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Chapter 10: The Morning After


Something was ringing. Long, shrill, persistent rings.

Fuck, was my first thought before I even bothered to open my eyes as I rolled over toward the ringing. Picking up the phone, I said hello a few times—each time to silence. I was about to hang up and go back to sleep when I heard, "What are you doing at Justin's house at this time?"

I frowned at the bubbling anger that the person on the other end of the line was struggling to control when I realized what had been said. "What are you talking about?" I said, and no sooner than I got that out did a shower fresh, towel clad Justin stroll out of the bathroom with steam trailing out behind him.

"What the fu..." I cried, jumping up from the bed, getting tangled in the sheets and falling to the floor. "What are you doing here?"

Walking over to the other side of the bed, when I was still laying, his eyes looked like they were laughing as he grinned down at me before looking around the room for a moment. He said, "I believe this is my bedroom
in my house."

A frown overcame my features as I processed his words, putting them together with what the person on the phone had said. Looking around the room from where I still sat on the floor by the bed, I spotted some weights sitting in the corner of the room and a wall-lined with more sneakers than one person could ever need—both of which ruled out any possibilities that I could be in my own room.

"So it is." I said, pushing myself to my feet. "You got a phone call."

Heading back into the bathroom, he said, "Who was it?"

"I dunno. I didn't get that far into the conversation before you walked out of the bathroom half-naked..."

He chuckled loudly from within the bathroom. "And you were so flustered that you couldn't finish the conversation?"

"You say flustered, I say disgusted."

He laughed louder at that, like it was impossible for a woman to see him barely clothed and not think about jumping out a window rather than jumping his bones. "I think you might still be drunk." he said, appearing at the doorway—his towel curiously lower. Realizing I'd been watching how the top line of the towel crossed low on his pelvis, I forced myself to meet his eyes again. Which turned out to not be the best idea, because the bastard was smirking at me now.

He licked his lips for a few moments, his eyes seeking out mine, as silence took the place of my missing words. "It probably was Christina." He said, suddenly retreating back into the bathroom again.

"What?" I said, having completely forgotten what the hell we were talking about before.

"I said, I think it was Ricci calling." He said, louder. "Why don't you just come in here, so I don't have to yell?"

Come in there, where his clothing consisted of a loosely tied towel—right. "Are you decent?"

"Decent, no." He laughed. "Fine, sexy, ridiculously attractive, yes...but I'm sure you already knew that."

Rolling my eyes, I walked into the bathroom and found him standing in his favorite spot: in front of the mirror. I watched his slow, smooth, clean strokes for awhile as he shaved. He was using one of those old razors that looked like something a slave might have shaved his master with. My daddy had one of those too. I always did like watching him shave.

"So, does she usually call you at this time?" I asked, putting the lid down on the toilet and taking a seat.

He held his razor under the sink for a moment, cleaning the shaving cream from it and shaking it dry, before moving it back to his cheek again. Glancing at me through the mirror, he said, "Yeah it's annoying as hell too. I don't know how she got my number either."

"Do you want me to beat her up for you?" I said, cracking my knuckles.

He glanced at me again with a smile, before taking another smooth stroke of the blade across his cheek. "Would you?" He laughed, rinsing off the blade again.

I didn't realize it until that moment how much his laugh strangely reminded me of my daddy's with the way it sort of rumbled out as if it was coming straight from his belly. I continued to watch him take his last stroke of the blade in silence, before I said, "Nah, she seems like she's more than a little...off balance."

He took his time putting away his things before he turned toward me, leaning against the sink. Crossing his arms, which I think he purposely flexed, he tilted his head slightly to the left, smiled crookedly and said, "Aren't you going to ask me why you're here?"

Oh, he thinks he's so smart. Like I hadn't already wondered that. Like he had managed to distract me from such a basic question. "I just figured you got me drunk and dragged me back to your lair. Or you clubbed me and then dragged me back to your lair." I shrugged, rubbing my head for a moment. "Cause I think either one would explain the throbbing in my head."

