It’s the right thing to do.
Divorce is hard on any kid.
Even ones who are twenty-one, now.
And how’d she get hurt? Some guy break her heart? Give me his number and I’ll mess him up.
How is she dating guys her age, anyway, and not puking? Most are the product of a generation who essentially taught them that being an emotional wimp was hot.
What I think is hysterical is that women didn’t really mean it. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. They meant it enough to embed it into every son’s psyche they could, after they’d gotten hurt by men.
Be in touch with your feelings!
Tell your Mom everything!
It’s okay to cry!
The things some ladies taught their sons they wouldn’t want in their husbands. They didn’t think ahead. And this generation of women are paying for it.
Sure, it’s okay to cry when something tragic happens. But men feel better when we’re stronger and know that whatever life throws our way, we can take it and protect ourselves and the ones we love.
If we can trust ourselves and know that we’re not going to break like a dead stick under someone’s boot, we walk straighter. That’s just a fact. Because it’s also a damn fact that the world is full of people who will walk on you if you let them.
There’s something honest and right about standing up to life. We all go through rough times. Men feel best when we aren’t afraid of those bumps.
I couldn’t turn Marion down when she called. How could I? Please help me will make me come running faster than I don’t need you, any day. I’m needed, and I can handle the job.
Sign.
Me.
Up.
I’ll work for free.
Holy shit, she answered my text.
Things just got worse, Jack. I need you. Please hurry.
Time to break a few speeding laws.
MARION
T eeka gulps water like someone released her from a fishing net. Gasping for air, she locks eyes with me. “I’m sorry, Mar.”
“No, you’re not. Of course you’re not. You are fully aware that stuff is poison. And expensive!”
“What stuff?” she laughs, pointing at my silk pajama shorts and braless tank. “Your Dad’s best friend is coming and you’re wearing this? Are you about to get laid?”
I wish. “When are you packing?”
Teeka fixes her lipstick in the reflection of our microwave, glancing over with an amused smile because my answer wasn’t ‘no.’ She shuts the lipstick tube with a pop. “If he wants to take on the two of us, I’m down. My habit isn’t cheap.” At my horrified expression, she cries out, “I’m kidding!”
“Are you?” I hobble to the couch and drop down with zero grace, odd since it’s ingrained in me. This damn cast is so freaking heavy. They gave me the new one for athletes that’s in trial. Adjusting my shorts, I call out to the kitchen, “Are you going to give me another month to find someone new, or what?”
Trouble is, I paid the deposit. She moved in with me and has no reason to stick around, except friendship. Which means she’s outta here.
“Did you say something?” Teeka asks while walking in, rummaging through her glittery bag and producing a victorious bag of illegal powder. Running over to show me she cries out, “Aha! I knew he was up to something. Donny was hovering over me before I left the party. He had this funny look in his eyes and I asked him what he was up to. Look at what a doll he is!”
I dryly reply, “A real angel.”
“You want some?”
“Because that would solve all my problems.”
“They’d feel solved,” she laughs while bouncing back to our kitchen counter to go to work on that ebbing high of hers.
I listen to the tap tap tap of her credit card cutting up his gift. A sigh deflates my chest. “But they wouldn’t be solved, Teeka.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Can you do that in your room?”
I hear a huge sniff before a grumbled, “Why is your dad’s friend coming over?” Teeka runs back into the living room with glee shining from dilated pupils. “I was kinda serious about joining in.”
I glare at her. “Teeks, if you don’t get the fuck away from me right now, I’m going to hit you with my cast. It’s heavy and it’ll be painful.”
“I’m just saying.”
“You’re moving out and not giving me any notice and now you want to do a three-way with my father’s best friend! Get out of here! I wish you’d never come home!”
She steps closer, jamming her finger at me. “You’re such a biatch, Marion, you know that? It’s why I don’t care that I’m leaving you high and dry.” Her finger zigzags through the air. “Total fucking bee-to-the-ahtch!”
A knock turns our heads.
I jump up. “Go away!”
“Maybe I’ll just answer that,” she smirks, and breaks into a run. In my current condition, she wins.
Which really goads me.
I’m the one who wins!
I am!
But lately?
Not so much.
Jack is standing on our shoddy welcome mat in suit pants and a white button-up shirt, no tie. The top two buttons are open revealing his hot tribal tattoo crawling toward his thick neck on the right side. The sexy strings of slender beads-and-leather necklaces he always wears, betray his inner rebellion to the business attire. And life.
He’s staring at my roommate with the seriousness he is known for. She’s floating so high she can’t feel his gravity.
But I can.
I feel it in every cell.
My memory didn’t exaggerate his sex appeal.
As she reacts to his undeniable gorgeousness, Jack’s eyelids go heavy like he’s weighing a problem he doesn’t know how to solve. I don’t blame him for looking annoyed. She’s clearly high. Is that what he’s thinking?
“Marion,” he growls as if he wishes Teeka would go away.
She glances to me and back to him, wipes her nose, and says, “I don’t know if you want a threesome, but I’m down.”
I’m not horrified easily. But this is Jack! He’s like a god in my mind, and not just because he looks
