He doesn’t let me sit in my embarrassing naivety for long before he drops his hand and starts talking again—slurring and moving his hands. The glass of Hennessy dances in my eyes under the moonlight while he raps to me about the laws that govern the planet he’s always on by himself: Planet Ace.
“Our good is whatever you choose to tell me,” he says, pointing from his broad chest to mine. “It’s okay if Mom won’t eat what we want her to eat. We just have to find something she likes, kid. You doing a good job.”
Our. We. Kid.
Nobody ever told me I was doing a good job at anything.
He takes little sips of Hennessy between each of the words and his finger keeps lingering on my bottom lip to swipe away whatever he keeps imagining there. He’s talking like he knows my life.
“We?” I blurt.
“Yeah… we. You never learned how to play follow the leader?”
Thatmakes me laugh. “Is this the shit that drunk people talk about?”
“No, it’s the shit me and you talk about. I want you on whatever I’m on,” he says. “I gotta choose our vibe, so you gotta follow the leader. You feel me?”
I nod, because I get it. On Planet Ace, I’m his team and he’s making sure I understand to fall in line like the good point guard he is.
“Yeah.” I sigh. “I feel you.”
He smirks. His eyes flutter against my moist chest and I hold my breath while I wait for him to get to my titties like Bryson does when we’re about to leave each other, but he never looks down. He looks me dead in my face instead.
“And when I say I choose our vibe, I mean I choose it everywhere.”
I blink hard.
I’m not sure if those words came out his mouth that way or if I imagined them. I think there’s another sexual innuendo lurking in them, but it’s no use in me dwelling on it because tomorrow, it’ll be in a forgotten pile with the rest of the words he told me tonight.
Bright lights flash on us, exposing our closeness and my sweaty chest burns. Our bodies are too close, but he doesn’t jump back. Music thumps from the car pulling into the driveway. I know it’s Marcus and I know Ace can see that it’s Marcus behind the wheel of his Buick, but he won’t move his hand off my neck.
“C’mon.” He pulls me towards the car, but just the thought of Marcus yanks me off his planet.
“Ace,” I hiss.
“Phat,” he hisses back, laughing.
“Go in the house with Mama.”
He snorts. “Go in the house? You trippin'.”
I’m back on Earth where Ace doesn’t control the vibe and I remember the gun Marcus keeps in his middle console for boys like him because all the boys I ever liked were scared of Marcus—especially Bryson.
“Nigga, I’m tryna help you out.”
Those words make his smile dip. Marcus’ car beats behind us while we stand and stare at each other like we’ve been caught. Well, it’s just me that looks like I got caught. Ace keeps holding my neck and the glass of Hennessy because it’s obvious he hardly leaves Planet Ace.
I pull back, but he grips tighter. “Ace… for real. He’s coming.”
“And?”
“And you need to move or—or he’s gon—”
Marcus’ car door creaks. “What you on tonight, Ace?”
I wanna run.
“Shit…” Ace answers, staring at me like he did over dinner. “Mom got me on Henny. What you on, brodie?”
