Father time, p.13
Father Time, page 13
Jackson Reed places his hand on my shoulder. “Nice to see that you showed up.”
A fake smile grows across my face. I still want to knock Jackson Reed’s punk-ass teeth down his throat, but now isn’t the time for that.
Big Ted chimes in, “Word around town is that you’ve gotten this far in life, and you still don’t have any kids.”
“That’s because he’s gay,” Jackson Reed shouts.
“Bring your ol’ lady around and let her find out how gay I am.” The guys at the table erupt into laughter.
Bobby Lee whispers, “Watch out for ol’ Jackson . . . He’d try to bang your wife if you had one. Mike was married to Xena and had a child with her. But they busted up when Mike found out that she was sleeping with Jackson.”
“How did you find that out?”
“I responded to a domestic disturbance one night. Mike called the cops on Xena because she had beaten the hell out of him. Ain’t that a bitch? You found out your wife is cheating on you, then you get your ass beat for finding out. I still can’t understand how Mike and Jackson are still cool about it. Oh . . . Remember Clifford James da Third?”
“Yeah . . .”
“He was the biggest drug bust since Rack Daddy.”
“What?”
We find two empty spots at the bar. “Hell . . . I tried talkin’ with your ol’ girl, Sade, but her stuck up ass acted like she didn’t even know me. She has a stick stuffed all the way up her ass, man.”
“Why would she come here if she didn’t wanna talk to anyone?” I ask.
“She thinks because she’s on TV, she’s better than everybody else.”
I scan the room, “Where is she?”
“She probably went to the pisser,” Bobby Lee says as he signals for the bartender. “Can I get a Bud Light on draft?” He turns to me and asks, “Whatcha drinkin’?”
Xena and I are in the middle of a staring match from opposite ends of the bar.
“You didn’t learn your lesson from high school? That girl ain’t nothin’ but trouble,” says Bobby Lee.
“What happened to you, Bobby Lee? Not trashing your current career, but I wouldn’t have pegged you as a police officer.”
“I didn’t either . . . I had a full scholarship to play baseball at Arkansas State, but my dumb ass tried to play football too. I blew out my ACL and my PCL at football practice. That affected my baseball game, and I dropped out. If I wasn’t playing sports, there was no reason for me to go to college. I joined the force. But hey, that’s life. At least I don’t have student loan debt and I ain’t out somewhere sucking dick for car payments. I learned how to speak French but never left the state of Arkansas,” says Bobby Lee.
“I’m sorry . . . I’m waiting for the violin to play,” I say. We share a chuckle. “You can always leave,” I say.
Bobby Lee shakes his head no. “I can’t, man. I can’t leave my kids. I’m not doing that to my kids like my dad did me.” Bobby Lee takes a swig of beer, “All’s I’m saying is . . . Hell, I see why you don’t come home much. There’s nothing here. It’s a ghost town. Businesses crumblin’ . . . Unemployment rates spikin’ . . . Crime risin’ . . . I’ve seen more people die in these streets than I ever wished.” Bobby Lee takes a big gulp of his beer.
“Anybody, we know?”
Bobby thinks on it a second, “You remember Pretty Boy Roy?”
“Sade’s ex? Yeah . . . What happened to him?”
“He was shot and killed in a shootout a few years ago.”
I dig in my pocket and pull out the piece of paper titled Tre’s Shit List then scratch Big Ted’s and Pretty Boy Roy’s names off the list. I nonchalantly re-fold the piece of paper and stuff it back in my pocket.
Bobby Lee grows curious, “What was that?”
“Nothing. Continue with what you were saying.”
“I love this town, but if I could, I’d move as far away from this sum bitch as possible. This town lacks resources and leadership. The kids can’t dream because all they see is violence.”
Xena and I make eye contact again.
“Enough about that stuff . . . Come over and meet my wife,” Bobby Lee says. Bobby Lee leads me over to a table where a slightly obese lady is sitting. “Remember, my wife, Krystal. She said you were in her English class.” I study Krystal’s face, but I don’t register it.
