Ari, Proctor, Cyn, and I left the room, and Proctor pushed Cyn in the wheelchair. Me and Ari walked behind them while Ari was on her phone trying to make herself seem busy. She didn’t have to look at Proctor, because I was staring at him hard enough for the both of us.
Proctor helped Cyn into the car, then jogged across the parking lot to his. I hopped in the backseat, and Ari took off towards Cyn and Hawk’s penthouse with the help of the GPS because Cyn had drifted to sleep quickly in the front seat. As we rode down the street, a Range Rover passed us up at a high rateof speed, and I knew it was Proctor. His crazy ass didn’t seem like he knew how to drive like a normal person and always had somewhere to be.
We pulled into the valet, and Proctor was standing out front, talking to a man in a suit who looked important.
Ari and I got out of the car, and Proctor approached the door to help Cyn, but she was already climbing out on her own.
“You don’t have to carry me, Proctor; I think I can make it to the elevator and up to my room.”
“My son told me to carry you, so that’s what I’m going to do.” Proctor bent his knees and swooped Cyn up into his arms with ease. She couldn’t do anything but giggle at his stubbornness, and I did too. Ari, however, tried her hardest not to laugh. It was clear as day that Proctor’s not guilty verdict still wasn’t good enough for her.
I remember when I first met Ari. I loved everything about my friend, up until I found out she had those stubborn Scorpio ways. I will never forget when we went out of town to Atlantic City when I finally turned twenty-one, because I was the baby. My older sister, Ari, and Cyn piled into my mama’s brand-new car and took off while she was on a cruise, unaware that we had driven her car out of town. That entire trip, Ari did nothing but complain about where we ate, how much we were spending, all the way down to our sleeping arrangements. We went to the casinos she wanted to go to, the clubs, and restaurants because she is a picky ass eater. Instead of her trying to make sure I had a good birthday trip, she was concerned about how she felt, and because I’m a good friend and I love her ass, I just let her make it. Ari was always fun in between those moments of self-centeredness.
When we reached the penthouse, Proctor sat Cyn down on the couch, and Ari dismissed herself to the room, saying she had a headache.
“Can I get you something to eat, Cyn? Call you up some room service?”
Proctor asked as Cyn leaned back on the couch, making herself comfortable.
“I’m okay and I will pass on the room service. I was telling your son the other week that the cooks must be new in the kitchen because my favorite pasta is just not as good anymore.”
“Well, I can get you something else from somewhere. I’ll go pick it up for you because I don’t fuck with that DoorDash shit. Overpriced, and that shit delivers cold. At least it used to.”
Proctor complained.
“I’m okay. I’ll just eat a can of soup or something light. I’m not really hungry.”
“Alright, but you know my number, and I expect you to use it when you need me. None of that pride shit, Cyn. You need to rest.”
“Okay, I will.”
Cyn smiled at Proctor, and just as he turned to go, something inside of me spoke up because I wasn’t tired of his presence at all.
“Proctor, I’m hungry. I could use something to eat.”
“Something like what?” he replied.
“There’s this place called Joe’s Fish House that I saw on TikTok. I wouldn’t mind Door Dashing, but I saw it’s not on there.”
I used an excuse to leave here with his sexy ass.
“Alright, come on. You not handicap like my daughter in law.”
Proctor walked to the door, and I hopped up behind him on his trail.
We loaded the elevator, and Proctor stood in the corner, looking down at his phone until the elevator stopped, opening the doors to a couple about to walk in.
“It’s full.” He told them, and they looked inside before the man questioned Proctor.
“It’s just two of you inside. I think we can fit, mate.”
From his accent, he clearly wasn’t from America and probably didn’t understand men like Proctor.Proctor is a gangsta, and sometimes gangstas just don’t make logical sense.
“It’s two people in here, but miles of dick with two hands that hit heavy like cement. Wait for another one or feel something mutha fucka.”
He hit the button to close the elevator door, and I laughed out loud at his audacity.
“Did you really just have to do that?”