"Well, sorry to disappoint you and your cave man fantasies, but it was none of the above. You managed to get yourself drunk all by yourself. I think we were having a drinking contest or something." He said, walking out of the bathroom.

Following him, I said, "So you were drunk too?"

"Yeah. Not as bad off as you were though." He laughed.

Ignoring what the last thing he'd said, my eyes fully scanned the bedroom for the first time. Clothes were scattered here and there. Like they'd been thrown there the night before. My clothes. "Why are my..." I trailed off, pointing to the scattered clothing, before glancing down at myself and realizing I was dressed in one of Justin's over-sized t-shirts and basketball shorts. "And why am I wearing your shit?"

"Because you ripped off yours." he said, like it was perfectly normal for me to rip off my clothes in front of him.

My jaw dropped. "Are you sure?"

He actually laughed at my dismay. "Yeah, pretty sure." he nodded. "And I struggled to get you into what you're wearing now."

Holding my head, my body automatically fell into a sitting position—luckily the bed was underneath me when I landed. "Oh, god. I'm never going to drink again."

"Relax, other than that we just went to sleep."

"Straight to sleep? No detours?"

He smirked.

I frowned. "Are you ever going to get dressed?" I asked, determined to change to subject before he could say anything that would make me regret drinking anymore than I already did.

His smirk grew as he stood confident in his damn near nakedness. Licking his lips real slow, he said, "Does my clothelessness bother you?"

My frown deepened. That sounded like a trick question. "No." I said, less than confidently.

"Good." He said, dropping his towel.

And before I could cover my eyes or turn my head, the towel was already fluttering through the air halfway to the floor and without thinking, I screamed.

He just laughed. "That's not usually the reaction I get when I do that. It's usually more along the lines of 'oh my god, oh my god!' But I like screamers, too." He winked.

My head throbbed harder as I rolled my eyes. He'd been wearing his boxer shorts under the towel that whole time. "Are those 'oh my god's usually followed by 'is that it?!'"

A cocky grin sauntered across his face, as he said, "You tell me." He was reaching for the trim on his boxers like he was going to show me the goods, when Sadie bounded into the room.

Bless that little dog's belly rub loving, attention needy heart.

Sadie bounded in, pushing the door to side so that it was wide open now, her tailing wagging as she ran over to Justin. She’d just finished jumping at him and was about to lay down belly rub-ready, when she happened to turn her head and notice me.

Cutting her greeting to Justin off, she bounded over to me with all her hyper idiot energy.

“Guess she loves her momma more.” Justin said, pouting.

“Whatever and I ain’t her momma.” I said, scratching behind Sadie’s ears just like she liked.

“Shh, don’t say that.” he scolded, cuddling Sadie in his arms. “Momma doesn’t mean that baby.” he cooed down on her as she struggled to be out of his arms, liking the attention but never liking being held. Well except for when she’d come back after being spayed, then you couldn’t get her out of your arms.

While Justin continued to coo and pet Sadie, my eyes could help but to see all the clothes. Clothes I didn’t remember taking off.

“You know this doesn’t change anything, right?”

“Change what?” he asked, glancing up from his crouched down position.

“I know you’re good at it, a little too good at it, but don’t play dumb for a second.”

He smirked, but didn’t say anything, still stroking Sadie.

“So nothing is gonna change, okay.” I said, gathering the clothes on the floor and trying not to notice the rumpled sheets on the large king-sized bed in front of me. “Nothing. I’m still gonna come over and take care of that lil’ bitch.”

Justin frowned at my language, while covering Sadie’s ears. “Momma didn’t mean that baby.”

“That’s what she is.” I retorted, moving toward the door with my things. “And what’s the point in covering her ears if I already said it and you’re gonna try to talk to her?”

He just laughed and shrugged.

