Chapter 4
4
C ameron
Watching the sunset was one of those things that brought me a sense of calm. With a life as hectic and stressful as mine could be, having simple, free things that brought calm was a gift from God. I didn’t take it for granted.
The coloring of the sky had moved from pale blue to varying shades of pink, purple, and orange. The sun sat just above the horizon, looking like a sunny side up egg. I took a deep breath, then took a swig from my bottle of water. A light breeze skirted across my skin as I took in another deep breath.
“There’s something about the air on Jackson Island,” I mumbled.
The words from her that followed mine came out in almost a whisper. “It’s beautiful here. Carrington was right. When she was trying to convince me to move here, she told me that I would love it. And I do. I really love it here.”
“Where’d you move here from? Chicago?”
“Nah.” Her head shook back and forth in the negative. “I haven’t lived in Chicago in many, many years. I went to college at Walker University in Indiana for undergrad and for grad. After he finished medical school, my ex got an offer for a fellowship in Londynville, Kentucky. So, we moved to the other side of the Ohio River.”
“You’ve been staying in the guest house for what? A few months?”
“Since March. Initially, I was just trying to get away from Vince, my ex, and to a lesser extent, his girlfriend. I wanted to lay low and try to rebuild or re-brand or something. But no sooner than I moved into your guest house, did your mother start riding me about making dresses for her cotillion girls. I hadn’t sewn in months and wasn’t even really sure when I would go back to it, but your mother was—”
“Relentless?” I questioned. “Listen,” I said when she gave me a surprised look, “you don’t have to tell me about my mother. I know that lady. When she wants something, she won’t take no for an answer. How many dresses did she talk you into making?”
“Six for the cotillion. I loved it, though. I’m thankful she kinda forced my hand. Being around the energy of the girls, the excitement of the parents, and the atmosphere of the community center was… everything. I needed it. I needed somebody to celebrate me. Champion me. Your mother did that. The girls and their parents did that. Then there was the fact that when the mothers of some of the debs saw the cotillion dresses on your mom’s Instagram, they started reaching out, wanting to hire me too. Before I knew it, I was back in business.” She folded her legs underneath herself and curled up in the oversized outdoor chair.
“You back on the Gram ? Have you posted the cotillion or deb dresses?”
“Nah. I’m not really ready for that. I’m not ready to open myself back up to that. The ex-client, the one Vince cheated on me with, I told you that she’s a fellow influencer. Her fans would probably attack me and post shit in my comments and in my DMs.”
“Fuck ’em.” It was the first thought that came into my mind. “And I mean that shit with my entire chest. Fuck them! The two of them conspired to take you outta your God-given space. Let them know that they didn’t succeed.”
I could tell that she wasn’t convinced.
“Ay, Brooklyn, if you’re gonna hang with me… be out here on my deck, enjoying cool breezes and sunsets and shit, you’re gonna have to be willing to stand on your shit. Gimme your phone.”
“What?” she asked with a chuckle.
“Give me your phone.”
She handed it over to me. I swiped for the camera, then swung the chair around. The picturesque beauty of God’s creation was behind her. Her expression was plaintive right up until I got ready to take the first snap. That was when Brooklyn came alive. She smiled, smirked, and grinned at the camera. She showed me the twin dimples that lived on each side of her face, her bright white teeth and dancing eyes. She held up two fingers in a peace sign, stuck her tongue out, and made smooching faces.
“Dayum, in love with the camera much?” I teased.
“Nah. It’s just that today was a really good day for me. I delivered the dress to my last and my most favorite deb. Both she and her mom cried. The dress I created made her feel good about herself. Beautiful. All of the other dresses she’d tried on made her feel fat and ugly. That means something to me. That’s why I do what I do—to make women feel good about themselves. Plus, I had a healthy dinner tonight, and I’m getting to watch the sunset from your dope ass, luxurious ass deck.” She sighed, still smiling. “This has been one of the best days that I’ve had in a long time.”
“And you didn’t even have to go to Target,” I quipped.
She sucked in an audible breath. “What? Forget you, Cameron. I thought we were sitting here bonding and stuff. But nah. You just couldn’t wait to talk your shit.”
I chuckled. “Yo, you know I don’t even know what you meant by that shit. How do you find joy in Target?”
