My teeth gnawing on the inside of my cheek fails to hide the growl that emits from my lips when Ava turns to Jorgie and says, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
The gleam in Jorgie's eyes is doused as she nods her head. I can't hear what Ava whispers in Jorgie's ear when she bids her farewell, but a vast grin stretches across Jorgie's face, and her hearty chuckle sounds through the quiet night. Her laughter becomes even more boisterous when she pulls away from Ava and runs her index finger under her nose.Weirdos.
After a quick smirk, Ava dashes to the awaiting taxi. I clench my fists at my side when a victorious grin stretches across Marvin’s face. He waits until Ava's cab is nothing but a blur of taillights in the distance before entering his taxi, ensuring Ava leaves as instructed. I grit my teeth, internally battling not to raise my middle finger into the air over the pompous smirk etched on his face.
The instant Marvin’s taxi exits Jorgie’s street, I turn to face her. “Why is Ava dating Pencil Dick?”
Jorgie doesn’t balk at my statement, indicating she is aware of Marvin’s nickname and why he has it.
“Your guess would be as good as mine,” she huffs, throwing her arms up in the air.
She plops into the empty wicker chair on her patio. "You know Ava, Hugo; she craves security. Dick Weed can give her that."
I stifle a chuckle. "Dick Weed?" I ask with my brow arched.
She smiles and nods her head. "Our grade called Marvin ‘Dick Weed,’” she informs me. "You know, because his dick is like a weed in a garden, all wilted and shriveled up."
No longer able to hold in my laughter, my loud, hearty chuckle echoes through the quiet night. My laughter is so thunderous, it startles Ms. Mable next door. She flicks on her security light, blinding both Jorgie and me since its bright rays are pointing at Jorgie's patio.
"It's just Hugo," Jorgie shouts to ensure Ms. Mable can hear her since she is half-deaf.
My lips curve into a grin when Ms. Mable shrieks back, “Okay, dear.”
Once the bright light is switched off, I turn my eyes back to Jorgie. An array of dancing lights obscure my vision for the next several seconds, but they don't hinder my sight long enough to miss the yawn Jorgie tries to suppress.
“Aren’t you sleeping?” I ask.
Her face grimaces. “You know I can’t sleep when Hawke is over there,” she mumbles.
I nod my head. Hawke joined the military two months before he and Jorgie officially became a couple. He has often stated if he knew Jorgie was going to come into his life, he would’ve never enlisted. It’s taken a bit of adjustment for Jorgie to get used to being a military wife, but she is handling it better than any of us expected.
“Only two more months and you’ll be begging for me to get him out of your hair,” I jest.
My heart warms when her little giggle sounds through my ears. “I can’t wait for that day,” she murmurs under her breath.
I noogie her head, because I know how much she hates it. "I'll drop by tomorrow afternoon after my meeting and put a few more hours intobaby.”
Her eyes spark as a broad grin stretches across her face, making her appear like a kid waking up Christmas morning.
“But until Hawke givesbabythe all clear, you can’t drive her.”
Her bottom lip drops into a pout. “Party pooper.”
After a final noogie on her head, I make my way to my truck. Once Jorgie is inside and the front door is dead-bolted, I pull my truck away from the curb. A grin curves on my lips when I spot the silhouette of Ms. Mable standing behind the sheer curtain in her living room. I lift my chin in greeting and smile, silently relaying my thanks for the vigilant eye she keeps on Jorgie.
Rochdale is a large, hard-working lower- to middle-class community, but it is, and will always be my hometown.
Five
Ava
I switch off the water in the shower and crank my head to the side. My ears are pricked, straining to work out where the banging noise echoing through my master bathroom is coming from. This is the only downfall about living in an apartment building. More times than I can count, I swear I hear people knocking on my front door. Only after begrudgingly scampering to my entranceway do I realize the knocks were for my neighbors; or a handful of times, they’ve been for the apartment at the end of the hall.
My debate between continuing to shave my legs or go in search of what the banging noise is ramps up when a deep rumble of a male voice closely follows three rigid taps of what I’m assuming are knuckles on a wooden door. My breathing becomes difficult when my strained ears recognize the rugged drawl of the masculine voice. Now, there is no doubt in my mind that the bangs bellowing through my apartment is someone knocking, or should I say, banging down my door.
I twist a towel around my drenched locks and secure another one around my body before ambling to the door. My heart thrashes wildly against my ribs, panicked at what has caused this impromptu visitor to arrive at my apartment at eleven PM on a Saturday night.
After ensuring the towel is adequately covering my private parts, I swing open the front door. My breath hitches when the delightful view of Hugo in a pair of low-hanging jeans and a short-sleeve fitted shirt swamps my vision. My brows furrow when the gleam in his eyes alters to the same unrecognized spark he had earlier tonight.
