Chapter 25 – Jordie #2
Two lines appear between Phoenix’s eyebrows. “Maybe not even then. She informed me the other day that she has a boyfriend named Big Dawg, and I almost had a heart attack.”
“What kind of name is Big Dawg?” I ask, taking another sip of water.
Phoenix jabs his chopsticks in my direction. “That’s what I said. She told me her friends told her that’s his street name. Can you believe that shit? Why the hell would a little kid need a street name?”
I cover my mouth with my napkin to hide my smirk at his reddening face and indignant scowl. “He’s probably dealing crayons from the back of his tricycle.”
He nods thoughtfully as if this might be a real possibility. “Maybe I should have a talk with his parents.”
“Phoenix,” I say, stifling my laughter because he’s blowing this way out of proportion. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Kids that age say someone is their boyfriend or girlfriend without even knowing what it really means. I doubt they’ve even said more than five words to each other.”
“Hmm,” he says, unimpressed. “That’s what Lorraine said when I asked her about it.
Apparently they were at the park, and the boy’s soccer ball rolled over to where Reece and her friends were playing.
Reece kicked it back to him, and then her and the other girls had some kind of preschool pow-wow and decided Big Dawg is Reece’s boyfriend. ” He wrinkles his nose as if disgusted.
“See? They haven’t even talked to each other,” I soothe. “I’m sure it’s fine unless he’s a teenager hanging around the little kids’ park or something.”
“No, he looks to be about five.”
“Ah, you’ve done your research on Big Dawg. Did you hire a private investigator or something?”
Phoenix’s eyes widen. “Do you think I should?”
I burst into laughter. “No, goofball. I was kidding. How do you even know what he looks like?”
“Lorraine took a few pictures of the girls playing, and he was in the background.” He pulls out his phone and flicks through it, zooming in on a photo. “Here. He looks suspicious, doesn’t he?”
I study the picture of a darling little boy in round glasses with his dark hair slicked over to one side. He’s wearing khaki pants, a button-down blue shirt, and a cute little bowtie.
“This is Big Dawg?” I ask skeptically. Phoenix nods, and I shake my head, handing the phone back. “He looks like young Sheldon.”
He scrutinizes the photo, his head tilted to one side. “Yeah, from that TV show. He’s probably some little genius who will grow up to manufacture meth like Walter White.”
“Or he could grow up to be a brilliant scientist like your brother. You could even hire him to work in the Hale lab.”
By the flat press of his lips, Phoenix appears completely unimpressed with this suggestion. “Maybe I should call the police and report him.”
“Ohhh, that sounds like a good idea.” I deepen my voice and pretend to hold a phone to my ear. “Officer, I’d like to report a potential future drug dealer. Yes, he’s about three-and-a-half feet tall, so you might want to bring backup.”
A smile toys with Phoenix’s lips before he finally breaks into a grin. “So you’re saying I’m overreacting.”
I hold my finger and thumb a half inch apart. “Maybe just a little.”
“Thanks for going with me tonight,” Phoenix says as we walk down the hallway of my apartment building.
“Thanks for inviting me and for the shoes.” I waggle the box in my left hand.
We stop in front of my door, and I turn to face him. At that moment, the door across the hall opens, and I hear my name. “Hey, Jordie. Do you want—Oh.”
Phoenix and I turn to find two of my Dragons teammates, Carrie Broxton and Sabrina Lee, standing there.
Carrie has her curly hair knotted on top of her head while Sabrina’s box braids fall well below her shoulders.
Their heads are swiveling back and forth between Phoenix and me like they’re being controlled by the same puppeteer.
“Hey, did y’all need something?” I prompt, and they both shake their heads in unison before dashing back into Carrie’s apartment and slamming the door. Weirdos.
Phoenix chuckles and turns his attention back to me. “Can I pick you up at the same time next week?”
“That sounds good.”
Our gazes lock, and we’re standing so close, I can smell the sweet musk of his cologne.
My brain is saying to tell him goodbye and go inside.
Another part of my anatomy, however, is aching to drag him inside and do very nasty things with him.
I clench my thighs, and Phoenix’s eyes drop to the movement before meandering slowly back up my body.
His gaze leaves a trail of hot goosebumps in its wake.
“I think we make pretty damn good partners,” Phoenix says, his voice doing that low husky thing that makes me think of the sounds he makes when he’s coming.
“Really good,” I breathe, and now I’m definitely not talking about dancing.
There’s a thump and a loud ow from inside Carrie’s door, and I reflexively take a step back. Phoenix shakes his head as if coming out of daze and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his black athletic pants.