Standing in the front of the door, I turned back to him. He was watching. Sitting on the bed now, just in his boxers—watching me.

I watched him for a second, before I got up the nerve to ask, “What even happened last night?”

“Honestly,” he started. “I don’t really know.”

I sighed. “Then how do you know
we
didn’t
y’know?”

“We didn’t what?” he smirked, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

“Shut up, jerk. You know what I’m trying to say.”

“No, I don’t.” He smiled. “Use words, explain.”

“Fine.” I sighed, hesitating again when I looked into his eyes. His deep blue eyes kept steady contact with my dark chocolate eyes. When he was happy they were bright. Mad, they were dark. But today they were glimmering, which made me wonder what the hell was going on in that mind of his. “You don’t know if we
did the deed?”

“What?” he asked, trying to look confused, but failing.

Rolling my eyes, I tried again. “Took a roll in the hay?”

“Huh?”

“Made whoopee?”

“Made what?” he asked, genuinely confused.

Rolling my eyes again, I sighed. “Like you never watched the old Newlywed Game Show.”

“Actually I didn’t.”

“Did we do the bed boogie? Did you put yo’ beef in my taco? Bury the bone? Bush patrol? Dip your wick? Drill for oil? Exchange bodily fluids? Five knuckle shuffle? Do the hanky panky? Hit it? Hop on the good foot and do the bad thing? Horizontal exercises, horizontal hustle, hula, mambo, polka, tango? Do the humpty dance? Knock boots? Lay some pipe? Make it? Do the Mommie-Daddy dance? The nasty? Nookie? Parallel park? Pass the gravy? Play doctor? Pop it in? Screw? Shag? Slap some skin? Do the ugly?” I said, in one breath before talking another.

Cutting me off before I could get my full second breathe he said, “With me, it could never be ugly.”

“I could come up with a few more, but I think you get the point.”

“Yeah, I think you already pretty much went through the alphabet.” He smiled, watching me in silence for a few beats—his eyes still glimmering. "You hungry?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I can't function like a normal person when I'm hungry." He said, walking out of the room and down the hall before I could say anything. "And I don't like to eat alone."

Resisting the urge to say how he never functions like a 'normal' person, I simply followed him with my clothes still in hand and said, "You live alone though." I frowned at him and his logic. Dropping my things down on one of his couches in the TV room, I walked into the kitchen and said, "So what does that mean? You usually don't eat?"

"I usually go out to eat." He said, opening the fridge.

"I see," I said, noticing how it looked like his refrigerator was damn near empty from where I was standing save some beer, Gatorade and milk.

"So what do you have a taste for?" he said, moving to the pantry and pulling boxes down. "Cap'n Crunch or Cheerios?"

"That's not breakfast, that's a snack." I scoffed, helping myself to his fridge. "Okay, you do have some things. Eggs, bacon," I said, pulling the bacon out and noticing the expiration date had come and past nearly a full two months ago. "Okay scratch the bacon, but you do have some fruit. Do you have any kind of meat around here that's not rotting?"

Glancing down at himself, he smirked. "Yeah, but it's nothing I'm willing to part with."

"Are you trying to make me throw up?"

He made a face at me before sliding between me and the opened refrigerator door. "I think I have some sausage in there, somewhere." He said, rummaging through until he found a package with only four measly links.

"Your fridge is stocked worse than a broke ass college student's." I sighed. "But I guess this will have to do."

Grabbing the package of links, I fumbled around through the cabinets and bottom drawers until I found some skillets.

"I didn't know you knew how to cook." He said, gathering silverware and plates in his arms as he moved over toward the table.

"There's a lot you don't know about me." I met his eyes with a smile until I realized, no smile on his face meant—he was about to get all serious on me. So I added, "Give me a toaster and a slice of bread and I can throw down." I laughed.

He didn't. He barely smiled. He was thinking about something. It was a silent fidgety thinking pause that worried me. And that's probably why I asked the dumbest question a woman can ask a man.

