Our Muted Recklessness - Love Belvin Page 0,96

I’m in the middle of celebrating it.”

“Oh!” I couldn’t believe I forgot. “I have a gift for you.”

“Later.” He took another sip. “Tell me more about these new revelations happening in your head.”

I shrugged shyly while moving around the kitchen. Still, I felt woozy, but could fight through it. Taking a sip of the wine seemed like a good idea until I did it. It was sour, tasting like lemon juice flavored with a smidge of apples and grapes. I wouldn’t complain, though. I decided I’d finish the glass and wouldn’t have more. There was no way I’d ruin this moment.

“Well, the only famous person I know is Alton Alston. He’s such an asshole, I hear. My cousin’s cousin went to high school with him and lived right around the corner from him, too. He said before Alton got drafted, he got a high school senior pregnant and left her high and dry. He never visits Millville. Ever.” I couldn’t stop talking if I wanted to. “He came home for a visit like three years ago, though, but that was to get the key the mayor gave to the city. He had the nerve to bring Stenton Rogers. We think he did it to show off his new status. But in the end, we were grateful to have a real star in our town. StentRo is the real star of that team anyway. Alton can play, but he’s an ass.”

“StentRo has a past, too.”

I gasped. “You know him?”

Again, Ashton chuckled lazily, looking like a grown-ass man. I shouldn’t have been so attracted to him, but I couldn’t help it. He was damn fine.

“Not really. He’s from my hometown. I’ve seen him around lots. He rides for Brick City.” His smile could start a fire between my legs—but I couldn’t focus on that!

Ashton didn’t want me in that way.

“You didn’t answer if you knew him, though.” I squinted my eyes his way, not believing him.

More chuckling from him before he pushed up from the counter and ambled into the living room. “I don’t have his number, if that’s what you mean. I’m sure A.D. Jones does. Positive my old coaches from Ellis Academy do, too. He’s a Newark nigga.” Ashton found a couple of remotes and tested them out. The radio. That’s what he was looking for because when that played, he found an old school R&B station and adjusted the volume to a low level that we could still hear. Then he came back to the counter. “My point was, Stenton Rogers was like the biggest bad boy in the league at the time; arrests, leaked nude pictures, heavy ass drinking, and partying.”

“But I’d never heard he was a terrible human like Alton. StentRo’s from your ‘other’ hometown and you can be proud of him. Alton’s from mine and he’s shitty. Anyway…” I let out a breath while dicing up the green pepper. “I’m not going to be like that when I make it. I won’t be nasty and I won’t forget about Millville. Maybe I’ll be like you: think I’m from two different places and give back to Millville and New Brunswick.” I shrugged.

Ashton nodded before going for his drink again. He looked stupidly adorable.

“My mom once met Diddy at one of the casinos. She’s met a lot of people over there in Atlantic City. That happens when you work down there. Well, at the right casinos. The boring ones have nobody.” I rolled my eyes, sautéing the vegetables with minced garlic. “My Margaret Maureen used to work at the Golden Nugget back in the ‘90s. That’s when she was a housekeeper. She met Mike Tyson lots. Said he kept a disgusting room. He stayed there a lot. She met Whitney Houston, too. That’s when A.C. was big. I remember when everybody wanted a job…” I talked and talked, chatting more than I was used to.

I talked about my grandmother’s retirement party when she left the casinos and her birthday parties at the jobs she took after because she didn’t fully retire. I talked about my last street fight with Paul’s daughters—without mentioning Paul—and how Renata was going into the army, all while Ashton sat and listened, not even going beyond his first drink. Mine took forever to finish, but I did mid-way frying chicken. I stewed the spaghetti sauce through Keyshia Cole’s “Love,” which I didn’t find “old school,” and fried chicken through SWV’s “You’re the One.”

When it was all done almost an hour and a half later,

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