Page 117 of This Could Be Us

“In due time,” Hendrix replies cryptically. “It’s in the oven. I’m not pulling out till it’s done.”

“There’s some sophomoric humor to be had in that statement,” I laugh. “But I’m taking the higher, more mature road.”

“Speaking of the high road,” Yasmen says, sobering, “which you definitely took by not punching Amber in the face, have you thought any more about when you’ll tell the girls they have a little brother?”

I crumble a biscuit onto my plate. “I’m just gonna hold for now. Why should I have to tell them all the hard shit?”

“That’s right,” Hendrix says. “Let Edward deal with it when he gets out. You just keep working that pole.”

I laugh, raising my water for a toast. “Here’s to working the pole like rent is due, even though I’m making no money from my efforts.”

They take me up on my toast, but Hendrix grimaces. “If my pussy hurts, I want at least three orgasms to show for it.”

I choke a little, sputtering at the mention of multiple orgasms, but compose my features. I told Hendrix and Yasmen about the trip to the prison and about Amber’s little bundle of joy, but didn’t mention the world-rocking sex I had with Judah. They do usually offer great advice, and after the way I ran from Judah’s house like I was being chased, maybe I could use it.

“So, I may have… Ahem,” I say, pulling the silverware from its napkin blanket. “I may have had a little sex with Judah.”

My announcement is met with two sets of shocked eyes and dropped jaws.

“You sneaky heifer,” Hendrix laughs, giving me a congratulatory fist pound. “When?”

“New Year’s Day,” I confess.

“And you’re just now telling us?” Yasmen asks.

“That was only like three days ago,” I remind her.

“You gotta tell us this stuff immediately,” Hendrix says. “We’re ina drought and celebrate any rain in the forecast. At least one of us is getting some.”

“Um, excuse me.” Yasmen raises her hand. “To quoteBrown Sugar, I get it on the regular and the shit is the bomb.”

“Yeah, but you’re married.” Hendrix waves a dismissive hand. “To one guy. Twice. Booooooring.”

We all laugh at her joke, but when the humor fades, Yasmen narrows her eyes knowingly on my face.

“So tell us what happened betweenOh, my gosh, my inmate husband has a secret babyandI smashed the man who put him in prison,” Yasmen says, resting her chin on her folded hands. “This is someDays of Our Livesshit.”

“Now that’s a show I miss,” Hendrix says. “My grandmother used to watch her stories every day when we stayed with her over the summer.”

“Same!” I say. “General Hospitalwith Grammy and all myabuela’s telenovelas.”

“Focus.” Yasmen claps thrice and bends a semistern look on Hendrix and me. “Now, one of our own got her back broke by a handsome accountant, and I want all the details before mommy curfew kicks in and I have to leave to check homework and make lunches for tomorrow.”

“Right.” Hendrix sips her water. “Priorities. Spill, Sol.”

“Well, I was distraught after seeing Amber,” I tell them.

“And you said,I know what’ll make me feel better,” Hendrix says, imitating my higher-pitched voice. “Judah’s dick.”

“Hen!” Yasmen’s lips twitch. “Let her tell it.”

I don’t want to laugh, but they make it so hard—and everything so much better—a chuckle does spill out before I resume my tale of tail.

“Well it was actually your fault, Hen,” I admonish. “You and Lola were the ones who told me that self-partnering didn’t mean I couldn’t take something for myself once in a while.”

“I will gladly take the credit.” Hendrix pats herself on the back. “If anyone deserves some pleasure, after what you’ve gone through this last year, it’s you.”

“I’m happy if you’re happy, Sol,” Yasmen says. “But why do I get the feeling it’s more complicated than a hit it and quit it?”

---