“I was in a dark place, sir. My home life was a nightmare. There was a dark cloud hanging over my head. Target is clean and always brightly lit. I think they pump something into the air there that makes a serene calm fall over women. It was the one place where my anxiety gave me a break.”
I sent the pictures I’d taken from her phone to my phone. “What’s your handle?”
“The dot Brooklyn dot Waye.” She watched me type on my phone. “What are you doing, Cameron? You’re not about to post those pictures, are you?” Realization washed over her features. “You’re not about to tag me, are you? Please don’t tag me. My page is public. People are gonna think we’re together.” She shook her head sadly. “You’re gonna get me dragged.”
“I’m gonna make you relevant again, lil mama. Cotillion and deb seasons are over until next year. You need some clients. You need some orders coming in. You can’t survive on the money you made this summer until next summer.”
“You don’t know how much your mom paid me to make those cotillion dresses, or how much those deb moms paid.”
“Do you want to get your swag back, or nah? Are you trying to sew? Are you trying to be a seamstress again, or nah?”
“I can’t have clients coming to your property. I don’t even want clients coming to Jackson Island.” She sighed heavily. “I don’t really trust clients right now. Deep inside me, I feel like they’ll bring their bad juju here. I’m happy here. I don’t want to—”
I cut her off, because she was starting to spiral. “Get a small storefront in Charleston or Columbia or something. Fly to them. Charge them for the consultation. Come on. There’s ways to make this work for you.”
She sighed again. “Here’s the funny thing. When I was doing this for real, like really grinding at it, I would’ve given anything for an NBA player to post me on their IG. Now here I am, begging you not to post me on your IG. That’s stupid. Absolutely post my pictures, Cameron and definitely tag my page.”
I finished typing the caption on the collection of pictures and posted them.
“Will you take a selfie with me?”
I squinted at her. “Why do you seem unsure? You think I won’t be willing to post a selfie with you after I just posted you all over my page?”
“I guess not.”
I turned my chair around so that my back was to the ocean just like hers. I leaned my face close to hers. She took a series of pictures.
“Thank you,” she told me.
“You’re welcome.” I spun her chair around so that she was facing the ocean again.
The sun had sunk lower, creating a nice backdrop.
“I could live here.”
I cut my gaze to her. “You do live here, shorty.”
Her giggle floated on the breeze. “I meant here on your deck.” She paused. “My notifications are blowing up. What did you post?”
I wasn’t sure why she asked me, because she was already navigating to her page.
“ When the homie starts to see in herself what you see in her ,” she read aloud, before turning to me. “Thanks, Cameron. Even though we both know you don’t see anything in me, because you don’t really see me.”
I threw up my hand in mock frustration. “Aww, come on, girl. How’re you gonna say something like that when we’ve been having a good night? We’ve eaten together, chopped it up, you’ve told me your secrets, we’ve shot the shit. Of course I see you.”
“You just started seeing me earlier this week. You never saw me in the past.
“Stop bringing up old shit.”
We were both quiet as the sun finally dipped below the horizon.
“That was beautiful. We should make a date to watch the sunset together every Friday that you’re free.”
“Why we gotta wait ’til Friday?” I touched my phone to hers as it rested on her thigh. When the contact card came up, I tapped it to save her information.
She did the same.
Saturday was my mother’s debutante ball. I made it my business to shut my phone off, park my truck in the garage, lock all my doors and hide in the crib all day. In years past, she always managed to find something for me to do on Debutante Day (as she called it). Some years, I would need to escort young ladies whose fathers were unable to attend. Some years, I was on the set-up and break-down crew. Other years, I had to be the impromptu DJ, waiter, or gopher. I wasn’t interested in doing any of that. Instead, I spent my day chilling, sleeping, playing Call of Duty and working on restoring my fifty-year-old classic car.
My head was under the hood of the black Plymouth Barracuda when my phone buzzed in my pocket indicating that I had an incoming text message. I grabbed the towel I had been using to wipe my sweat and ran it across my entire face. I’d turned my phone back on around five o’clock, once I was sure that the debutante ball was over. It was now around seven, and the number flashing across my screen wasn’t my mother’s, so I read the message.
Brooklyn Way: Hey. It’s Saturday night and you’re probably busy, but if you aren’t, do you wanna watch the sunset tonight?
Me: I’m doing stuff, but you can still come through and watch the sunset.
