Chapter 30 Ace
Ace
“Aight, that’s game!”
Me and my boys ran a good one today, but it's too fucking cold out here to sit and talk. So we head over to a sports bar near the court and post up near the pool tables.
I’m sitting here listening to my boys share the shit that’s going on in their lives, the happy shit, and I can’t say a word about my news.
None of these niggas can hold water, that’s for damn sure. And now that Bron’s girl hangs out with Raya, that’s an even faster route for the news to take straight back to her.
But also?
It’s still early enough for something to go wrong, and after the pain of losing Elijah…I don’t even wanna think about it.
And that’s all before I even get to the part where my wife threatens me every day that she’s gonna get rid of it. Which I guess she's probably justified in saying, because I forced this on her in the first place.
This shit is a fucking disaster.
So I just smile and nod and keep my mouth shut, because what the fuck else am I gonna do?
The house is empty when I get home. No car in the garage. No Raya in the kitchen.
It feels wrong.
I’m home. Where u at?
Wifey
I’m out
Obviously. Where tho?
I’m with Tiff
That’s odd. Bron didn’t mention it, although I guess it’s possible he didn’t know. Tiff is just his situation. Raya’s my wife.
I’m not surprised when she doesn’t answer my phone call.
Turn your location on
No. I’ll be home later. Don’t wait up
Oh, word? That’s what we doin’?
Yeah, it ain't goin' down like this.
I dial up my boy.
“Bron. Aye, where your girl at tonight?”
“Tiff?”
“You got another girl I don’t know about?”
“Nah. You know what? She told me and I forgot. She just be talkin’, man." He laughs at that. "I guess it’s girls night or whatever. Why you wanna know?”
“Raya’s with her.”
“And?”
How do I tell this nigga my wife won’t tell me where she is? I could tell Titus and it not be no shit, but Bron has a different orientation to the chaos in my life. Titus revels in it, but Bron’s the kind of friend who would try to make me want better for myself.
“Her phone died,” I lie. “Her car’s been acting up. I’m just trying to make sure she’s good.”
He’s quiet for a minute. “Didn’t you just buy her that car?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Aight. Lemme go back through these text messages.”
I wait impatiently, then he comes back and says, “They went to Gold Bar.”
Gold bar? That doesn’t seem like Raya’s kind of place.
“’Preciate you,” I tell him, already grabbing my keys off the table. “Aye, why you don’t be listening when your girl tells you shit?”
Bron laughs again. “It ain’t got shit to do with me.”
“So you don’t actually like this girl, then.”
“She cool. We’re just talking right now, man. It ain’t that deep.”
“Do you want it to be?”
“Eventually, I guess.”
“How that work?" I say as I exit the door to the garage. "Cuz if you start out a relationship not giving a fuck, when is the giving a fuck supposed to begin?”
“Well we can’t all be out here fallin’ in love at first sight like yo ass.”
“It ain’t about love.” I slide into the car and press the button to start. “You so nonchalant, it feels like you don’t even like the bitch. What you waitin’ on?”
“Yo, why do you care?”
“I don’t. But you always say you wanna settle down and find somebody who gon' love yo dumb ass, but now you got a girl in your life and you treatin’ her like the homies. Shit, you treatin’ her worse than the homies. You actually pay attention when we talk.”
“Nigga, you’re boring me.”
I pull out of the garage. “Look, you always givin’ out advice, so let me give you some. You listening?”
“Yeah, I’m listening.”
“Take an interest in her life, man. Like she at the spot right now, probably got a bunch of niggas in her face buying her drinks and shit. Get in the race, man. Compete.”
“Nah, never that. What, I’m supposed to show up there and profess my love?”
“Nah. Text her, ask her if she’s having fun with her girls, send her some drink money. Somethin’, nigga.”
He's quiet for a minute. “I think I’m good.”
“Nah, I’ma tell you what you are. You a lonely, dry-dick motherfucker who puts his ego before pussy. Man, this shit is so easy when you actually listen to what these hoes be sayin’. It’s a cheat code. Just…do what they ask you to do. That’s it.”
“You in the car?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m Gucci. I can guarantee you I’m fuckin’ tonight. We’re talking about you.”
“Alright, man, I hear you.”
“Do you? I ain’t Tiff, nigga. Listen to me.”
He guffaws. “Whatever, man. Go fuck your wife.”
“Yeah.”
After we hang up, I head to Gold Bar to make sure my wife understands the order of things.