Chapter Ten Cash #2
“Told ya. After the last rain, I have the distinct impression that green mold is a sentient being,” I said as I led us inside.
“The fuck is that?” Taco asked with a wide-eyed stare at my recliner. “A hand-me-down from your great-grandma?”
I shot him a glare from beneath my brows. “I dare you to sit in it.”
“Can’t. I don’t have my knitting with me.” He snorted at his lame joke. “Seriously, man. We have a reputation to uphold, and that will. Not. Cut. It.”
“Sit in it.” Then I held up my hand. “Wait. On second thought, do not sit in it. We’ll just stick it in the corner of my room.”
Taco didn’t take the bait, but Dalton did.
The gingerly way he lowered himself into the chair, as if it were Audrey from that movie Little Shop of Horrors and the massive yellow flowers covering every square inch were going to devour him, cracked me up.
Then he sat all the way back and pulled the lever to raise the footrest.
“Oh fuck, Cash.” Dalton glanced up at me. “Why do you even bother with a bed?” He settled his ass deeper in the chair and sighed again.
“Really?” Taco asked, his tone skeptical. “That comfortable?”
“I’m calling dibs on this chair every time we play COD,” Dalton answered.
“Nah, we’ll save the argument. If I play some creative Tetris, I think I can fit it in my bedroom.”
“That’s evil, man,” Dalton complained as he heaved himself out of my recliner. “Dangle the most comfortable chair in the world in front of us then jerk it away? Stone-cold.”
I chuckled at his theatrics. “I managed to take my bed apart, so the only big stuff left to do is pack out the mattress and box spring. We should probably load that up first.”
A few minutes later, everything I owned was loaded into our respective vehicles and my tiny house was spotless, thanks to the guys doing me a solid and helping me with the final cleaning in the living room and the bedroom.
The last task was to drop off the key with my landlord, who insisted on a walk-through of the place.
From his disgusted “harrumphs” as he discovered spotless appliances, pristine fixtures, and not a speck of dirt on the floors, my landlord couldn’t have made his disappointment in finding no reason to withhold my deposit more obvious.
Dally hung with me during the inspection.
When my landlord tried to say the smear he’d left on the side of the tub was going to require a professional cleaner, Dally cleared his throat, drawing the man’s attention to my massive lineman friend.
A subtle shake of Dally’s head, along with pointed looks from both of us in the direction of my landlord’s sooty fingertip, and he “magnanimously” offered to waive that fee.
I left with a check for my deposit and zero glances in my rearview mirror as I followed Dally over to my new place.
It took even less time to move in. If I put my dresser and TV in the closet, I could fit both my bed and my recliner in my room.
But somehow my “great-grandma’s furniture” remained downstairs, joining the three other recliners in the living room.
I stifled a grin when Dalton insisted on setting it directly in front of the massive TV set up on a fancy wrought-iron stand.
“You do know whenever I’m around, that chair is mine, right?” I asked, and I wasn’t messing with him.
“Yeah, sure, Cash. But when you’re not around, I call dibs.”
“All right, I need to know what the fuss is about,” Taco said as he made his way over to the chair.
Dalton slid in beneath him, keeping him from trying it out. “I don’t think so, bro. After the way you made fun of it at Cash’s old place, it’ll probably take a bite out of your ass if you try to sit in it.” At Taco’s incredulous stare, he added, “I’m doing you a favor. Trust me.”
“You sure you aren’t on the kick-blocking team?” Taco asked.
Dalton’s shrug was unapologetic. “We learn how to block kicks so ours don’t get blocked. It’s common sense.”
I laughed at their antics, a wave of happiness washing over me at being a part of a team again. Over the past six months of living alone, I’d forgotten how much fun it could be to have roommates.
“Yeah, well, while we wait for the pizza I ordered, I’m going to kick back in my chair.” I nodded at Dalton to vacate the recliner. “Not sorry, dude,” I added with a laugh when I caught his pout.
I’d picked up a case of beer and loaded it in my ride before my new roommates arrived to help with the full move.