“Tre, is that you?” Krystal asks ecstatically as she recognizes me.
“Yes . . . It’s me.” She stands and gives me an uncomfortable big bear hug, “How ya been?”
“I’ve been . . . Been good.” I try to fake my way through our interaction, but Krystal catches on.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
“Not even a little bit . . . I’m sorry.”
“At least you’re honest about it.” Krystal continues, “We were in second period together. I remember you going to sleep every day and then got the highest score on our final assignment. We thought you cheated on the paper, and then you turn out to be some big-time writer. Looks good on you.” Krystal throws a wink at me.
“Oh, yeah . . . Now I remember you . . . You are the ‘Cha Cha Slide’ girl . . . The one that sat on Bobby Lee’s face that night?”
“Yep . . . I’ve been sitting on his face ever since,” Krystal says proudly.
“That’s so disgusting . . . I’m happy for you guys,” I say.
Bobby Lee interrupts, “Baby, why don’t you get us a couple of beers.”
“OK, Daddy.” She walks off.
“What was that all about?”
“We’re kind of like swingers.” Bobby Lee says candidly.
“What do you mean . . . Kind of like swingers?”
“Well, we’re swingers. I didn’t wanna just come all the way out with it.”
What in the hell did I get myself into? I knew I should have stayed home.
“Don’t knock it till ya try it, Buddy Ro.”
I try to mask the awkward exchange, “No judgment here, bro.” I was judging him.
“It’s written all over your face . . . You’re judging me,” Bobby Lee says.
“Yes, I’m judging you . . . But if you like it, I love it.”
“Do you really love it?” Bobby Lee finishes the last gulp of beer and stares into my eyes. “Because now that I’m thinking about it, you should get with ol’ Sade and join us. I got one of them blow-up hot tubs, and the four of us can drink beer and catch up. You know what I mean?”
I scratch my head, “Nope . . . I don’t know what you mean and I’m good on not finding out.”
Bobby Lee covers the awkwardness with an uneasy chuckle, “I’m fucking with ya, bro.” We both share an awkward snicker. “Unless you’re gon’ do it?”
Bobby Lee stares me right in the eye.
“I’ll pass.”
Bobby Lee stands to his feet. “I’ll be right back,” he says. “Gotta drain the ol’ weasel.” Bobby Lee fades off to the bathroom.
Now is my time to escape. I stand to my feet then stroll off to the exit. I walk pass Krystal.
“Hey, Tre!”
I wave goodbye then sneak out of the bar. Before walking out of the door, someone taps me on the shoulder.
“Where are you going, Tre Tre Bear?”
I stop in my tracks and notice when I turn around it is Sade.
“Sade!” I say as we give each other a hug.
I am so enamored by Sade’s aura. A lot has changed over the years for Sade. She was a former WNBA All-Star turned basketball analyst who calls games for ESPN, TNT, and NBA TV. She was previously a reporter for the Washington Wizards and the Washington Football Team.
“You’re too good to be true . . . Looking like a modern-day Vanity.”
Sade is wearing a sexy black jumpsuit that wraps around her Amazonian figure. Her curly hair and nails are done immaculately. Her nails are low enough to dribble a basketball but sharp enough to draw blood.
Sade blushes but deflects, “Wow . . . Is that dirt around your face, or is that a beard? I don’t know who this guy is.”
“I thought you had left already.”
“I was waiting on you . . . But I had to sneak away from someone,” says Sade.
“Let me guess, Bobby Lee?” I asked.
“Yes! How did you know?”
“Because I had to sneak away too.”
Sade laughs. That cute laugh of hers was always music to my ears.
“Bobby Lee said you were acting all stuck up.”
“That’s because he invited me over for a threesome.”
“He hasn’t changed much.”
“I wouldn’t have expected anything less from him,” says Sade.
“It’s good to see you. I mean . . . I only came to this damn thing to see you.”
“I kind of only came to see you,” Sade admits.
Mike Rodriguez, Big Ted, and Jackson Reed all walk out of Bistro.
