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“Now that you mention it…” he trailed, pretending to give my question some real thought until I smacked him in the arm and squealed, “Eww!” But of course, that only made him laugh harder as he pulled into the Whataburger drive-thru, the whole thing feeling extremely reminiscent of our high school days once he ordered himself some monstrosity of a burger and somehow knew what combo I wanted too.
Like, exactly the way I always got it, down to the sweet tea with light ice that made it hard for me not to smile when I asked, “Why on God’s green earth do you remember my order, Lance?”
“Some things you just don’t forget, Yani,” he insisted with a grin of his own, lowkey giving me butterflies as he pulled up to the first window to pay for the food and was almost immediately recognized by the workers.
Which was cool.
But also kind of weird, especially once they all started trying to get selfies with him -and me by default- in the background. And since the word had apparently spread through the kitchen, he received the same rockstar treatment when we pulled up to the second window to retrieve the food, the manager being the one to hand it and our drinks over before wishing Lance good luck with the season.
Honestly, the way they were excited to see their “Hawk” was the same way I was excited to crack open the bag and get to the fries, stuffing a few in my mouth as Lance whined, “Come on, man. No eating in the Porsche.”
“Seriously?” I asked, turning towards the window to sneak another small handful of fries that made Lance take the bag hostage. But thankfully, I’d already gotten enough to hold me over for the ride back home.
At least, I thought I was going home until Lance drove right past my father’s house without a care in the world, the move making me frown when I asked, “Wait. Where are we going?”
When he didn’t answer right away, I instantly grew more annoyed as I groaned, “Should’ve known you were gonna be on some bullshit.”
“Yo, will you chill?” Lance asked amusedly, finally pulling into the driveway of a house I didn’t recognize. But once he used some special remote to open a gate, everything started making more sense; though I still couldn’t help rolling my eyes as I acknowledged, “The semi-obnoxious house on the otherwise ordinary block. How fitting.”
“Just come inside,” Lance demanded after he’d pulled in towards the back of the house, once again leaving before I’d actually agreed to anything. And only because he’d taken the food with him did I decide to not sit my ass in the car, trying my best not to overreact when I stepped into his mini mansion and was immediately blown away by how nice it was.
Because of course Lance was winning at all things.
Since the back entrance pretty much led straight into the kitchen, I didn’t have to travel far to find the homeowner who was already standing at the island emptying the fast-food bags as he asked, “You need somethin’ a lil’ stronger than that sweet tea or you good?”
“Do Ineedsomething?No. But do Iwantsomething?”
Recognizing what I was hinting at, he gave a nod when he said, “Let me see what’s in this lil’ goodie basket my agent sent over earlier.”
“Gotta love when the free, expensive shit is specially delivered to the people who can afford it,” I teased, making myself comfortable on one of the bar stools as Lance responded, “Nah, I can almost guarantee that I paid for everything in this mothafucka one way or another.”
Since I didn’t actually know the ins and outs of how any of that worked, I stayed quiet as I watched Lance pull out a bottle of champagne that I could tellsomeonehad paid a pretty penny for. And I had to laugh when, instead of having flutes for us to drink from, he went into the cabinet to grab two red Solo cups, proudly popping the cork before he poured himself a glass and then did the same for me.
Once I lifted it to my lips, I paused when I realized, “Wait. Aren’t we supposed to like, toast with this or something?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” Lance insisted as he settled in on the bar stool next to mine, his open-legged posture dominating the shared space in a way that was…distracting.
I mean, therehadto be a reason he was sitting like that. And I was tempted to take a glance to see what I could see until I realized he’d put me on the spot about being the one to actually give the toast.
“Oh. Umm… I guess this is to you. And your new contract.”
“And to you, for finally coming back to where you belong,” he added with a smirk, clinking his glass with mine before lifting it to his lips for a short sip. And even though I knew that was the whole point of this, his words had me struggling to do the same, mainly because they’d smacked me with the reality of why I was actually here.
I’d argued that it was none of his business. But for whatever reason, it seemed like the perfect time to finally share the truth when I blurted, “I crapped out, Lance.”
“What?”
“I took some gambles, and I crapped out,” I told him, unwrapping my burger and taking a quick bite before I continued, “That’s why I’m back in Houston.”
Of course, because I’d been relatively vague, Lance got all extra concerned when he asked, “What kinda gambles, Yani?”
“Well first, I took a year-long unpaid internship with Nike and used literally all of my savings to stay afloat only to not get offered a job in the end.Then, I moved back to Eugene thinking I’d be able to find a job there to at least hold me over until I could land something more permanent. But at that point, I couldn’t exactly afford housing, so I moved in with a friend who kicked me out when she thought I was sleeping with her dusty ass boyfriend.”
Of all the things I’d been through, that last part probably pissed me off the most, his ugly ass, lying ass face still ingrained in my mind as I took an aggressive bite of my burger while Lance took a break from his to comment, “Since you called him dusty, I’ma assume that wasn’t true.”
Shaking my head, I swallowed my bite and confirmed, “It wasn’t. But the truth didn’t matter. She believed him over me. And because of that, coming back home to live with my father and his glorified mistress was my only option.”
Truthfully, I probably could’ve avoided returning home for a few days by using my emergency credit card to stay in a hotel. But since that wouldn’t have been long enough to change the outcome, I didn’t even bother wasting the money. And now, here I was, telling my sad ass story to the one person who somehow managed to make the entire thing sadder when he inquired, “Why not your mother?”
