Page 9 of Autumn & Woods
“Yes, boy. The store! ain’t nobody told you to be with them cousins of yours gettin’ toe-up last night.”
I rubbed my eyes. “I’m good.”
“You don’t soundgood. You sound like your brain still marinatin’ in Tequila and weed smoke.”
I laughed under my breath. “Relax. I gotchu.”
“You always say that, and somehow we still be waitin’ on you like you a damn guest.”
“Iama guest, Ma.”
“You a son first. Get your ass up!” She hung up without waiting for confirmation.
I stared at the phone for a second, then tossed it onto the bed and sighed. “Damn.” Couldn’t dodge expectations today, even if I tried. Maybe if I moved slowly enough, time would just forget about me for a minute.
I peeled myself from the covers, padded barefoot and half-awake across the presidential suite, dragging my hand down my face. The place was damn near the size of a condo, with a kitchen, living room, private balcony, and oversized marble shower.
I turned on the Bluetooth speaker, let a lil’Duffle Bag Trappyplay, and headed for the bathroom. His new EP was fire. The hot water revived me. Steam filled the shower, and by the time I stepped out, I felt human again.
Flying through my mental to-do list, I tossed on black designer jeans, a fleece button-up, and fresh black Timbs. My Cuban rested on my chest, my AP gleamed, and a spritz of Gucci had me set. Then my thoughts drifted to Autumn’s fine ass.
I reached for my phone again, thumbing through my recent apps, instinctively openingDaGramapp. I paused, though, because what was I even searching for? I didn’t know her last name. I didn’t have a handle or nothing. I sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at my screen like I had a chance in hell of finding her in, and then I laughed.
“Yeah… I’m trippin’.”
I dropped the phone, went to the desk by the window, rolled up, sparked it, and let the tension roll off. Grabbed the key card, wallet, and dipped. Holiday vibes in full effect.
T h ef i r s tt h i n gI heard was cartoon music and the sound of tiny feet slapping on hardwood. Then came the smell of leftover tequila.
I rolled over on the pullout couch, squinting against the sunlight creeping through the blinds, and groaned into my pillow. I had drool on the side of my mouth, and my lashes were stuck to the side of my face. Taj’s six-year-old twins were running full-speed back and forth like they had somewhere to be.
“Mommmmyyy! She hit me!”
“No, I didn’t! He lyin’!”
I sighed and sat up slowly, letting my sleepy eyes adjust. Taj’s small living room looked like a crime scene. Throw blankets were tossed across the floor, last night’s bottle ofCasamigos sat abandoned on the end table, a few half-empty red cups were scattered around, and the unplugged ring light—forgotten from our impromptu karaoke session—rested against the wall.
We had an R&B vibe—drunk harmonizing, screaming Tink lyrics. Taj’s homegirl brought nachos for the wings and her bad relationship advice. It was fun, but now my head was paying for it.
I reached for my ringing phone on the armrest to see my Dad calling. Damn. I loved that man, but his timing was always off. I swiped to answer and cleared my throat. “Hey, Daddy.”
“Well, well. Look who finally decided to wake up.” His voice was smooth, playful. He was the only person who could talk shit to me first thing in the morning, and I’d let it slide.
“Still tired,” I mumbled, rubbing my temple. “Tequila and R&B kept me up.”
He laughed. “Sounds about right.”
“Where are you?” I asked, already hearing waves in the background.
“Aruba.”
“Seriously?”
“Mmhmm. I like the water, and Desiree wanted to see it.”
I blinked. “Desiree?”
“She just turned thirty.”
