never said they were good friends in high school.
The beautiful people were in effect, and the food was damn good too. I didn’t need anything weighing me down, so I had a bowl of gumbo in the dining room. Not as good as home, but not that watery stuff that some places called gumbo either. Smitty was tearing up some fried chicken like he hadn’t eaten in days. Jay had moved on to the lounge, where the ladies were.
“Ay, Max, that’s all you’re eatin’ tonight?” Smitty asked as he sucked on a chicken bone.
“Yeah, dawg. Just enough to soak up some of that beer. Gotta stay light on my feet. Don’t want to be belching around my future wife, y’know?” I joked, knowing she wasn’t to be found as long as I continued my hit-it-and-quit-it ways; one day, perhaps, I’d be over what had happened back in Louisiana and ready for something real.
“I guess you got a point there. You ready to mingle?”
We split up to cover more area. Smitty headed toward the bar, probably for another drink, while I ventured into the crowded lounge. I spotted Jay immediately. He was seated on a barstool, with an audience of not one, but two women. One sister, with a cappuccino complexion and pretty little braids running down her back, wore a tight, backless light blue dress. The other one had one of those cute permy-fros to go with her golden-delicious self and red dress. I was about to slip by when Jay motioned me over.
“Hey, cuz,” Jay said, brimming with confidence, as he should, for what he’d landed. “I want you to meet my two friends here. Diane and Brandi, this is my cousin, Maxwell. Maxwell, these are my friends, Diane and Brandi.”
I could tell Jay was running game when he called me by my full name. Diane, in the blue dress, shook my hand and then slowly let it go. The lingering touch and eye contact as our hands parted spoke to me. Her nipples popping up through the fabric of her dress spoke louder. Brandi gave me a little wave while communicating with her friend via smiles and the unspoken cues known only to women. I’d been given the approval and wasn’t going anywhere.
The brief conversation went well, until Jay told me to take a walk with him to the bar.
“Cuz, they are ready!” he said, barely away from their ears.
“Bet,” I said, noting the obvious.
“I need to fill you in, though. They think we’re in the NFL.”
“Say what?”
He put his arm around me, pulling me into his web. “I told them we both play football and return to L.A. when our season ends.”
“Why do you have to make up shit? Man, look at us. We ain’t built like pros.” I was up for the action, just minus all the extra fake bullshit Jay seemed to excel at. If someone didn’t like me for me, then fuck them.
“What?” he said, feigning innocence. “They don’t know shit about football. We could be kickers for all they know. All they see is the promise of being part of our world. Well, for one night at least.”
“You don’t think people fall for that shit, do ya?”
“All the time, cuz. All the time. This is L.A., nigga. Everybody lies. It’s all about whether your story is better than the next nigga’s. Your country ass will never survive out here if you don’t learn that. And quick.” Jay’s smooth demeanor soured temporarily as he channeled his inner ass-hole.
I paused to glance back at Diane and Brandi, who were still smiling and waiting patiently for us. As I continued my trip to the bar, I envisioned Diane riding me all night, inhaling her sticky sweetness, probing her wetness. Wondered how it would feel to be in the throes of passion with her and to hear her screaming my name. But would it be me making her scream, or simply a falsity spun by Jay?
As Jay ordered a final round of drinks, I tapped him on the shoulder.
“Where are we supposed to go with them? One look at my apartment and this is over.”
“Relax. I’ve got Pops’ credit card, so it’s time to get that room. After these drinks,
The beautiful people were in effect, and the food was damn good too. I didn’t need anything weighing me down, so I had a bowl of gumbo in the dining room. Not as good as home, but not that watery stuff that some places called gumbo either. Smitty was tearing up some fried chicken like he hadn’t eaten in days. Jay had moved on to the lounge, where the ladies were.
“Ay, Max, that’s all you’re eatin’ tonight?” Smitty asked as he sucked on a chicken bone.
“Yeah, dawg. Just enough to soak up some of that beer. Gotta stay light on my feet. Don’t want to be belching around my future wife, y’know?” I joked, knowing she wasn’t to be found as long as I continued my hit-it-and-quit-it ways; one day, perhaps, I’d be over what had happened back in Louisiana and ready for something real.
“I guess you got a point there. You ready to mingle?”
We split up to cover more area. Smitty headed toward the bar, probably for another drink, while I ventured into the crowded lounge. I spotted Jay immediately. He was seated on a barstool, with an audience of not one, but two women. One sister, with a cappuccino complexion and pretty little braids running down her back, wore a tight, backless light blue dress. The other one had one of those cute permy-fros to go with her golden-delicious self and red dress. I was about to slip by when Jay motioned me over.
“Hey, cuz,” Jay said, brimming with confidence, as he should, for what he’d landed. “I want you to meet my two friends here. Diane and Brandi, this is my cousin, Maxwell. Maxwell, these are my friends, Diane and Brandi.”
I could tell Jay was running game when he called me by my full name. Diane, in the blue dress, shook my hand and then slowly let it go. The lingering touch and eye contact as our hands parted spoke to me. Her nipples popping up through the fabric of her dress spoke louder. Brandi gave me a little wave while communicating with her friend via smiles and the unspoken cues known only to women. I’d been given the approval and wasn’t going anywhere.
The brief conversation went well, until Jay told me to take a walk with him to the bar.
“Cuz, they are ready!” he said, barely away from their ears.
“Bet,” I said, noting the obvious.
“I need to fill you in, though. They think we’re in the NFL.”
“Say what?”
He put his arm around me, pulling me into his web. “I told them we both play football and return to L.A. when our season ends.”
“Why do you have to make up shit? Man, look at us. We ain’t built like pros.” I was up for the action, just minus all the extra fake bullshit Jay seemed to excel at. If someone didn’t like me for me, then fuck them.
“What?” he said, feigning innocence. “They don’t know shit about football. We could be kickers for all they know. All they see is the promise of being part of our world. Well, for one night at least.”
“You don’t think people fall for that shit, do ya?”
“All the time, cuz. All the time. This is L.A., nigga. Everybody lies. It’s all about whether your story is better than the next nigga’s. Your country ass will never survive out here if you don’t learn that. And quick.” Jay’s smooth demeanor soured temporarily as he channeled his inner ass-hole.
I paused to glance back at Diane and Brandi, who were still smiling and waiting patiently for us. As I continued my trip to the bar, I envisioned Diane riding me all night, inhaling her sticky sweetness, probing her wetness. Wondered how it would feel to be in the throes of passion with her and to hear her screaming my name. But would it be me making her scream, or simply a falsity spun by Jay?
As Jay ordered a final round of drinks, I tapped him on the shoulder.
“Where are we supposed to go with them? One look at my apartment and this is over.”
“Relax. I’ve got Pops’ credit card, so it’s time to get that room. After these drinks,
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