“I love you,” Keisha said. “Do you love me?”

He didn’t respond. He just dragged on his Newport cigarette.

“I asked you a question, Man-Man. Do you love me?”
 
He remained silent.
 
She closed her eyes tight and tears formed under her eyelids. “Man-Man, I have something to tell you. And before I tell you, I want to know, do you love me?”
 
He leaned over and stifled out his cigarette.
 
“Well?” she said. “Do you?” She looked him in the face. Their eyes were glued. Her love-sick eyes stared into his cold, black pupils.
 
“No.”

She sat up. “What do you mean, ‘no’?” she yelled with tears in her eyes. “After all I do for you. After all the love we’ve made. All you got to say is, ‘No’?”
 
“First of all, Keisha,” Manuel spoke firm, “don’t you ever raise your voice at me, again. Second of all, what the hell do you really do for me, huh?” Their eyes were locked. “Third of all, I don’t make love to you, I fuck you. You like it and I like it. That’s where it begins, and that’s where it ends.”
 
Keisha got off the bed. “I can’t believe this shit,” she muttered as she began to dress. “I guess since I’m just a fuck! I’ll just get the fuck out of your damn life! I thought you cared something about me.” Manuel held an impassive stare at her, while she tugged on her jeans. “Well, Mr. Doggett!” she fumed. “Since you don’t care nothin’ about me, I guess you don’t care to know what I had to tell you?”