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“He will,” I assured Makai.
“When? Shit.”
“You know when.” I chuckled.
“When Jungle calls?”
“Fuck you,” Milo spat, smiling at what we all knew had come to mind. “Her name is Nature, nigga.”
“It’s time to give that up, playa. She sucking pussy now, been for like a lot of fucking years, too. Scared the poor girl into licking the rug.”
“She’s not gay. She’s heartbroken. There’s a difference.”
“Man, I believed you the first two years. Ion believe you no more.”
“She’s not,” I agreed with Milo.
“Exactly.”
“And stop worrying about my woman and find one that is actually available.”
“They available when I need them to be. Can you say the same about Safari?”
“I hate this nigga, man.” Milo chuckled, yelling over the music.
“Don’t pay this nigga no mind. The fuck he been drinking?”
“I’m just saying. You must’ve really fucked her over and it’s more than that career-over-relationship bullshit you’ve been feeding us all this time. You ain’t changed your number in eight years and she still ain’t called that motherfucker.”
“Somebody give this nigga a blunt or something to stuff his mouth with. She has called to check on a nigga and she makes sure she sends me a birthday text every year.That’swhy the fuck I ain’t changed my number.”
“Okay. Okay. Rain Forest not too bad, then. She ain’t leave a nigga for dead completely.”
“Fuck him, man. That’s your boy, not mine,” Milo scoffed, leaving Makai and me alone.
“It’s his birthday, Kai. Stop reminding him of that shit every time a new one approaches.”
“I’m just helping him realize we’re getting old and he needs to go get his bit—go get his girl back.”
“He will when he’s ready. Until then, chill.”
“Aight, man.”
“MILO,” I called out to him, stepping around the bodies that littered the section.
There were a few unfamiliar faces, mostly colleagues and associates of Milo’s. Aside from the family and friends we grew up with, he had a posse of professionals that loved his dirty drawers. From the minute he walked across the stage in his gold grill and fitted cap, the profession had embraced his individuality and intellectual capacity. Milo was the definition of multi-dimensional. Seamlessly, he existed in our world and theirs too.
When within reach, I handed over the box in my hand. With a nod, he smiled and accepted it. When he pushed the top half back, his eyes glistened from the diamonds dancing in the dark.
“Yes, sir,” he cheered. “Yes, SIR.”
Before removing the watch, he brought me in for a tight hug. He was the most affectionate of the group, never afraid to show how deep his love for his family ran, whether in privacy or in public spaces.
“One love, bro.”
“One love.”
His wrist partially glowed in the dark. He twirled it from side to side once his watch was secured. He pushed a few bracelets back to make room, only realizing then that he’d left his other timepiece at home. It didn’t matter. His wrist was lit and there would be other days he would remember it. Tonight, we weren’t sweating the small shit.
