“Shit. Wassup? You know I got you.”
“I need your rooftop tonight, your best chef, and best bartender.”
“Damn, nigga! What you got up your sleeve tonight?”
“Nothin’ too special. Dinner with a new friend. I wanna show her something nice, understand?”
“Say less! I got you. Let me rearrange some shit real quick, and then I’mma confirm with you in just a few, aight?”
“Already, my guy.”
“Already.”
Mike and I grew up in Georgia together, and we both made it out of the hood on some legal shit, unlike some of our peers. Whenever he needed anything from me as far as protection, he knew I had him. Whenever I needed him, like I did that night, I knew he had me.
The Backwoods was perfectly pearled. I licked the Backwoods to perfection, took my lighter, and ran it back and forth along the blunt, sealing it just right. I took off my suit jacket, unbuttoned my shirt, and unbuckled my belt to step out of my slacks. I left the blunt on the rolling tray and pushed back from my desk while I ran upstairs and tossed my clothes in my hamper.
My phone doubled as my remote when I was there. I sank down into the black modular couch and watched the early afternoon football game on ESPN. The same playlist I vibed to in the car, I put it on. It was never too early for some old school.
I inhaled a long pull of the blunt and let it infuse my mind. The weed relaxed me on just the first two pulls. Good dope always got me high quick, which meant I only needed one fat ass wood to get me where I needed to be. I pulled up the text thread between Lyra and me.Should I send her another text?I saw she didn’t respond to my shit, but she reacted to it with an emoji.
I had to put her ass in check and let her know what it was with me.
Me:
Reacting to my message with an emoji ain’t a response.
Lyra:
Says who?
Me:
ME.
She reacted again with the same laughing emoji, so I called her, and she answered on the first ring.
“I’m at the spa, so make this quick.”
“Don’t react to my messages, beautiful.”
“You can’t tell me what to do, Dre.”
“Regarding me, I can.”
“I’mma let you have this one.” I could feel her smirk through the phone.
“Enjoy your spa appointment, beautiful.”
“Thanks, Dre. I will.”
The way her voice sounded on the phone had me wanting to get the date started earlier than I had planned. I knew it would be a good night. Hell, it had been years since I’d taken a woman out on a date. Work and Junior took up all of my time. There had been a couple of women I kept on standby that I could call who would get me off if I needed it. My free time outside of that consisted of working out, enjoying time alone, and occasionally playing ball with my two brothers.
I finished my blunt and continued watching the end of the Alabama game. The team could do no wrong in my book. Win, lose, or draw, I would always be a fan. By the time I finishedmy blunt, I was starving. I also knew I didn’t want to eat too much before tonight, so I ordered a Cobb salad from a spot right outside of the neighborhood and scheduled it to be delivered as soon as possible.
I felt myself nodding off to sleep, and I quickly jumped up and went upstairs to touch up my haircut. I only let two people chop me up around the perimeter of my locs, and neither was available, so I had to make it do what it did for the time being.
I stood in front of the mirror, shirtless, with a towel over the counter to catch the hair from my clippers. The familiar buzz of the clippers echoed throughout the bathroom while I touched my shit up. I couldn’t help but think about Lyra and how amazing I knew she would look. If she looked as good that night as she did in her flight attendant uniform, I knew she would kill it fasho.
