“More than.” She digs back into the container. “So… you and Dice have been spending a lot of time together?”
“You could say that. I’m helping him host tonight at Docks. Gonna spin a few tracks.”
“Like old times.”
“Mm-hmm.” Not exactly, but not a lie either.
We talk more about everything and nothing, and I realize how much I’ve missed her. I make a quiet promise to come back for Thanksgiving, her favorite holiday.
Before I leave, I poke my head into the den to say goodbye to Maurice, something I wouldn’t have done before.
“See you soon,” he says, looking up from the news.
“Yep.” I wave to him, kiss my mom, and head home to Dice.
Damn. I just did it again. PutDiceandhomein the same sentence.
Innocent slip… or am I starting to blur the line?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dice
Killin’ me slowly.
Ipull into Docks, located right on the water, a prime location. It’s just past six. The sun has dipped low, painting the sky in streaks of purple and orange that shimmer off the lake. Words can’t do it justice. Bayside sunsets are what postcards dream of.
I pop the trunk, grab the record case trolley, and wheel it through the side entrance to the booth. Benny throws me a two-finger salute from behind the bar.
Fridays don’t get jumping till later, but I like setting up early. Adjusting the levels. Laying out the flow. I’m going to kick off the party with Parliament’s “Tear the Roof Off the Sucker.” Slip in some En Vogue too. The OG version of Destiny’s Child, one of Lot’s faves. I usually ride alone in the booth, but tonight she’s gonna be sitting shotgun.
I squat down and unlock the case, then grab the opening set, stacking the records in order.
“Was about to file a missing person’s report.” C’s voice steals my attention.
I straighten as he strolls into the booth. His café, just down the boardwalk, is closed for the night.
“You change coffee shops on me or what?” he asks.
“Naw. Just been busy.” We slap hands in our custom shake.
“So busy you skipped your Black Eye for a whole week?”
“Didn’t realize you were trackin’ my caffeine schedule.”
“Just curious. Haven’t seen Lot either. She the one makin’ you coffee?”
“More like the other way around.”
“Shit! I knew it.” He pumps a victory fist. “I’m about to win that grail.”
“What grail?”
“The bet,” he says, leaning against the doorjamb. “Told you a woman was gonna domesticate your wild ass. You said, ‘never,’ like it was gospel. Then put upUncanny X-Men#118. 1979. Mint condition. Soon-to-be mine.”
“You trippin’. I’m still single and free. Ain’t nobody domesticating nothin’.”
C grins like he’s all-knowing. My boy’s always been the grounded one. Raised his little sister. Gave up his music dreams to pay the bills. Solid. A real one. Six-three, husky, afro like a crown, and nothing but green flags. The relationship type.
