Page 40 of Pills and Potions: Kase
But Tuesday wasn’t done. She came stormin’ back into the frame with her bonnet hangin’ off and a bag of hot chips. “What happened to the player, player?!Huh?! You out here holdin’ hands and cryin’ with strippers? You lost your game, fam!”
Just when I thought the roast session was over,Jace’s voice cut in from the background, clear as day:“This nigga was out here healin’ hearts and didn’t toss a single bill.Not one!”
Blyss damn near dropped the phone from laughing. Tuesday wheezed, gaspin’ for air like she ran a lap.
I groaned. “Y’all are fuckin’ the worst.”
Tuesday yelled, “And YOU the first nigga to ever get a standing ovation for emotional depth at Onyx!”
Then Jace added, chill and petty, “Nah… he the first nigga to pull strippers into a circle and open with,‘Let’s unpack that.’”
Tuesday couldn’t breathe. “Not the Booty Support Group!Nigga runnin’Twerk and Talk Tuesdays!”
Blyss was howlin’ at this point, fully laid out somewhere, laughing off-screen. I just laid back, arm over my face. “I hate this group.”
She finally caught her breath. “Night, Kase.”
“Fuck y’all.” I hung up.
Then I just laid there. Staring at the ceiling like it owed me answers. How the hell did I go from bottle service and bad bitches to being everybody’s emotional support mascot? I was supposed to be wildin’ tonight. I had on my good cologne. Instead, I got roasted by a girl with big ass glasses, a bonnet warrior with hot chips, and my own damn brother.
Chapter 12
Blyss Monroe
Thursday nights, I usually went bowling with a group from work,
but since they canceled, I asked Kase if he wanted to tag along.We pulled up to Blowout Alleys and somehow found a lane tucked in the back, quiet, dimly lit, and perfect for keeping a low profile. Which should’ve been the first red flag, because Kase? Hedoesn’tdo low profile. But he insisted he wasn’t himself tonight, yet still wanted to be cool. Truth be told, he was doing aterriblejob at it. He kept tripping over his own feet, throwing gutter balls like it was personal. I was cracking up.
“This is crazy. I keep falling,” he said, staring down at his feet like they betrayed him. “I wonder if it’s the shoes.”
“Or,” I grinned, “You might just have two left feet.”
“Really? You doing me like that?”
“I am,” I laughed. “But if I kiss you, then it’s okay if I clown.”
He smirked. “You just like me?”
“Maybe.”
I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him, soft and quick. He gently wrapped his arms around me like he was afraid to break something. Even when four beautiful girls with their boobshanging out passed by, clearly his type, he didn’t flinch. In fact, he pulled me closer and kissed my cheek.
“I don’t understand why women dress like that,” he mumbled near my ear.
“To get men like you to pay attention,” I said.
“Truth is, women like that? I wouldn’t take 'em to meet my mama.”
“Oh yeah? Then whowouldyou take?”
He looked me dead in the eye. “Someone like you. You’re respectable.”
Although, I knew his mama. I couldn’t lie, my chest did a lil’ jump at that.
This was the same man who used to chase after every thick girl in a Fashion Nova dress with a bounce to her step. He was just mirroring all the thingsIhad thought abouthim. I shook off the thought and tried to focus back on bowling. The girls were still over there, fake giggling and bending like they’d never seen a bowling ball in their lives. Desperate heffas. But Kase didn’t budge. He waved at me instead, then turned back toward the lane, strutting like his shoes cost more than the whole building, talking trash, spinning the ball in his hands like he was LeBron at the free throw line.
“Watch this,” he said, flashing that cocky grin like he was about to change bowling history.