"What are you thinking about right now?"

He looked up from where he'd been setting and re-setting the table, but didn't respond right away. He did that a lot—the delayed response thing and it was beginning to annoy the crap out of me. "I was just thinking about how much closer I've felt to you in these last few days and yet you're right—there's still so much I don't know about you."

"I was joking." I said, trying to force out a laugh to lighten the mood.

"Well, I'm not."

He was staring at me now as if I was supposed to just spill out my life story. So instead I turned my back to him and focused on not burning the sausage. Conversation over, right?

"What are your parents like?"


guess again.

I frowned. "I dunno, they're parent-like." I shrugged.

"Still married? Divorced? Strict? Easygoing?" He said, standing to the left of me by the stove now. "What are they like?"

"Still married. My dad's easygoing and my mom's..." I laughed softly, shaking my head. "Well let's just say she's not."

"Okay." He nodded. "What about your brothers and sisters?"

"Three brothers, no sisters."

"Are you the youngest?"

"No." I said, turning the links. "John and Kevin are older than me. Then me, then Charlie."

"And..." he prompted.

"And what?" I frowned at him.

"What are they like?"

"They're typical brothers," I shrugged. "...annoying, pushy, protective."

"I wouldn't know what typical is. I'm an only child."

"Ahh and it all makes sense now." I laughed at his baffled expression, before turning back to the slowly cooking sausage. "The self-centeredness, the independence, the bratty spoiledness. You’re not much of a loner, but I get the feeling that you’re the type that just ups and disappears on a person randomly at times."

Turning to my left, to where he had been standing just a moment ago, I found empty space where his body had been. “Where did...” I said, turning around to find him suddenly close to me on the opposite side. “Shit.” I hissed, holding my chest for a moment as my heart pounded. “Don’t do that!” I cried, hitting him.

A small smile graced his face as he said, “Don’t do what?”

“You’re so evil.”

"So,” He started, moving slowly behind me, close enough that I feel his movement as his body brushed mine. “I know you're only 19, but have you had any big, life changing moments?"

And suddenly it was like I was back on the steps of that random building, crying into my hands, wondering what had made me think I could make it by myself in LA of all places. And then a shadow falls over me, shielding me from the bright warmth of the California sun.

It’s Martin.

With a smile just as big, bright and warm as the sun. A smile that made me trust him with those mesmerizing green eyes of his that looked so friendly, so helpful, so
safe.

"This isn't the kind of conversation you have in boxer shorts." I said, curtly.

"Is that your way of asking me to take them off?"

Rolling my eyes, I pushed the food off the skillet and onto his plate and said, "Just eat and shut up."

*^*^*


We’d been eating in silence for several minutes until she dropped her fork down dramatically and sighed—just staring at me for awhile, leaned back with her arms crossed.

“What?” I said, continuing to shovel food into my mouth.

“I don’t like not knowing what happened.”

Frowning, I slowly chewed my mouth full of food. “I don’t do riddles this early in the morning.”

Her eyes rolled over took the clock that read one-twenty-four in the afternoon. “What happened last night? I need to know.”

Noticing that she looked more agitated that usual, I said, “As far as I can remember we didn’t do anything but go to sleep.”

“As far as you can remember we didn’t.” She said, gathering up my plate before I was finished with it and dropping it off at the sink. “But what if we did?”

My mind not really on what she was saying, but more on what she’d done: tossed away the rest of my damn breakfast. I shrugged. “What if we did? Would it change anything?”

“No.” She said quickly. “Well
yeah. Doesn’t it have to?”

“No, not necessarily.” I said, getting up and moving toward the TV room since she’d successfully gotten rid of my reasons for lingering in the kitchen any longer.

Her sigh followed me, letting me know she was at my back. “I just don’t like the fact that something could have happened last night that I’m not aware of.” she said, sitting down on the couch. “I mean I don’t know what it was like, if I liked it or not.”