Brooklyn Way: Nah, it’s cool. I don’t want to bother you.
Me: If you bring food, you definitely won’t be bothering me.
Brooklyn Way: I don’t have food. All I have is me. You got NBA money. You can order us something.
I had to chuckle at that response.
Me: You’ve got cotillion and debutante money. Your treat.
Brooklyn Way: You’re about to be watching the sunset by yourself.
More laughter from me.
Me: And you’re about to be watching the reflection of the moon off that pool back there.
Brooklyn Way: Don’t worry about it. I’m pretty sure I can see the sunset from the beach. I’ll head over there.
Me: Cool. Enjoy!
Brooklyn Way: (Frowny face emoji) Are you really acting like this?
Me: You’re the one being a spoiled brat, lil mama. I’ve been told you to come on.
I watched the dots appear and disappear at the bottom of the screen. For some strange reason, I could hear her thoughts.
Me: Did you forget how to get over here from the guest house?
Brooklyn Way: Maybe.
I gave her directions and a few moments later, I saw a feminine figure come into view at the bottom of the expansive driveway.
“Hey.” A light sheen of sweat covered her face as she greeted me.
“Hey.” I cast a quick but thorough glance at her, taking her in completely. She wore what looked like a linen set—a short white miniskirt with a pattern of green palm trees, and a matching top that was tied in the front and showed her stomach. I didn’t know much about fabrics, but I knew when a garment was quality. I had a personal tailor back in Chicago who cut my suits and draped me in some of the finest textiles for important events and appearances. Quality was in the hand of the piece and the way it laid on the body. Brooklyn’s clothes were quality.
Not only was her clothing nice, Brooklyn was nice. She was pretty with skin the color of creamy peanut butter that looked smooth as silk. Though she often hid her deep hazel eyes behind sunglasses, I knew that they were expressive and kind. She could look at you in a way that made you feel like she would have compassion for all your burdens. My favorite thing about her face was the barely-there smattering of freckles just under each eye—oh yeah, and that small mouth with those pouty ass lips. Her mouth looked almost too small to accommodate my dick, but the plushness of those lips made me sure that the stretching would be worth the struggle.
I shook my head, because I had no business thinking about my dick in her mouth.
She was speaking when I tuned back in.
“Repeat that,” I requested, turning my attention back to the car.
“I asked if working on restoring this car is why you missed the debutante ball.”
“Familiarity is why I missed the debutante ball. I am familiar with absolutely everything involved in the production, and I want nothing to do with it. You went to the ball?”
“As the official seamstress of the ball. Your mother paid me to be present to fix and/or address any problems that the debs or their escorts might have with their attire.”
I gave her my attention. “And how much of that did you do?”
She seemed to think about it before replying, “Very little, actually.”
“But you were busy all day, weren’t you?”
“Yeah. I was fixing hair, consulting on makeup, advising escorts on where to stand, placing menu cards on tables before it began. I was just a… jack of all trades at the ball.”
“Now you understand why I purposely missed it. Can you imagine a lifetime of filling in… unpaid, wherever my mother needed you? I’ve been everything from the DJ to the valet to the photographer.”
“Well, I won’t pretend not to understand how years of doing what I did today could get old quickly, but I have to be honest… I loved it! I’ve never seen a debutante ball up close and in person. I thought that was something that went out in the 1960s.”
“Debutante balls are still a thing on Jackson Island and in the surrounding communities. I mean, the only thing that’s changed is that they used to present the women who were ready for marriage. Now, it’s more of a rite of passage into young adulthood. Ninety percent of my mom’s debs are headed to college in the fall. The ball kind of represents them closing the door on girlhood and stepping into their new life.”
“It was fascinating. I loved watching those girls and their fathers go through all of the rituals. They must spend months learning what to do, what to say, where to stand. And that little dance they did?” She shook her head as a grin covered her face. “I wanna have a daughter just so she can participate in the ball. And your mother, how she knows all of that… elegant and regal stuff. I loved it.”
I couldn’t help smiling at her, because she was practically giddy, telling me about her experience. I closed the hood of the car. “Come on. Let’s head up to the house before we miss the grand finale.”
She followed me into my house.
“Ay, make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.” I made a beeline for the bathroom, took a piss, washed my hands, then washed my face. After that, I exchanged the greasy, sweaty T-shirt I was wearing for a clean one.
