“We got a problem?” he asked as he held that man up by the back of his shirt like a school bully. I was sure Ramsey was at least a little bit excited to finally be able to see over the doorknobs in the room for once.
“Wha—Naw, naw man! Ain’t no problem! We were just talking, and I was about to go! Ain’t no problem at all!”
“Apologize,” he snarled.
“Aye, Amaya, I-I-I’m s-s-sorry,” he pleaded, looking at me with big eyes.
“You accept that?” Chase asked, looking down at me. I started to fuck with him, but I let it go, giving a small nod, wiping my knife off, and putting it back in my purse like a lady. Chase lowered him back down to his normal hobbit height and he scampered away as quick as he could.
“Did you just stab that nigga?!” he asked once we were out of earshot of any other partygoers.
“I sliced him. It was just a flesh wound!” I said with my hands up defensively.
“You are fuckin’ certifiable. Crazy ass,” he chuckled. He wasso fuckingfine when he laughed, and the fact that he had justhemmed a nigga up in my honor for the second time had me all warm inside.
“I never would have had to if you would have intervened! You saw me send you the signal to kill that shit, and you walked off!”
“Nah, sorry. That sounds like a job for a homie. You made it crystal clear that that’s not what we are.” He shrugged, and I mugged the hell out of him because he was playing in my face.
“Whatever!” I rolled my eyes.
“Speaking of friends, why are you by yourself? Ain’t you here with Jocelyn?”
“Yeah, but she’s actually been duckin’ and dodgin’ me all night. First, it was a call, then the bathroom, then she went to get a drink, and I haven’t seen her ass since!” I rolled my eyes.
“You keep rollin’ them eyes, they gon’ get stuck like that!” he said with a laugh. I rolled them again. That was when I realized that I had more fun standing there arguing with him than I had talking to any of the other niggas I had entertained that night.
“Fine, since you insist on blocking me, and Joceclearlyditched my ass, humor me. What you got in mind… homie?”
He paused, looking me up and down for a second. I was just about to open my mouth to cuss him out when he spoke again.
“You play pool?” he asked.
“Only if you’re not a sore loser,” I answered and shrugged. He ushered us to a part of the house with a whole gaming set up—darts, a pool table, foosball, and air hockey. He racked the balls as I grabbed us two sticks off the wall.
“Yousureyou know how to play?” he teased as he took his stick from me. All I could do was smile in reply—he hadnoidea.
A little while later, I had beat the brakes off that nigga in 8-ball five times straight. We had a friendly wager going, every time one of us scored, the other had to share a secret. I was getting all his tea and he only got a few tidbits of information out of me.
I beat his ass for Monica—after Quincy dunked on her silly ass in the name of love.
For Leslie—because why the fuck would Scott McKnight spin the block on her after double dipping in her cousin?
And for every other woman who ever had a man try to play in her face.
I almost let him have one game, but then I pictured him, standing in the driveway of his childhood home, looking goofy as fuck saying “Double or nothin’.” That prompted me to beat thefuckout of him again, no holds barred.
If he would have asked before he started shit-talking, I would have told him that my Uncle B used to sneak me and Mona out to his pool tournaments, telling my aunt Nelly that we were going to book signings and concerts. Mona and I both got so good we were hustling grown ass men out of their whole mortgage payments before we graduated high school.
“I think I’m done,” he said, giving me the nastiest of glares.
“Aww,” I teased. “You mad?”
“Fuck you, Toni,” he spat with his arms crossed.
“So you gon’ be a sore loser?”
“Wholikeslosing?”
