watched him lick the edge of that paper, it dawned on me, the awful truth. “How many times you been with her?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Jealousy flooded my heart that he’d plucked the bloom on my sweet desert rose. “Godamnit, Tin, you didn’t tell me.”
“Tell you…what? That I let her grind my corn? For Jesus sakes, John, it was only a few times. She can be your girl all you want, but it’s not like she belongs to nobody else. If she was all yours, she’d be a mighty poorly paid whore.”