When I made it back out to the main living area, Brooklyn was still standing where I left her. “You could’ve gone out to the deck without me.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Nah, I was good waiting for you.”
I grabbed both of us an ice-cold bottle of water and headed for the deck.
“I’ve had two really good days in a row,” she told me as she dropped her thickness into the same swivel chair she’d sat in the day before.
“Is that a record?” I took a drink from my bottle.
“Not sure. For a while, the bad days were so overwhelming that I didn’t notice or acknowledge the good ones. But, like I told you yesterday, I need to be more intentional. Oh yeah, those posts you made last night blew my socials up. Some of everybody is in my DMs asking if I’m gonna starttaking clients again.”
“What are you thinking?”
She hesitated a little bit. “Someday I probably will, but right now I’m enjoying laying low on Jackson Island.”
The two of us sat silently while the sun slowly dropped below the horizon. We kept sitting there while the ocean went black and all the solar powered lights, lanterns, and tiki torches came to life, illuminating the backyard.
The night was breezy and warm. The wind carried humidity in it. I could feel the heaviness in the air and smell it in the atmosphere.
“It’s gonna rain,” I commented while looking out into the pitch blackness of the night.
Brooklyn inhaled deeply. “It does smell like rain. I love the rain. When I was younger, I used to love playing in the rain… being in the rain. I used to always find myself getting accidentally caught in rainstorms.”
“How do you accidentally get caught in a rainstorm?” I was curious.
“Well, you wait until it starts raining to decide that you just have to have something from the store right now. Or if you’re out, like at the mall or something, you decide that the right time to venture out to the parking lot is when the rain is the heaviest.”
I chuckled at her explanation, mainly because even having only known her for two days, I could definitely see her being that person. “I can tell you’re not from the coast. Heavy rainstorms make us nervous. Even when it’s not hurricane season. They trigger us.”
“So, do y’all just hunker down indoors until the storm passes?”
“Some of us.”
“I don’t know. Rain is like… my love language. I get really… alive. I want to be out in it. I want to feel the drops hitting my skin. You can’t tell anybody what I’m about to tell you, Cameron. Okay?”
“Okay.” I agreed easily. First of all, I had no idea what she was about to say. Secondly, we didn’t really know the same people, besides Carrington. Who was I going to tell?”
“My fantasy is to have sex in the rain.”
I could admit that I hadn’t expected her to say that, but then again, it was always the ones you didn’t expect that ended up shocking you. “Word?”
“Yeah. I already get a thrill from the feel of rain falling on my skin. I can only imagine how… intensified that thrill would be if the hands of my lover were also touching me. Like the wetness of our kisses mixing with the wetness of the water. My clothes sticking to my body—”
“Damn, you’ve thought this out.”
“Of course, I’ve thought it out; it’s my fantasy. I’ve worked it all out in my mind.”
She had the shit all worked out in her mind? Shit, now I was working out how to make that happen for her. “Brooklyn, you talk too fucking much, because now you have my mind going.”
She giggled. It sounded a little nervous to me. “No.” She stretched the word out. “That’s not what I was trying to do. I was just saying.”
“Lil mama, if it starts raining while we out here…” I let my thoughts trail off.
She guffawed. “Oh my goodness, Cameron. Stop playing.”
“Ain’t nobody playing but you.”
“I’m not…”
Before she could finish the thought, a flash of lightning lit up the night sky, followed by thunder and drops falling.
“Not the sky opening up at your command,” I teased at the same time she jumped up from the chair. I watched her silently, almost sure that she was about to head for the house. Instead, she sat on my lap. Her thick thighs straddled my legs.
“Would you kiss me? I wanna experience what it feels like to be kissed in the rain. I’ve never been in a—”
“Say less.” I took her mouth.
I’d never had a romantic relationship with rain. As I had told her, rain could be contentious living on the coast. You never knew when a light rain shower was going to turn problematic, particularly during the summer months. But I had to admit that it was a heady ass feeling to kiss in the rain, especially when the rain was as hot as the rain falling on us was.
While we were kissing, I felt Brooklyn’s hands moving between us to get the blouse she was wearing untied. Though I usually would’ve helped my partner get out of any clothing they were wearing, I wanted to be careful. I had a lot to lose and I didn’t know Brooklyn. I didn’t help her. She didn’t seem to need it, though. She had that shirt off in a few seconds flat.
