Page 3 of The Fadeaway
Motherfucker laughs.
“No shit?” he asks, attempts to keep himself from laughing more. Fails.
“Whatever it was one girl.” I walk toward my closet.
“Don’t worry, buddy, it was bound to happen eventually. Chicks are weird. Maybe she’s on her period.”
I survey the shirts in my closet. Grab one, put it back. Pull another out. I start to put it back but fuck why am I stressing about what to wear?
“You could sound less happy about it,” I say as I walk out of the closet. “Besides my average is still waaaay better than yours.”
“I think I like you better taken down a notch. What’s this girl’s name again? I want to buy her a drink.”
“Forget it. Forget this whole conversation or I’ll tell the guys about the shit you’re selling for Frank. They’re not stupid, man. Word is gonna get around.”
“It’s just until I get enough saved up for next year.”
“There are other ways to make money.” I shoot him a hard look. I feel bad for the guy. I don’t know what it’s like to not have money, but I know selling drugs is a terrible idea. “You’re still keeping that shit out of the house? Don’t take us all down with you.”
He shakes his head and locks his stare on mine. “I’d never. You know that.”
I do, but it’s good to hear him say it.
“Alright, let’s do this.”
“I thought you were staying in.” Calling me on my bullshit, he stands, and I follow him out of my room and downstairs. When we reach the living room, I’m only half-surprised to see Blair here, feet pulled up on the sofa, earbuds in and notebook on her lap.
When she sees us she pulls one bud free. “Hey.”
“Where’s Wes?” Nathan asks as he takes a seat in a lounger.
Blair shrugs, but Z enters from the direction of the kitchen, protein drink in hand, and says, “He was checking in with PT.”
He shakes the cup in his hand reminding me I need to grab something to eat before we hit the party. And make sure Nathan does. Guy has a tendency to skip meals when we don’t have food in the house. My mom knows this and tries to keep us stocked, but that’s a near impossible feat. Z alone eats enough to feed a family of four. He’s a big guy even by athlete standards which means he takes in a lot of extra calories to keep on the muscle he carries. We’re close to the same height, but Z is built like a cross between a linebacker and bodybuilder.
“Blair, what do you think of this shirt?”
She looks to each of the guys, who chuckle, before answering. “Umm. It’s fine.”
“Fuck. I should change, right?”
Their continued laughter is the only response. Nathan tosses me a basketball. He doesn’t say anything, but I read the “chill the fuck out” written on his face.
But I can’t. Katrina knocked me off my game.
I palm the ball for comfort and look back to Blair. “Well?”
She sits forward and gives me a slow once-over. “Turn.”
“Excuse me?”
She motions with her finger for me to spin. Fuck me.
Not letting go of the basketball, I turn with arms held out.
Wes’ voice is amused when he walks in and asks, “What the hell is going on in here? A fashion show?”
I toss the ball at his head and then regret it immediately because now I’m just a dude standing in the middle of the room twirling.
