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“That’s great,” he said earnestly. “I wish I could say the same thing about my father. He seems to be slipping away more every day.”
“Oh, Kyzer, I am sorry. That must be tough.”
“My stepmother has moved him to a facility in Atlanta. She had to assume the responsibility of managing the operations at the research and development facility he opened there a few years back. She wanted him close. They have a condo there, but he’s at the point where he needs around-the-clock care.”
I really felt for him. He had lost his mother at such a young age and now his dad who wasn’t all that old. He had told me before he was an only child.
“If there is anything I can do, Kyzer, please let me know?”
I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. I knew Taz would be shaking his head and bitching at me if he knew I had said that.
Still, Kyzer had never been anything but kind and caring, where I was concerned. Taz was only passing judgment based on his instincts or so he said. I still thought it was a ‘male’ thing.
“Thanks Lindsey, having someone to talk to helps more than you know. I guess I just need someone to listen.”
Listening wasn’t dangerous. Listening wasn’t too much for him to ask. I could do listening.
“Anytime,” I replied. “Whenever you need to talk about this, call me. I’m here.”
“Thank you, Lindsey. Good luck with your assignment. Let me know when you want to do another study together.”
“Will do, Kyzer.”
We signed off and I finished the unit assignment and uploaded it to the website.
I was lying across my bed taking a breather. I heard my phone beep next to me. I picked it up seeing I had a text message. It was from Taz. I smiled.
‘R u still studying with Poindexter?’
I immediately texted him back I had finished and was considering taking a short ‘power nap.’
‘I have a better idea.’ He responded in his next text.
‘Do tell?’ I responded.
For the next twenty minutes Taz and I had some steamy “sexting” going on. I was amazed at the sweet little orgasm it generated. Now I really did need a nap.
CHAPTER 34
(Taz)
Slate and I were on our way to Baltimore just a little after 6:00 a.m. Tuesday morning. Both of our asses seemed to be dragging for similar reasons.
We discussed our schedule for the day. We were both picking up separate vehicles in Columbia less than an hour south of Baltimore.
As usual, I got to drive the old beater, while Slate was posing as a rich, big-shot who wanted in on a sweet deal that Hatfield had been working on with his longshoreman buddies on the dock.
I was picking up Dee Dee in Columbia, she came with the beater.
“Looks like you’re already dressed for the part, Taz,” Slate said, eyeing my tattered plaid flannel work shirt. I had put on a pair of worn out, mustard yellow Carhart work pants. The knees were nearly worn clear through.
“Don’t worry,” I said, “I’ve got more clothing like this packed away in my duffel. If Dee Dee and I are going to be bar hopping around the docks the next couple of nights, I’ve got to look the part.”
Slate smiled, shaking his head.
“I think the clothing is a tactical move on your part to keep Dirty Diana off your nuts.”
“You know, Slate, one of these days somebody is going to slip and call Dee Dee that to her face and she is not going to appreciate it.”
