He shrugs. “Acting. I wasn’t into it. She was nice about it, though. Left right after I rocked her world. Didn’t even care that I couldn’t come.”
“Poor you.”
“You’re telling me. I always come.” He frowns, as if this genuinely bothers him.
“Is it because I walked in?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I was having a hard time keeping it up before that. I’ve been occupied lately, I guess. I don’t know why.” He looks at me intently, shakes his head, and then sighs. “Anyway, when can I eat?” His expression becomes shy, as if admitting that was out of character for him.
“Now. Go sit down. I’ll bring it to you.”
“Thanks, wing-woman.” He pats my shoulder softly and then joins James at the kitchen table.
What is occupying him? It must be significant if it’s affecting his sex life. I shake the thought away. It’s none of my concern that Kent can’t perform. Maybe he used it too much. I snicker to myself as I make three plates. James and Kent dig in without preamble. I sit across from them, watching how they shovel food into their mouths.
James looks up, sensing my gaze. “Thank you.”
I smile shyly at him. “You’re welcome. What’s the sign for thank you?” I ask.
James sets his fork down and touches his hand flat to his lips, then extends it toward me. “Thank you.”
I mirror his actions, earning a wide, gorgeous smile from him. “What about ‘you’re welcome’?”
“There isn’t really one,” Kent speaks up. “Thank you works for both. How come you talk to her?”
James shrugs, giving him a look that clearly says: I’m not going to talk about that in front of her.
“You’re always so pissy.” Kent rolls his eyes at him. “We need to get you laid. When’s the last time you had any ass?”
James signs something rude. At least it looks rude to me.
Kent laughs. “I know you don’t need my help getting laid. Girls love that depressed quiet thing you got going on. They eat that shit up. Maybe I should start being depressed again. That’s what started this whole debacle. I was getting so much ass because I was depressed, and now I want the ones who don’t want me, but then they all eventually want me. What’s a man to do?”
I simply eat my food. Kent is such a jerk.
“You think I’m still depressed? It’s been a year. I think I’m over the brutal backstabbing betrayal.” Kent laughs uncomfortably. “Because that’s something you just get over. Shut up, James. It was a joke. You never appreciate my sense of humor.”
He doesn’t exude depression. Unless, of course, the women, partying, and alcohol are his way of dealing with it. I understand his need to escape into something. But why take his depression and anger out on a different woman every night? It puts him at risk for STDs, not to mention the women. He can’t be the only one they’re with. Using another human being starts to add up when you do it every night. I picture the look of disgust on his face when he woke up next to Auburn Hair. He aimed that look at her, but it could’ve easily been aimed inwards.
“Anyway,” Kent grumbles. “Thanks for the talk. Now let’s discuss what we’re doing tonight.”
I sense Kent looking expectantly at me. “I have to work,” I remind him.
“Can I come hang out there?”
When was the last time Kent was by himself? Since I’ve moved in he’s had two girls, a party, and then his friends at Oblivion. The last time he was alone was when he showered. Although I can imagine what he fantasizes about. He’s probably never truly alone.
“As long as you promise not to hook up with anyone else I work with.”
“How’s the apartment hunting going?”
Right. Wing-woman. “Fine. You can come hang out. But I need a key.”
“I’ll make you one. As soon as I get your rent money I’ll fix the A/C.”
I hold up a finger and grab my purse from my room. When I return to the table I set it down and push it to him. “Count my tips. I’ll write you a check for the rest.”
He sucks some ketchup off on his thumb and then begins sifting through the contents to pull out a thick wad of cash. The higher he counts, the deeper my surprise. There’s even a one hundred dollar bill in the pot.