Page 26 of Pretty and Loco

“Hey, baby.” I sang, extending my arms for him to hug me.

Normally he’d lean down, grab me by my waist, and slap my ass. But tonight he completely walked past me. He didn’t even acknowledge the fact that I was standing there.

Slowly, I dropped my arms to my sides and returned the energy as he plopped onto the stool near the island, then glared at me.

“Leah. Did you fire my chef?” He asked. His energy was on fire, but his voice was cool. I loved that he never had to raise it to get his point across. My father always told me that if a man couldn’t communicate, he couldn’t lead.

“Oh, that’s what you’re upset about? Yes, I did.” I didn’t lie.

The microwave beeped, signaling his food was ready, and while I wanted to leave it in there for him to grab himself, I went and got it.

“How can you fire somebody that doesn’t work for you?” He asked. I could hear the weariness in his voice.

“I didn’t like her tone. She disrespected me, and she had those long-ass nails and no gloves on, handling chicken and seafood like Salmonella doesn’t exist.”

He scoffed and just stared at me. It looked like he had a long day. I should be feeding him, running his bath water, and then draining his nuts, but he wanted to fight about another woman.

I set the plate of food that I made for him. I used the fork to break off a piece of the baked chicken and dipped it in the mashed potatoes.

I blew on it.

“I made the food for you this week, Rocko. Here, taste this.” I urged.

I held the fork toward his mouth, and he reluctantly took it and ate.

“Good, isn’t it?” I gloated.

He was quiet as he ate from the plate that I had made him. I sat there across from him, letting him work through whatever he needed to in his head. But there was no way that I’d sit here and defend what I did.

When he finished eating, he cleaned the plate and dropped it in the sink.

I opened the fridge and then grabbed a Dr. Pepper; it made him frown and go to the fridge himself.

“You ordered groceries?” He questioned.

“And snacks.”

“Yeah, Leah, you gotta go, ma.”

I was caught off guard by his anger, especially because it was just food.

“It’s that deep about snacks and soda?” I scoffed.

“No, it’s that deep that you’ve come into my house and fired my staff and changed shit like you live here.”

“I mean…. I haven’t been home in two weeks, Rocko. If I’m going to be here, I might as well make our house comfortable.”

There it was. That slip of the tongue I could never seem to control. The moment I said it, I saw his expression change, and I knew I had fucked up.

“Aight. I’ll talk to you later.” He doubled down, trying for the second time to dismiss me.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“That means I need space, Leah. I’ll hit you up later.” He said, leaning against the counter and crossing his legs.

His eyes were lower than normal, and he didn’t smoke, nor had we fucked. Practice must have really done a number on him, and I hated to add to what he was going through. It pulled at my heart a little that he looked so defeated. He was starting the new season as the returning MVP, and I know the pressure had to be overwhelming. But I had already tried to be his peace, and he didn’t want that. Now, I was forced to become his problem.

“My things are upstairs. You can call me when you’re in a better mood.” I said, grabbing my cell and keys.