Page 45 of The Playboy's Playbook

“You’ll be okay, Nola. I’ll be back for you. I promise,” Laila says, her voice soothing. She sets Nola’s panda bear and the toy bouquet in the kennel with her before latching the door closed. Laila locks up the house and I grab her hand as we make the short walk to my truck.

She made me take this quiz in one of her magazines about love languages – whatever the hell those are. Apparently, mine is physical touch and hers is words of affirmation.

I open the passenger door for her and help her into the truck, passing her the small cooler and blanket. I round the hood and climb into the driver’s side, turning the engine over, and start the drive to the open field where the fireworks show is taking place. Laila and I chat aimlessly until my phone rings and Luke’s name appears on the screen.

“What?” I growl.

“You’re lucky I have the boys with me, otherwise, I’d say something much worse. Hey, Laila,” Luke says.

Laila laughs and shakes her head. “Hey Luke.”

“We just got off the exit, so we’ll be a little late,” Luke says before shouting at the boys to stop kicking each other.

“Alright. We’ll get a good spot,” I say, turning down the road that leads to the sports complex. It’s already a shit-ton of people here, so I know parking’s about to be a pain in the ass.

“Alright. Cool. Oh and Matty, I need to – boys! Kick each other again and we’re going back home!”

Laila and I look at each other and snicker quietly, not wanting to get yelled at by Luke. My best friend sighs wearily. “We’ll see you guys there.”

The line goes dead and Laila and I immediately burst into a fit of laughter.

“Those boys, I swear,” I say. Laila continues to smile and turns the radio down a little as we begin looking for a parking spot.

“The city needs to lay down an actual parking lot,” I groan in frustration as I circle the grassy area for the fifth time.

Laila’s chuckles fill the truck. “Just park right there. And back in so we can just get in the truck and leave when we’re ready.” She points to an empty spot that’s near the corner of the field.

I slowly drive the truck to the spot and back in like she suggested. Once I park, we both gather our things and exit the truck. We walk hand-in-hand, smiling and waving to people who stare curiously at us. It’s not like Laila and I are trying to keep each other a secret, but we like our bubble. Our bubble is our safe space and tonight, we’re bursting through it with a very public outing.

I squeeze her hand, bringing her attention to me. “You okay?”

She smiles softly and nods. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m here with you and I’m happy. That’s all that matters.”

I tug on her hand, bringing us to a stop. I lean down and kiss her, not giving a damn what others are saying about us. I love this woman and I’m going to let everyone know that she’s mine just like I’m hers.

I take the picnic blanket and fan it open so we can sit down and get settled before the fireworks start. I look around at all of the kids playing and running, friends laughing. The band playing bluegrass music is a nice touch.

I forget how good of a community Oakridge is. I regret a lot of my life’s choices that kept me from experiencing simple moments of happiness like this. I was chasing a bottle rather than chasing the little things in life.

“Shit,” Laila curses. She’s digging through the cooler, a look of determination and frustration on her face. “We forgot ice. I’ll go see if the concession stand has some.”

She moves to stand, but I stop her. “I’ll go. Luke and the boys should be here soon, so I’ll see if I can spot them. Do you want or need anything else?”

She shakes her head and leans forward, silently asking for a kiss. I happily oblige and press our lips together before I stand and head over to get in line at the singular concession stand.

Finally, I get to the front of the line and I’m glancing over the concession menu that’s taped to the counter to see if there’s anything Laila could want. She doesn’t indulge in sweets often, but she does like to eat Starbursts every so often.

“My, my. If it ain’t Matty Foster.”

I close my eyes at the shrill sound of a voice I never wanted to hear again. Reluctantly, I glance up from the menu and come face-to-face with Rachel Finley. I haven’t seen her — or her dick of a boyfriend, Randy — since the night of my arrest. She reached out to me a few times while I was in jail, but I ignored her. I needed to re-enter society on a clean slate and she wasn’t part of that slate.

“You look good, Matty. Real good,” she purrs, trying her best to sound seductive. Rachel’s bleach blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail, but the color is washed out by her heavily spray-tanned skin. Her face is caked with makeup, and her false eyelashes are the longest I’ve ever seen.

“Were you the reason the line was taking so long?” I groan, rolling my eyes.

“Oh, you know me. I just love to chit-chat. I ain’t seen you in a minute. What’ve you been up to?” She leans forward, puckering her lips.

“Two cups of ice, please,” I say as I pull out two dollars from my wallet and slide them over the counter to her. I’m not in the mood to talk to her and I’m hoping she’ll take the hint.

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