“Oh, this is better than any fantasy I could’ve come up with,” she told me once she broke the kiss. “I want you to touch me everywhere. We don’t know how long the rain is gonna last. I wanna feel everything.” She reached behind herself and unfastened her bra.
When her heavy ass titties tumbled out and brushed against the wet fabric of my T-shirt, I took her nipples in my fingers and squeezed the shit out of them. She groaned and bounced on my groin. I couldn’t resist. I pulled one of her mounds into my mouth, sucking hungrily.
When I released it, I spoke. “Do you want foreplay in the rain, Brooklyn, or do you wanna get fucked in the rain?”
“Fucked.”
Her decision was swift. Before I could really even process it, she was standing from my lap, pulling off her panties and hiking her skirt over her ass. I was with it. I quickly lifted my ass from the chair to pull down my joggers and my drawers. I sat back down in the chair, and Brooklyn hovered over me, rubbing the lips and entrance of her vagina over the head of my dick. I plunged my hands into her hair. Her once big, bouncy curls were now sticking to her head and face. She looked beautiful. I pulled her face to mine and kissed her deeply while rain pelted us, and her hot pussy created inebriating friction.
Reluctantly, I pulled away from her. “I thought you were trying to get fucked before the rain stops? Why’re you playing with it?”
“Because it all feels so good. It’s my fantasy and it all feels even better than I imagined.”
She slid down on my dick. The tight, moistness of her caught me off guard. I sucked in a deep breath, while she released a shuddering one.
“Cameron.” Her voice was a whisper into the wind—breathy and light.
I bit down on her shoulder, because there were so many sensations hitting me at once that I felt like I was gonna bust any second, and I didn’t want to. I wanted to experience all the sensations as long as possible. Every one of my senses was activated and engaged. Of course I could feel her pussy. I could see the effects of being outside in the rain. I could smell the brininess of the ocean, the sweat from both of our bodies, and the breeze. I could hear her pants, the thud of raindrops hitting the deck, the sway of the leaves on the trees. And I could taste the sweetness of her mouth and the saltiness from the sweat on her shoulder.
She was slowly rolling her hips to a rhythm that was clearly playing in her own head. “Uhhhhh.” Her moan was the most sensual thing I had ever heard.
I needed to fuck this girl, so I stood up with our bodies connected and moved her over to the chaise lounge. Once I had her on her back, I dug into the pussy while the rain pummeled us. She was my first experience with raw sex. I was the flirty type, but I’d never been the careless type or the reckless type. My parents had drilled into me since puberty how important it was for me to protect myself. To make the choices that gave me the best outcomes. I’d been a stellar student of their lessons.
I wasn’t a cheater. I didn’t like the duplicitous nature of cheating. My dad taught me that a man was a man and that a man’s word was his bond. Lying to your woman didn’t leave a lot of room for your word to be your bond, so I didn’t do that. I preferred to stay single, fucking whoever I wanted to fuck, without any dishonesty or fraud. But always with condoms between. A woman’s status in my life never mattered when it came to wearing condoms during sex… until now.
Brooklyn’s moans were going right into my ear and the shit was doing something to me. I needed to back up off her before I lost myself, but at the same time, I wanted to bury myself more deeply in her and stay there.
“Cameron.” She made my name sound like the lyric to a song.
I looked down at her. Her expression was blissful—her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted, her brows furrowed in concentration as she matched me stroke for stroke. For some inexplicable reason, I kissed her lips. I knew it was a mistake as I was doing it, but she was so open and responsive to everything we were doing.
Another flash of lightning caused the sky to brighten for a millisecond, before the roar of thunder crackled and the intensity of the summer storm picked up. The raindrops pounded my back as I pounded into Brooklyn’s pussy, temporarily losing myself in the heavy raindrops. I had never once considered having sex in the middle of a downpour, but after experiencing it, I knew I would never look at rain in the same way. Or maybe even sex in the same way.
I lowered my head, pulling her pert nipple into my mouth and sucking it hungrily.
“Kiss me, please.” She panted her command,. I obliged kissing her deeply.