“Guess I’ll see you next week then.” His hand drags down my arm and gives my fingers a brief squeeze.
“Next week,” I reply, unable to say much more because my tongue is tied up in knots that would make a sailor jealous.
Phoenix takes two steps backward down the corridor and winks at me. “Make sure to keep your heeps loose,” he tells me in an eerily accurate impression of Boris.
You could come inside and loosen those bad boys up for me, I think, but luckily I’m able to keep from saying the words out loud. I unlock my door and slip inside, leaning my back against the wood surface and closing my eyes.
“Good lord, that man is the king of innuendos,” I say aloud before setting my shoe box on the coffee table and flopping onto my cushy gold-and-red-patterned couch.
Approximately two minutes later, a knock sounds on my door.
I leap up like my couch is on fire and dash to the door, images of Phoenix on the other side—with his muscular forearm resting on the doorframe—playing through my dirty little brain.
But of course it’s not him. Sabrina and Carrie push their way past me, Carrie holding a six pack of beer and Sabrina with a gigantic bowl of freshly popped popcorn. Then they sit their asses on my couch, leaving room for me in the middle.
“Come on in and make yourselves at home,” I say with mock hospitality, still standing with the doorknob in my hand.
“Thanks. We brought snacks,” Carrie says, ignoring my sarcasm.
“What was that loud thump in your apartment a few minutes ago?” I question, closing the door and locking it.
Sabrina points an accusing finger at Carrie. “She pushed me.”
“You were hogging the peephole,” she argues back.
“I was trying to see what was going on out there.”
“Well I wanted to see too.”
“Would you two numbnuts stop arguing?” I snap. “I swear I think you’re long-lost sisters.”
They put on matching expressions of chagrin before Carrie gestures to the seat between them. “Come on and tell us what you were doing looking all cozy with Mr. Hale.”
“What’s his name? Helix?” Sabrina questions.
Carrie shakes her head, making her messy bun wobble precariously. “Nah, Helix wears glasses. That was the marketing dude, Phoenix.” She looks to me for confirmation, and I dip my chin once in acknowledgement.
Then I plant myself between my friends. Might as well get this over with because I know these two nosy heifers won’t leave till I give them something.
Sabrina thunks the bowl of popcorn onto my lap while Carrie pops the tops on three light beers. Then they both stare at me expectantly.
I shove out a sigh. “You know I went on that trip to Philly last week?” They both nod, and Sabrina shoves an ungodly amount of popcorn into her mouth. “Well, I slept with Phoenix.”
They both scream, Sabrina spraying popcorn bits all over, and I cover my ears with my hands.
“Holy shit, you finally gave it up,” Carrie squeals, picking up some popcorn and putting two kernels in my mouth like I’m a good dog who earned a treat.
“How was it? Did you come? Does he have a big pecker?”
“How old is he?” Sabrina tags on. “And ditto on the pecker question.”
Resting the cool bottle against my lips, I tip it back and take a long swallow of beer.
“It was really good. Our first night there, I got a little tipsy and blurted out that I wanted him to take my virginity.” Both of my friends are cramming popcorn into their mouths like it’s going out of style, completely in tune with my story.
“So we did it the next night. I expected it to just be kind of wham, bam, thank you, ma’am, but he…” They’re both staring at me intently, so I continue. “He made it special. We had a nice dinner, and he had candles and roses everywhere.”
“Awww,” Sabrina says around a mouthful. “Our little Jordie got romanced.”
I aim a flat stare at her. “Little Jordie? I’m almost half a foot taller than you.”
In response, she sticks more popcorn in my mouth and flips me off. “Don’t be height-ist, Jordie. Now, spill the rest of the tea.”
Rolling my eyes, I point at my full mouth. When I’m done chewing, I take another drink of beer. “It was really good. Hurt like hell at first because he’s a lot bigger than I expected.” I try to remember the other questions they lobbed at me like tennis balls. “And yes, I came. More than once.”
My friends high five right in front of my face, and I swat at their hands. “How old is Phoenix?” Carrie asks.
“Thirty-two.”
“Ah, a nine-year age gap,” Sabrina comments. “Did you call him Daddy?”
“Eww, no,” I tell her, giving her an elbow to the ribs. “He does have a little girl though.”
“So you’re going to be a stepmommy,” Carrie croons, hand over her heart. “That’s so awesome.”
A grunt of frustration scrapes the inside of my throat. “I’m not going to be a stepmommy. We’re not even dating.”