“Go take a bath and get in bed,” he murmured, raking his bloody fingers through my hair before I walked inside. “It’ll make you feel better.”
It didn’t. Climbing into an empty bed only made me feel worse. Especially when I was supposed to want AJ on those sleepless, empty nights, like Yesenia warned.
I didn’t want AJ, though.
I wantedhard.
I wanted rough fingertips digging into my ass, unmanicured nails scraping against my scalp, and calloused hands gliding across my stomach, and the person who had all of that was done with whatever we had. It was in the hard look in his eyes when he told me not to come looking for him anymore. So I agreed I wouldn’t do it, but didn’t he know I said things to him I didn’t mean sometimes?
“Are you done with this, Ken?” Aunt Faye asks, shaking her crossed leg and gesturing toward the TV. “Because I think we need to talk without the background noise.”
“There’s still six minutes left in the game.”
“And you got six seconds to cut it off.”
A Pizza Hut commercial flashes onto the screen right as I start on my second deep breath.
“All I wanted was to watch the game today.”
“Right…while casually telling me you wanna give up on Rich.”
“Look,yousaid I could still watch AJ. So let me.” He points toward the TV while cutting his eyes at me. “And Rich ain’t giving me anything to work with, anyway. He’s combative…and…and truthfully, I think he’s just like his daddy.”
Aunt Faye sits forward, tossing her glasses on top of her head. “Excuse me?”
“I said, ‘I think he’s just like his daddy.’ They like that street shit. They don’t wanna learn no skills.”
“You didn’t even know Senior like that! Just because y’all met once and got a few friends in common doesn’t mean anything.”
I squint at her lips as she hurls the words out. I can’t even look at her the same after hearing Senior belt out that soft nickname—Faye-baby.
“Oh please! Everybody around here knew what kind of dude he was. He was a troublemaker—a lost cause. All those Lovelace men are. Rich’s hand was forced! If it wasn’t, he wouldn’t be interested in no damn boxing career. He’s still out there doing the same ole’ stuff that got him in this mess. I heard some more shit went down on Joliet last weekend and he was involved in it. Then he shows up yesterday with a cut wide as all get out on his stomach. I saw it when he took his shirt off.”
Cut?
I know his stomach well, and there was no cut on it when I left him last Saturday.
“Iknowthat cut!” Uncle Kenny yells. “I ain’t losing my life over this dude!”
I stop breathing.
They’re really fighting now. It feels just as suffocating as the day they argued after the funeral home called to ask Aunt Faye if we wanted Mama’s services held on the same day as Tony’s like his family requested.
Aunt Faye slams her hand down on the arm of her leather chair. “You’re saying a lot right now, Ken, and I think it’s best that you cool it. And turn this goddamn football off! We’re tired of watching it!”
A crack of thunder shakes the house as the camera pans across Highmark Stadium and both teams’ upcoming opponents flash across the screen.
“Next Sunday we’ve got the Bills taking on Aaron Rodgers and the Steelers in Pittsburgh. Knights are gonna take on JosiahJoseph and the Falcons in Atlanta. Stay tuned for more Sunday night football here in Buffalo.”
“Cute outfit.” My Uber driver, Marsha, eyes me in her rearview mirror. “Girls’ night out?”
“Yeah” flies out of my mouth in an icy tone that I don’t mean to use.
I clear my throat. “I mean, thanks. I made it myself.”
First, the two-tone denim mini skirt lived in my dorm in a drawer under my A&P manual, and when I graduated, I hid it in the very back of my closet behind my old prom dress while packing for New York. And it was still there when I rifled through my closet after Aunt Faye and Uncle Kenny went to bed.
“Niceee. It’s perfect for tonight. The low’s only supposed to be seventy-five after this rain blows over.” Marsha reaches her fleshy, pale hand out, turning up the Sabrina Carpenter song she’s been humming along to.