The wind picked up and so did my stroke. I thrusted into her as if I was trying to put her through the chaise lounge. She screamed unintelligible words as her pussy clamped down on my dick and I knew she was cumming. I kept pumping her, lifting her legs onto my shoulders, and repeatedly burying myself in her hidden treasure. Finally, the familiar feeling began to brew inside of me—the ringing in my ears, the tightening of my muscles. At the very last second, I managed to reluctantly pull out of her and release my load on her stomach.
“Shit!” I kissed her lips that were swollen from all of the kissing we’d been doing since we started fucking.
Her eyes were closed. Her chest heaved with each inhale and exhale. Brooklyn came off as wholesome, but her little ass was a sex goddess. I wiggled my face into the crook of her neck and she wrapped her arms around me.
“Shit,” I repeated.
The rain continued to fall on us… well, mostly on me since my body was stretched over hers. And we held each other.
I fucked Brooklyn as many times as she would let me on Saturday night. Once the rain let up, I brought her into the house. We fucked some more, dozing off together in my bed. Around two o’clock, after a particularly slow and intimate round, she divulged to me that she had a flight at six o’clock that morning. She was going to someplace called Fenwick, Kentucky to spend Father’s Day with her grandfather. I reluctantly came up off her and drove her to the guest house because the lawn was too wet and soggy for us to walk across it. Once she had showered, dressed, and packed, I drove her to the airport.
It was tradition for my mother to hold the debutante ball on the day before Father’s Day. After church, Carrington and I went home with my parents. Every year, my mother did a huge Father’s Day Luncheon at their house. She invited 25 percent of the island to the affair and always expected Carrington and me to help. Since I’d blown off helping her at the deb ball the day before, there was no way I could get away with not helping with the Father’s Day Luncheon, but my mind wasn’t anywhere on the backyard setup. It was on Brooklyn.
When it came to women, I had the tendency to not put up the necessary walls that would prevent a connection from happening. Personally, I felt like it had something to do with the fact that I was the product of a set of boy/girl twins. The closest person to me on Earth was of the opposite gender. I didn’t find the behavior of women confusing. I wasn’t afraid of their emotions. Their aggression or assertiveness didn’t threaten me or my manhood. I was cool with them being better at some things… a lot of things than men. I actually liked listening to them. Those were gifts Carrington gave me by being my best friend. I couldn’t help but wonder if a connection would happen between Brooklyn and me. I wondered if her mind was on me the way mine was on her.
While I was thinking about Brooklyn, my father, Will, and Bryce joined me in my parents’ living room.
“Boy,” my father said to me, “get up out of my recliner and go fix that backyard up for my party. Today is my day. You aren’t a father and you’re sitting here in my recliner. Get up.”
I chuckled, but I also stood to my feet proffering the seat to my dad. He was right; it was his day.
As I exchanged dap with both my cousin and my future brother-in-law, my mother entered the living room.
“You want us to start with setting up the tables, right, Auntie?” Will questioned.
My father’s brow furrowed as he looked over at his wife. “You sure it’s not too wet out there from all of that rain last night, Madeline?”
At the mention of the prior night’s rain, a smile came over my face. I tamped it down. I didn’t need any over-observant family members questioning me about it.
“I had Jorge cover the entire lawn with a tarp after he mowed yesterday. He should’ve come by while we were at church and removed it. The lawn should be perfectly fine. Hurry up and get those tables put up, boys. The caterer will be here after while and Carrington and I still have to get them dressed.”
I pulled out my phone and texted Brooklyn as we walked out to the shed to get the tables.
Me: Hey.
Brooklyn Way: Hey.
Me: Was your grandfather surprised to see you?
Brooklyn Way: He was. I saw tears in his eyes.
Me: Ay, what’d you do to me that has you on my mind like this.
Brooklyn Way: * Blushing emoji* I’m not sure. It’s raining here, so my panties have been wet since I landed.
Me: I hope it rains the day you get back.
I hesitated before I sent the next text. I didn’t want to offend her, but I knew I needed to say something.
Me: Last night was a lot of rain and bodily fluids mixing together. I nutted on your stomach countless times. The rain could’ve caused it to end up anywhere. You think you should pick up a Plan B?
Brooklyn Way: Never even thought about that. I’m on birth control. I have the patch.
Me: Good. South Carolina is rainy as hell during the summer. You’re gonna need it.