and start demanding answers to questions. Pretty goddamn rude, as a matter of fact. You ask me a question oncet, I'll answer it if I feel like it. But you ask me twicet … and you'll upset me."
"Well shit, don't get upset, you might cut yourself again."
Evan Hastings closed his eyes. He shook his head. "See," he said slapping the knife against his palm, "problem is you don't know who you're talking to. Most men ain't got balls nowadays. And women, some women, they come to rely on that. They start believing there ain't no real men left."
"I can see you're all man." I didn't actually mean to provoke him, but I am by nature a smartass, so maybe it came out provocatively.
Evan opened his eyes and fixed them on me. Then he stood up and walked over to the door and locked it.
I stood up.
He leaned against the door.
I said, "Let's take it easy. I just came here looking for my friend. You don't know where she is, I can just be on my way."
He rubbed the flat of the blade against his bare gut and groused, "See, now you want to take it easy. A second ago you wanted to be mouthy, but now you want to take it easy. All it took was me locking the door. Just slid a little piece of metal into a little slot and now all the sudden you want to take it easy."
With my peripheral vision, I scanned my distance to the nearest knife on the wall. I could reach it without having to take a step or bend over the couch.
I felt my skin flush when he took a step toward me. I moved to the right and kept the coffee table between us. I pulled a knife off the wall.
He said, "That's my Randall 14."
"You touch me and I'll stick this Randall 14 in between those balls you love so much."
He took a step to the left to get between me and the door. "You ever been in a knife fight?"
I took a step to my left.
"Naw," he said, "you ain't never been in no knife fight. Want some advice? Want to know the secret to winning a knife fight? The secret is, don't be afraid of getting cut."
I stopped moving. His advice wasn't bad.
He took another step toward me. I tossed his Randall 14 on the sofa.
That amused him.
"We're not playing anymore?" he said.
I locked eyes with him and walked between him and the coffee table, our faces maybe two inches away from each other. "I got all I need here," I said.
I got to the door and unlocked it and opened it.
Evan Hastings smiled, supremely satisfied. So satisfied he threw me a bone. "Alexis come back from seeing her momma and decided to get some religion," he said. He picked his teeth with the point of his knife. "Leastways, that's the way she tolt it to me. I didn't say nothing. Let her go find the Holy Ghost—don't mean fuck all to me."
I turned around. "You know that she actually knows Jerry Kingston? You see them together?"
"Naw, but I know she went to meet him. The last night she was here, she said she's going out. And I was like, 'Where you going?' And she said she didn't want to say. And I was like, 'Bull and Shit.' Sleeping in my house, eating my food, shitting in my toilet, and don't want to tell me what you're doing? I was like, 'That's bullshit.' And she said, 'I'm going to see Brother Jerry.' And I said, 'Why?' and she said, ''Cause.' And I said, ''Cause why?' And she said it wasn't none of my business."
He stopped to let me ask what happened next.
I said, "Then what?"
He pointed at me with the knife. "I straightened her out. Not fucking around like just now with you, but for real. I straightened her the fuck out."
"With a knife?"
He smirked. "Nah, I'd never cut up a pretty face. I ain't that kind of man. I just slapped some sense into her."
"No."
"What?"
I felt my face flush again. Something about seeing satisfaction on a face that stupid and gross prompted me to say, "I can see you're not that kind of man."
I stepped back inside and closed the door behind me. I locked it.
Still holding his knife at his side, he suddenly looked confused. "The fuck you doing?"
"I wanted to tell you what a balless
"Well shit, don't get upset, you might cut yourself again."
Evan Hastings closed his eyes. He shook his head. "See," he said slapping the knife against his palm, "problem is you don't know who you're talking to. Most men ain't got balls nowadays. And women, some women, they come to rely on that. They start believing there ain't no real men left."
"I can see you're all man." I didn't actually mean to provoke him, but I am by nature a smartass, so maybe it came out provocatively.
Evan opened his eyes and fixed them on me. Then he stood up and walked over to the door and locked it.
I stood up.
He leaned against the door.
I said, "Let's take it easy. I just came here looking for my friend. You don't know where she is, I can just be on my way."
He rubbed the flat of the blade against his bare gut and groused, "See, now you want to take it easy. A second ago you wanted to be mouthy, but now you want to take it easy. All it took was me locking the door. Just slid a little piece of metal into a little slot and now all the sudden you want to take it easy."
With my peripheral vision, I scanned my distance to the nearest knife on the wall. I could reach it without having to take a step or bend over the couch.
I felt my skin flush when he took a step toward me. I moved to the right and kept the coffee table between us. I pulled a knife off the wall.
He said, "That's my Randall 14."
"You touch me and I'll stick this Randall 14 in between those balls you love so much."
He took a step to the left to get between me and the door. "You ever been in a knife fight?"
I took a step to my left.
"Naw," he said, "you ain't never been in no knife fight. Want some advice? Want to know the secret to winning a knife fight? The secret is, don't be afraid of getting cut."
I stopped moving. His advice wasn't bad.
He took another step toward me. I tossed his Randall 14 on the sofa.
That amused him.
"We're not playing anymore?" he said.
I locked eyes with him and walked between him and the coffee table, our faces maybe two inches away from each other. "I got all I need here," I said.
I got to the door and unlocked it and opened it.
Evan Hastings smiled, supremely satisfied. So satisfied he threw me a bone. "Alexis come back from seeing her momma and decided to get some religion," he said. He picked his teeth with the point of his knife. "Leastways, that's the way she tolt it to me. I didn't say nothing. Let her go find the Holy Ghost—don't mean fuck all to me."
I turned around. "You know that she actually knows Jerry Kingston? You see them together?"
"Naw, but I know she went to meet him. The last night she was here, she said she's going out. And I was like, 'Where you going?' And she said she didn't want to say. And I was like, 'Bull and Shit.' Sleeping in my house, eating my food, shitting in my toilet, and don't want to tell me what you're doing? I was like, 'That's bullshit.' And she said, 'I'm going to see Brother Jerry.' And I said, 'Why?' and she said, ''Cause.' And I said, ''Cause why?' And she said it wasn't none of my business."
He stopped to let me ask what happened next.
I said, "Then what?"
He pointed at me with the knife. "I straightened her out. Not fucking around like just now with you, but for real. I straightened her the fuck out."
"With a knife?"
He smirked. "Nah, I'd never cut up a pretty face. I ain't that kind of man. I just slapped some sense into her."
"No."
"What?"
I felt my face flush again. Something about seeing satisfaction on a face that stupid and gross prompted me to say, "I can see you're not that kind of man."
I stepped back inside and closed the door behind me. I locked it.
Still holding his knife at his side, he suddenly looked confused. "The fuck you doing?"
"I wanted to tell you what a balless
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