It had been covered up with clothes, linens, books, dishes, and whatever else I’d packed.
Their excitement when they’d uncovered it made it worth the price of admission.
Then on the drive over to my new place, I’d put in an order for pizza from Stromboli’s, the team’s pizzeria of choice.
It was the least I could do as a thank-you to my new roommates.
“You bought us a case of beer and ordered pizza?” Taco asked with a grin. “You got a storage unit or something that we need to move tomorrow?”
I snort-laughed at his implication. “Sorry, dude. After today I’m only in the rotation for meal prep with the rest of you.”
“Well, that’s a damn shame.”
The chiming of the front doorbell stopped Taco’s lament in mid-whine. I hopped up and answered the door, paying for the mountain of pies I’d ordered and carrying them into the kitchen where I found Dally polishing off what was left of a sandwich.
“I bought dinner.”
“I heard. But after all that lifting, I needed a snack.” Dally smirked as he downed what was left of his beer, crushed the can on one beefy hand, and tossed it in the trash.
“I see you also got a head start on that case I bought,” I said as I opened large boxes of assorted pizzas in the middle of the kitchen table.
“Needed to wash down my sandwich with something.” His unspoken “duh” was loud.
Shaking my head, I didn’t bother to hide my grin. “Where are the plates?”
Dally gave me a quick tour of the kitchen, which the guys had set up in a fairly standard fashion: plates, bowls, cups, and glasses in the cupboard to the right of the sink; utensils in the drawer below them; pots and pans in the lower cupboard beside the stove; hot pads in the drawer above the pots and pans; napkins, Solo cups, and paper towels on a shelf in the pantry in the corner of the room, beside the door to the back yard.
We set plates and napkins beside the pizzas, and by silent agreement, the four of us loaded up, grabbed napkins and a beer each, and returned to the living room.
“Mario Kart, COD, or Madden—pick your pleasure,” Taco said as he gestured to a game controller on the coffee table in front of my recliner.
“I’m not drunk enough for Mario Kart. Let’s play COD,” I said around a mouthful of succulent meat lover’s pizza.
My teammates exchanged a look before Dalton said, “You know we can play the drinking-game version to help you with your Mario Kart problem.”
“Or Dally and I can kick your asses in Call of Duty,” I offered.
The last time Dalton and Taco invited me over, before I’d moved in, Dally and I had wiped the floor with our teammates in COD.
As expected, once I’d tossed the gauntlet down, neither of them could resist the challenge.
A couple hours later, the pizza and beer were distant memories, as was Dalton and Taco’s dignity after the way Dally and I had creamed them.
Dally stood and stretched. “Well, boys, I’ve got a shit-ton of calculus homework to finish this weekend. Think I’ll try to knock some of it out tonight.”
Taco stacked the used plates on the coffee table and walked them into the kitchen. “Think I’ll see what’s going on over at the SCR house. You two wanna join me?”
“Yeah. Maybe some pledges are in the mood to lose a little money in a friendly poker game,” Dalton said with a smirk.
The mention of poker put Saylor’s face front and center in my mind. Thoughts of that girl had been simmering right under the surface of my consciousness since she dropped me off last night.
“I think I’ll pass,” I said, stifling a yawn.
“Scared we’ll beat you at cards?” Dalton challenged.
“Nah. I need to spend some time planning an epic date—something that’s going to make sure I get a second one.”
“Seriously, dude? With who?” Taco asked as he walked back into the living room.
“The girl whose identity neither of you clowns would give up no matter how nicely I asked.”
“Aw, damn, Cash. You’re walking into a store you can’t afford.” The genuine look of sympathy on Dalton’s face pissed me off.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Saylor’s pure class, and not because she comes from a rich family. That girl is out of everyone’s league.” Taco’s sympathetic expression mirrored Dalton’s.
“Well, she agreed to go out with me, so I guess that puts me in my own league.”
Two pairs of big eyes stared at me.
“All my life I’ve had to compete. I haven’t won every time, but I bat way above average. Saylor is classy. She’s also fun, and I aim to show her such a good time she won’t hesitate to say yes to me twice.”