I laughed, softly, moving up behind her. “Trust me, if we did. You loved it.” I kissed the back of her neck. “Every hot, sweaty second of it.”

Laughing, she swatted at my loose lips. “Maybe, but even still I’d like to remember the supposed best sixty seconds of my life.”

Hitting her with a nearby pillow, I said, “Shut up, stupid.”

She smiled. “If it makes you feel any better you’re the best sex I never remembered.” She said, but laughing again, this time falling onto her back as I leapt on her, tickling her until she couldn’t breathe.

“Stop, stop it.” She laughed, her eyes squeezed shut. She was laughing so hard that tears squeezed out. “Stop it!”

When the tickle attack did finally cease, she hesitantly opened her eyes, finding me still straddling her. I smiled down on her, watching her as she tried to catch her breath.

“You know, normal breathing would be a lot easier without your fat ass sitting on me.”

Rolling my eyes, I pinched her before moving away. Not far away, mind you. But far enough so she could try to breathe again.

“You’re awfully violent for a prettyboy. I thought y’all were supposed to be the gentle ones. Too concerned with your hair and clothes to do much else.”

Ignoring her comment, I said, “If we did have sex, I’m sorry our first time had to be when we were both out of it.”

She laughed. “First and last time, unless you somehow get me drunk again.”

I glanced at her and smiled softly, reaching toward her and brushing a stray piece of hair out of her face. “You’re beautiful first thing in the morning.” I murmured.

“Yeah, I’m sure hair sticking out at all ends, lines from the pillow on my face, eye crusties, and morning breath is beautiful.” She said, rolling her eyes, her eyes unconsciously looking away from mine.

“Don’t forget the drool.”

Scrunching her nose up in disgust and embarrassment, she sighed. “I drooled?”

“Yeah, a little bit. No biggie though. All part of the Fionna in the morning package.” I smiled, catching her eye for a long moment. A moment so long that I didn’t even notice the fact that we were sitting so close—our bodies nearly pressed together—until I felt her take a hitching breath.

“You better not kiss me, Timberlake.” She said, moving away from me.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to gather my thoughts and figure out what the hell exactly I was thinking about. “Why would I do a dumb thing like that?”

“I dunno, but you got this funny look in your eyes that said ‘warning: dumb things to come.’ And I just wanted to stop you before you turned the funny look into funny actions.”

I tried to smile, tried to say something that would relax the tenseness from her shoulders so that she wouldn’t pull away any further than she’d already done. I didn’t know why, but felt a sudden urge to have her stay.

She watched me, watching her for a few beats before a slow smile crept across her face. “You’re not going to do it to me.”

A frown wrinkled my brow. “Do what?” I asked.

Saying nothing, she rose and headed to the door, gathering her things as she went. I reluctantly followed her to the door, opening it for her.

She was half-way in, half-way out when she turned back to me, her face stoic and said, "Put some pants on, Justin."

Licking my lips, I grinned as I leaned against the door frame toward her. "Why, so you can just snatch them off again?"

Her jaw dropped and her eyebrows shot up, but for some reason her eyes didn’t look as surprised as her face did. "I did that?"

I just laughed and she punched me. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t." I said, scooping her up into a tight hug—so close that my nose was getting buried in her short curls. “Sugar Pie can never hate her Honey Bunch.”

She surprised me then. Instead of saying something sarcastic, she just laughed. Laughed and actually wrapped her arms around my neck without any attempts to hurt me, sighed and said, “Of course. How could I forget?”

*^*^*


As soon as I got back home, the first thing I was greeted with was the sound of giggling.

Janice was strolling around the family room, phone in hand, giggling away. Walking past her, I immediately laid down on the couch with my feet propped up on the coffee table, too lazy to move much further. No sooner than I had closed my eyes, completely relaxed did I feel my feet getting knocked off of the table. Opening my eyes again, I spied Janice sauntered out of the phone, giggling on the phone as she went.