“Hey, we’re going to my house and play some cards? You guys should join,” Jackson slurs as he leans over and places his arm around Sade.
“I’ll pass. I have to drive back to Memphis.”
“Are you sure, babe?”
Sade removes his arm and corrects him, “I’m not your babe, Jackson. But nice to see you again.”
Xena follows behind and approaches me and Sade. She gives Sade a hug. “Good seeing you again, girl,” Xena says.
Xena positions herself in between Sade and me, hugs me a few moments longer than I expect, then she walks away.
Sade rolls her eyes, “I still hate that fake bitch. Give me your phone.”
I hand Sade my phone. We stare at each other in the eye a few moments, but neither one of us makes a move. Sade leans in, we hug each other, and she walks off.
Bobby Lee and his wife walk by me. “Babe, wait for me in the car, will ya?”
“Yes, daddy,” Krystal nods. “Hope to see you again, Tre!” Krystal winks at me then scurries off to the car.
“I saw you and Sade talking,” says Bobby Lee. “Is she down to join us?”
“We aren’t joining you, but it was nice seeing you again.”
“And where the hell you think you’re going? You’re not going home tonight.” Bobby Lee places his arm around me. “Because tonight, we’re getting fucked up!”
CHAPTER 21
Who would have guessed I’d be hanging out with Jackson Reed’s punk ass? We are in his so-called man cave that’s in his oil-stained garage. How tacky is that? Calling this place a shithole would be offensive to toilets. In this man-cave is an old sofa, an old dining table, and a cheap-ass beanbag that I’m sitting on. Jackson Reed, Big Ted, Mike Rodriguez, and Bobby Lee all sit at the dining table talking trash, playing poker, and pounding shots of Jose Cuervo. It is already bottle number four for these drunks. I hear fragments of the banter, but my focus is on my phone.
“It’s obvious that there is still an attraction between us,” I text Sade.
Sade sends a message right back that reads, “I’m staying at the Peabody in Memphis over the weekend. What time will you be here?”
To sound busier than I am, I text back, “I’ll check my schedule and see what works.”
“LOL! OK, Mr. Schedule. Text me when you get to the lobby . . . I’ll be good after 3 pm.”
I reply, “That’s too early and too late to do anything. But I guess I’ll see you then.”
“Do you remember our pact?” Messages Sade.
“What pact?” I reply.
“You don’t remember our pact?”
“No . . . What was it?”
“I’m not texting it over the phone.”
“See . . . You’re playing.”
“LOL! We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Heading to bed. Goodnight, Tre. ☺ “
“Wait . . .”
Sade replies with a question mark.
I text her, “Send me a nip pic!”
“Bye, boy!”
“Goodnight.”
Amid all the commotion, Jackson Reed focuses his attention on me.
“Yo,” Jackson shouts as he takes a sip of his drink. “Remember when Tre got his ass beat at the graduation party? Man, that was funny.”
Big Ted snickers then covers his mouth to conceal his laughter once our eyes met.
“Wait a second,” Bobby Lee says as his demeanor sours. “Tre, you got into a fight after graduation?”
“You were too busy getting your face rode on the dance floor. Pretty Boy Roy and his goons jumped, Tre. Correction, they whooped his whole entire ass,” Jackson utters with a snigger.
“I did get my ass whooped,” I say with a fake chuckle.
“And you didn’t help?” Bobby Lee asks.
“Nope! But I laughed my ass off,” Jackson Reed says with a chuckle. He then spells out, “L.M.A.O,” to add emphases to the ass-whooping.
“What kind of fucked up are you?” Bobby Lee asks. “You’re more of a bitch now than I ever thought. Who sits and watches a friend get his ass beat?”
Big Ted says nothing as he looks away, avoiding eye contact with everyone.
“It’s all good. We were never friends in the beginning,” I say with a fake smile as I glare down Jackson Reed’s punk ass. A part of me would love to knock his teeth down his throat and laugh as he suffocates on the blood from his mouth. I take a mental note and file it away.
