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“Not this motherfucker growing mushy on me. I never thought I’d see the fucking day.”
Trent was no stranger. He’d been my partner since we were kids. That same pain I felt all those years ago, he did too. He walked in to find his entire family slumped. They died of carbon monoxide poisoning. None of them even saw it coming. Hadn’t he been at a friend’s house, he would’ve been a casualty, too.
“Well, you seeing that bitch today. Don’t act like you ain’t a simp when it comes to Ava, nigga.”
“I’m whatever I need to be to keep her happy. That’s my whole chest right there. Fuck a heart.”
“See, I never aspired to be like you niggas, all in love and shit. Mommas got me thinking differently, though. Why the fuck I be up, late night, playing different scenarios in my head and shit, all involving her healthy relationship, no profanity using, sleepy, clingy, addictive ass? Like I’m a fucking mental patient or something.” I chuckled, not believing who I was becoming.
“Because you are a mental patient.”
“Fuck you, dog. Real shit.”
“Nah. I’m happy for you, bro. And she’s a good girl? Them my favorite kind. They take their asses to work and come straight to the house. They might watch a few shows, read hella books, and sleep as often as they can.”
“Always tired as fuck.”
“Exactly. I love a sleepyhead.”
“She be knocked the fuck out. I just be up, bored as fuck, waiting on her to open her eyes.”
“Making unnecessary noise and shit, hoping it wakes her ass up!” Trent cackled.
I slapped the hand he held in the air. “Exactly, nigga. Like, wake yo’ ass up, girl. I’m losing my shit, sitting here, waiting.”
“Yeah, man, them the ones. I hate to say it but prepare to be bat shit about her. They’re worth it.”
“Already, Trent. Already. A week with her felt like a year. I’ve been having withdrawals all week. Keeping her ass in the doghouse been hitting me hard as hell.”
“Doghouse? For what?”
“She broke up with some nigga a few months ago, when I bumped into her. I gave her three months to get that nigga out of her system. When I pulled up on her, I asked her if she was done crying over the nigga. She told me she was. We spend damn near a week in paradise, and as soon as we get back, I take a piss in her bathroom and the nigga shit still laying around.”
“You think she dipping back?”
“Nah. I don’t. I know she ain’t. But it’s the principle. Imagine me inviting her to my crib and my ex shit just laying around casually.”
“She gon’ trip.”
“Exactly and she ain’t even the type to trip. But that shit would make her trip with a nigga.”
“Block you on everything for a week or two.”
“I’m already knowing how it goes. Wouldn’t answer calls or open the door. The difference is, I’m knocking that bitch down. I’m not knocking on it, giving her a chance to not answer for me.”
“So, you sliding through, although she’s in trouble right now.”
“Yeah. Fuck it. I can’t take that shit no more. I’m going to get her and bring her ass with me. I need some sleep.”
“Say less. Go handle your business. You got me ready to cut out, too.”
His shop was across the street from mine. Because mine was nothing more than a front and a place to wash some of the money that touched my hands, I found myself across the street more often than not. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sold a tire, but according to my records, I sold a few sets of rims daily.
“Sounds like the plan to me.”
We slapped hands, snapping as we extended our pointer fingers.
“One.”