Less than twenty seconds later, she was back, coffee in hand. Shoving the mug into my hand, but still saying nothing and was just about to leave the room again, when I said, “You know I don’t like coffee.”

She stopped mid-step, turned around and gave me one of the hardest look I’d ever seen her give and the next thing I knew I was sipping that putrid brew and she was sauntering out the room, giggling again with the phone attached to her ear.

Ten minutes later and I’d managed to get the mug half-empty, when a phoneless Janice came back.

“So?” she asked, expectantly, plopping down on the couch beside me.

Raising my eyebrows in confusion, I echoed, “So?”

“You aren’t going to give me any details?” Janice said, looking offended. Like I’d wronged her somehow. “I mean, I know I don’t know if this was y’alls first time together or anything, but
”

Groaning, I finally understood what ‘details’ she was trying to get at. “Suddenly, I remember why I never had any girlfriends.” I muttered, getting up to leave. “To avoid conversations like this.”

“We haven’t even talked about it though.”

“And that’s the way I’d like to keep it.” I smiled, heading up the stairs.

“Okay,” she said, standing at the bottom of the staircase now. “But
” I should have known that was coming. “You can’t tell me even the tiniest detail?” she continued, following me up the steps and down the hall to my room.

“I don’t kiss and tell.” I said, walking into my room.

“Rules were meant to be broken.” She grinned, positioning herself in a way to prevent me from closing the door on her like I wanted to.

I sighed, realizing that telling her whatever it was she wanted to hear was probably good for the sake of the deal. But for some reason, I just wanted to curl up into a ball and go straight to sleep. So I compromised.

Leaving the door as it was, wide-open, I crawled into my bed, pulling the comforter over my head, knowing full well that Janice was going to follow me. And sure enough, less than two seconds, the bed was sinking in on the side I’d left open for her and the comforter was being pulled back before she slipped under it with me.

“So, tell me.” She persisted, laying her head on my shoulder. “You come home in clothes so baggy that I can only assume that they’re Justin’s
unless you’ve gotten to the point where you leave extra clothes over at his place. Either way, that means that
”

“It means that I changed clothes.”

“Yes, but why.” When I didn’t immediately respond, she started to whine. “C’mon, girl, tell me something. I thought I was your friend. If it were me, I would tell you.”

Frowning at the desperation that was hedging into her voice, I rolled over so that I was facing her. “How long as it been since you’ve gotten some?”

“What?” she said, clearly taken aback by my bluntness.

“I’m only asking because you seem a little
desperate.”

“I’m not desperate.” She scoffed, flipping back her long blonde hair—as if her blondeness was proof that she couldn’t possibly be desperate. “I’m just
interested. Curious. As any friend would be.”

“Interested, curious
or jealous?” I asked, with a half-smile, watching as she squirmed slightly at the question. Laughing, I said, “Whatever it doesn’t matter. Truthfully, I can’t remember much about last night. But apparently I ripped my clothes off
”

Cutting me off, her jaw dropped before she said, “You did that?”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “Apparently a little alcohol plus Justin, brings out the animal in me.”

When she didn’t say anything and continued to stare at me dreamily as if I was telling her the best fairy tale ever, I added, “His body is just so
” I trailed off, making random ‘mmm’s sounds because I couldn’t find the energy to create a good enough lie or exaggeration. Not to say that the man’s body isn’t as nice as he likes to brag, but he brags enough for himself as it is.

But apparently, less is more at times like these, because Janice was ‘mmm’ing right along with me, with her eyes closed as if she was imagining Justin was here with her, naked and


Shaking off the thought of Justin naked with Janice, I said, “I’ve never felt the way I feel about Justin, about anyone else before.” I didn’t know why I’d felt the need to say that or why the fact that she was still lying with her eyes closed and murmuring softly bothered me, even if it was only slightly. “He just makes me feel good, y’know? Safe, protected
loved.”