“If I were Tre, I’d beat yo ass right now for bringing that up, and you didn’t help me.”
“Whatever,” Jackson says as he studies me for a few beats. He takes another sip. “You know who bought me that beanbag you’re sitting on?”
“Let me guess . . . Nobody, because you stole it,” I say because it’s in his wheelhouse.
“No. Actually your daddy bought it,” an inebriated Jackson says, slurring his words. “I saw his father more than he did.”
Big Ted and Mike burst into laughter. Hell, I laugh with them, but I am not letting that comment slide. “These are all facts!” I say with a grin. “He’s right . . . He saw my father more than I did because he was probably banging Jackson’s mother while his daddy was at work.”
There room grows quiet, then the guys erupt in laughter. Jackson doesn’t find my response humorous.
“Why you gotta say that?” Jackson said.
“You started it with your punk ass,” Bobby Lee says.
“That’s kind of a low blow, bro.”
“Stop acting like a bitch, Jackson,” says Bobby Lee. “You’ve said and done worser things.”
“Worser ain’t even a word, jackass.”
“Ain’t ain’t no word either,” Mike mumbles to himself.
“Statutory rape is a word,” Bobby Lee says.
“Actually, it’s more than a word,” says Jackson Reed’s punk ass.
“Sum bitch flunked six times and wants to correct me. You’re legit the only asshole I know that can attend the next six class reunions.”
I take great pleasure laughing my ass off along with everyone else in the room.
“Fuck y’all . . . I was only held back four times,” Jackson says defensively.
“In high school, Jackson was R. Kelly.”
“The girls I smashed were in the same grade as me,” Jackson says. “At least I was fucking. You no-pussy-getting motherfuckers. Y’all just mad because I probably fucked y’all’s wives back in the day.”
“Now hold on a second,” Mike interjects, “I used to bang your wife back in the day. Hell, she was my wife before she was yours.”
“None of y’all have slept my wife back in the day,” says a very confident Big Ted. Everyone grows quiet.
“Yes, this is true. But let’s be honest, you’re probably the only one that wants to fuck your wife,” Jackson says, calling out the elephant in the room.
Big Ted did not find Jackson Reed’s response funny, but I did.
“At least I know I’m the only one that hit it,” says a deflated Big Ted.
“That’s something you don’t ever have to worry about,” Jackson says bluntly.
As much as I don’t want too, I laugh my ass off at Jackson Reed’s comment and I enjoy it. I thought Big Ted was a friend and he left leave me hanging. Listening to this incestuous banter gives me clarity that after tonight, I will never see any of these fools again. At this juncture in my life, I am fine with it.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I ask.
Jackson says, “Through the doors on your right,”
I walk through the garage door and enter the house.
Krystal, Xena, Apple, and Mike’s wife Leslie are all sitting at the dining room table playing cards.
As I walk through the house, the ladies grow uncomfortably quiet. Xena and I make eye contact. Though she’s not saying anything verbally, her eyes scream, take me.
“Tre, you want next,” Xena says seductively.
“Only if you can handle it,” I say flirtatiously.
“I can handle it, baby,” Krystal says as our eyes connect. Her eyes scream, I’ll let Bobby Lee watch you take me.
“Nah, I’m leaving soon.”
I walk through the living room and enter the bathroom. I look in the bathroom mirror and check to see if anything is out of place on my face. I pull out my shit list to remind myself why I’m here in the first place.
Moments later, I head back toward the garage through the dining room where all the ladies are sitting. My gaze meets Xena’s eyes again. As I enter the garage, I hear an eruption of shouts along with giggles from inside.
When I open the door to the garage, I noticed Big Ted is passed out on the couch. Jackson and Mike are nose-to-nose and near blows, Bobby Lee standing in between them as if he is refereeing.
“I didn’t take your girl . . . She chose me when your ass expired,” says Jackson Reed’s punk ass.
Mike throws a punch and misses by a mile. Jackson shoves Mike in the direction of the punch’s momentum then stumbles to the ground. Mike can barely stand on his own two feet as he wobbles from side to side.
