predict. I’m more drawn to females who are independent thinkers and go-getters. NormaJean ain’t a renowned, bimbo porn star. She’s a millionaire entrepreneur with investment deals and resources out the ass.”
He shook his head, blowing out smoke. “What college ass words can you pull out your ass for your bougie Texas chic?”
I turned to him. “Now what do you mean?”
“What I mean, nigga, is you ain’t fucked up out here with these chicks like me. You smart, Ash. Word up! You could bag a dime without trying. A good bitch that’ll be loyal to you and have your babies. Fuck you right, and stay home and out the streets. Shit, with yo bread, she ain’t gone want for nothing.” He laughed. “That’s what you got in Miss Pageant girl. But that ain’t ya speed. You half street, half intellect. You’s a hybrid nigga that need a woman that’s gonna give your complicated ass more than poise and posture. Ya lady gotta give you fuckin…” He snapped his fingers successively, really trying to search for the word this time. “What’s that word… Passion! That’s it, it’s passion. You need a chick that make you work for the pussy through her mind, not her pedigree.” His head bounced with confidence as he took another pull.
I scratched my head. “That’s what you think?”
“My nigga…” He exhaled the smoke. “It’s what I know. You ain’t a predictable cat, so the shortie that’s really for you ain’t gone be what Aunt Wanda or your grams think is best for you. Don’t get so wrapped up in this chick because they scared yo ass when they found out about NormaJean. Fuck that, my nigga. Do you.”
I wanted to laugh at his attempt at a poetic conversation about love. “What if Aivery is that one for me?”
He rolled his eyes, hand slapping his head. “Yeah. Ya stubborn ass gone make me suit up just to prove to ya moms and grams you what they think you is. You’s gonna cave, but it’s all good. I’mma be right there to marry you off and then right there again to catch you when that shit don’t work out. I’mma stay down.”
Then, I woke up. My eyes roved across the room to motionless furniture. That was until they landed at the door. There he was with a black wife beater on, sagging fitted jeans, and a pair of Timbs. His hair was freshly cut, and Brick had an unsmoked Newport tucked behind his ear. His skinny ass was in the doorjamb, laughing while pumping his fist for me. Brick was cheering me on, and was sure to keep quiet so he wouldn’t awaken Tori. He pounded his chest a few times before kissing his fist and raising it in the air. And then he left, bopping down the hallway.
I was too fucking shook to get up and follow him. It felt too real, and if it were real, he’d come back. I’d have another opportunity to tell him what his death meant to me, and to ask him what led to his passing. My whole fucking body trembled so bad, Tori, still lost in slumber, shifted out of my hold. That was the last thing I needed. Shit. If she wasn’t there when he came, I may have lost my shit. After taking a deep breath, trying to calm myself, I scooted closer to her. Needless to say, I wasn’t able to sleep after that. So I eventually got up and went for my normal run.
Aivery’s high-pitched laughter snapped me out of my reverie. She was still chatting it up with her folks on the cell. We’d just come from in town where I’d taken her out for her birthday. The problem was, it was supposed to be when I finally ended the charade Aivery had been insisting we put on for the campus. I couldn’t do it any longer. But when we arrived at the restaurant, I felt bad for doing it in public and decided to wait until the ride back to campus. Well, that was until the Coopers called wishing her a happy birthday, something that could easily take an hour or more.
Having her speak with them only prolonged the tightness in my damn belly. I was doing this shit today. Tomorrow was my birthday—and how fucked up that fact was seeing yesterday’s was Tori’s—and I couldn’t let the shit linger into that. My knuckles flexed over the steering wheel from the angst of it all. Shit