Janice had finally opened her eyes now. Her usual bright smile was dimmed, but still ever-present. “So in other words, he’s huge right?”

Groaning, I just pulled the covers over my head.

She just giggled for a while, before sighing. “Okay, you were right. It has been
awhile.” She relented.

“Ya think?” I chuckled. “You practically had an orgasm over five words.”

“I know, I know. It’s sad.” She sighed, rolling onto her back and staring quietly at the ceiling. “So you’re really not going to tell me anything juicy?” she whined.

Knowing I should probably tell her something even if I just made it all up, but feeling strangely protective, I said, “So who was that you were on the phone with before?”

“Oh,” she said, her thin lips instantly curling into a smile. “Just a friend.”

*^*^*


“He shoots and he
”

“Misses a-gain!” Richard laughed, making an easy rebound, before taking a shot from the free-throw line.

I frowned at him as I squinted through the nearly blinding bright sunlight, watching as he released the ball making a perfect shot. My game was off today and of course that would mean, his was sizzling. Every shot sailed through the air from his fingertips and swooshed through the net like he was born to do it.

“I’m just tired.” I sighed, yawning for effect as I wiped my brow. “That’s why you’re beating me right now.”

“Tired, huh?” he smirked, dribbling the ball back and forth through his legs. “So I take it Fionna wore you out last night then?”

Smirking back at him, I stole the ball from him and made a lay-up. “You could say that.” I said, coyly, passing it back to him.

He watched the ball as it smacked the pavement for a few seconds, before he said, “So is she a freak?”

“Man
” I sighed, not really wanting to go there with Richard.

“I mean,” he shrugged as the ball continued to bounce from his pavement to his hand and back again. “She just seems like she’s one of those lady in the streets, freak in the sheets type of chicks.”

I knew this was conversation was working perfectly with the deal, but something about it just didn’t feel right. If it wasn’t Fionna, maybe it wouldn’t feel weird to talk about her like this. ‘Cause it’s not like I was wholly above dishing out every little detail of a lay—but Fionna wasn’t just another lay. And if you want to get all technical about it, she wasn’t a lay at all.

“Man, are you gonna D up, or what?” I said, taking slow easy strides to the hoop. “Or am I gonna have to take it to the hole again? Hmmm, but maybe you’d like that
you could be one of them DL brothers.” I chuckled, going up for a drunk.

Dashing in front of me, he jumped just as I did, his long arms darting up just in time to bitch slap my shot down.

“Rejected!” he laughed, grabbing the ball. “But seriously though, she was actin’ kinda wild last night. And then today you’re sooo tired. All signs point to
”

“You, trying to get all up in my business.” I frowned, stealing the ball from him again.

“You haven’t had any ‘business’ in so long, I’m surprised you’d even know what it was to know if you’d had any.” He chuckled, side swiping the ball from me.

“Man, you know the only reason you’re worried about my ‘business’ is that your business has become so dry, it’s crusty.”

“Speaking of things that are crusty,” he said, faking to the left then to the right before making a net swooshing three-pointer. “Lately you’ve been looking like you’re in need of some lotion.”

Grabbing the ball, I checked it to him and waited for him to pass it back before I said, “And since your bedroom is stocked up with it, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind giving me a bottle.”

“You got jokes, huh?” he said, sucking his teeth. “You really need to lay off the DL jokes, they’re starting to wear thin on my nerves.”

“They’re starting to wear thin on your nerves, huh, grandpa?” I laughed. “Sorry, my bad.” I said, trying to make a three of my own, only it didn’t quite work out—I think the wind was against me that time.

Suddenly Barry Manilow’s “Mandy” began playing, causing Richard to jog over to his gym bag and pull out his cell.

“Keep it down low, nobody has to know.” I sang with a grin.

He flipped me off and finished his call a few minutes later.

“So who was that?”

Richard just smiled, closed his phone and said, “Just a friend.”


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