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I Can't Even Think Straight

Page 71

by Dean Atta

“I’m first on the Oculus.”

Nathan and Kwesi spring up

from the massive sofa

we’re all sitting on. All apart from Kojo,

who’s on a footstool.

Matt gives me a gesture,

a flat hand, palm facing down.

The rest of The Boys rise

and follow Nathan and Kwesi.

“Didn’t I say he should’ve taken the money?”

Abdi jokes. “This party’s dead.”

Sam looks back at me and Matt

on the sofa. “You man coming up?”

“Yeah, just a second,” says Matt.

“Are you good, Kai?” Sam’s eyes search me.

“Yes, I’m good,” I reply.

I’m not sure why

Sam’s worried about me:

he hasn’t paid much attention to me

before now.

“Good.” Sam nods and leaves.

Across the living room,

Nicky Anderson sits on

the lap of her girlfriend,

on an oxblood-red leather armchair,

their group of friends at their feet

on a scattering of floor cushions.

They hold court like a royal couple.

They regale their audience

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