“So why’d you go to Lockwood if you could’ve got into those other schools?”
“It’s where my best friend Terrica was going. She only stayed a semester, though.” I smack my lips with a chuckle. “But as soon as I got there, I fell in love with the campus and felt comfort in seeing people from around the neighborhood whose houses I grew up cleaning and playing at. I felt at home. So I stayed even after she dropped out.”
His lips turn down, and he nods.
“What about you? You went to Wesley?” I ask.
“Yeah…something like that,” he murmurs, bringing the blunt back to his lips and sucking in a hit while I admire the way his chiseled cheeks sink in.
“What do you mean ‘something like that’?”
He ashes his blunt on the side of his truck, then looks back over at me through squinted eyes. “It means exactly what it means. Sometimes I went and sometimes I didn’t.”
“Well, did you graduate?”
We cut our eyes at each other at the same time.
Carter Wesley High is the neighborhood high school. It was one of those drab buildings Christophe turned his nose up at on my Uber ride from the airport. Terrica and most of the guys from Worthing went to high school there. It’s not exactly a place you brag about being an alum of, but folks did anyways. It goes along with that whole Bayou Crest pride thing.
“You a nosy lil’ something, ain’t you?” He snorts, shaking his head.
“It’s called being curious. It’s how you have a decent reciprocal conversation and learn about other people.” I smack my lips. “And let’s not pretend that you’re so indifferent yourself—you’re just as nosy.”
He roars out a laugh this time, flashing his perfect white teeth encased between bruised gums that unintentionally make me smile.
“So how’d you break your jaw?” I ask, tilting my head.
“Who told you I broke my jaw?”
“Your messy friend, Faye.”
He chuckles, sitting back on his elbows and looking up at the sky. “Don’t do that. Me and Faye go wayyy back.”
My eyes drag across his naked torso. “Oh yeah, how far?”
“Far enough that she trusted me with you today.” He smirks.
“Yeah, that’s not exactly what happened, but sure.”
He doesn’t look over at me, and I’m thankful for it. I don’t think I can stomach any more of hislookswhen he says stuff likethat…and he’s right. The old Aunt Faye would never let me do what I’m doing now with any of the guys from Worthing, and now I understand why Terrica might’ve been a little obsessed with guys from the Bottoms. Listening to Rich and all of his little quips is kind of addictive.
“The doctor said it broke right at my joint. I could feel the bones rattling when I talked,” he mumbles, twisting his plump lips to the side. “He did surgery on it and then wired it shut for afew weeks. They gave me Oxy for the pain, but I sold them hoes to my neighbor and kept it pushin…”
He waves his taped hand out as if to sayc’est la vie,and I nod as if I can relate.
“So the weed is for natural pain management?”
He shrugs. “If that’s what you wanna call it.”
He’s floating now. It’s in the red of his eyes as he stares up at the Texas blue sky I forgot I missed. A thin white cloud sails by. His eyes follow it as he lies back against the bed of his truck and tosses his bulky arm behind his head.
Now I feel some type of way about whatever woman got to run her hands across his bulging biceps, but I can’t put my finger on the feeling because I still can’t feel much of anything these days. The only thing I do feel is the big “Bayou Boy” tattooed across his left forearm because he’s definitelythat.
“So now you’re gonna tell mehowyou broke it, right?” I whisper, glancing at his jaw.
He chuckles. “You really wanna know?”
I nod.
