Chapter 10
HUNCHO
The moment Josie opened the door for me, she started. “Don’t think because I asked you if you wanted to go to Top Golf that I asked you out on a date because it wasn’t that.”
With a chuckle, I surveyed her sexy ass body. “Is that right? Why you couldn’t ask me out on a date though? What’s wrong with that?”
Anybody watching would have thought I called Josie out of her name by the way she jerked her head back and stared at me like I was crazy.
“If I did ask a man to hang out on what I consider to be a date, it would only be after we’d already gone out on a date that he asked me out on first.” My brow hiked as she stepped outside and locked her door.
“So, we’re hanging out, but it’s not what you consider a date?”
“Hell no.”
“And what would make it a date?”
“If we’d already been out on a date that you’d asked me out on.”
“You are seriously demented.” I shook my head. “For clarification, I never asked you out because you swear, I’m a kid, and you’re way too old for me.”
Josie stopped walking abruptly as I opened the car door for her with a smirk on my face. She glared at me with an expression that told me she wanted to knock me out. “Strike one, Baby Boy,” she warned as she eased past me and got inside the car.
“Damn, I didn’t even do anything.” In the car, I glanced over at her. “You look nice.”
When Josie simply stuck her middle finger up, I laughed.
“Yo you hell. The way you feel about me calling you old is the way I feel about you calling me a kid. I’m just not as aggressive as you, but I don’t like it. So, how about we both stop the age jokes?”
Again, Josie didn’t respond. She stuck her tongue out at me making me shake my head.
“Childish.”
After a few minutes, she spoke. “How have you been feeling? Anymore flare ups?”
“Nah not since the day I came by your crib. I’m hoping that shit doesn’t come back any time soon.
I’ve been drinking ginger and turmeric shots and eating bananas because they have potassium and are good for muscle cramps and shit.
I’m also trying to eat more anti-inflammatory foods and cut back on sugar which is hard as hell. ”
“What about alcohol?” she inquired making me sigh.
“I’m trying man.” I ran a hand over my waves. The closer it got to my court date the more I wanted to drink, but I was trying to go at least four days out of the week without indulging. That shit was harder than I had anticipated it to be.
“That’s all you can do is try. I think it’s pretty dope that you realize you’re drinking too much and trying to correct it. That’s very mature of you.”
I chuckled lowly. “Thanks. So why are you slumming it?” Taking my eyes off the road I peeked over at her. “I’m the only person that you could think of to not ask out on a date to Top Golf?”
Josie smiled. “Pretty much. My sister is up under her man because we’re leaving tomorrow.
My best friend has the flu, and one of my other friends is home with a sick child.
There are a few guys that I’ve either gone out on dates with or stood up, but I want to have fun. Most of them give me the ick.”
“Damn, it’s like that?” my brows hiked. “The ick?”
“Yes, the ick. You know you see a man out briefly, he asks for your number, and he looks okay, seems okay, so you give him the number. But after a few conversations it’s like ehhhhhh, you give me the ick.”
“And what do these men do to give you the ick?”
“Talk sexual too soon. Try to take me on cheap dates. Try to chill at my home or invite me to theirs instead of asking me out on a date. Divulging icky information like having six kids and five baby mamas. That kind of thing.”
“I guess those are ick worthy things, but you give picky as hell vibes.”
“If I am, I don’t see the problem. I don’t have to settle for anything I don’t like just for the sake of having someone. If I never find the man that doesn’t give me the ick then that’s just how it’s supposed to be.”
I chose not to entertain the topic further.
We weren’t on a date, but we were about to hang out, and we’d had sex.
Obviously, I didn’t give her the ick if she asked me to play golf with her, so a win was a win.
Josie was a woman with her shit together that knew what she wanted.
I couldn’t be mad at her for that. And if she truly thought I was too young for her, I couldn’t be mad at that either.
Clearly, she didn’t think I was too young to slide up in that pussy.
“Mind if I smoke?” I asked when we were about fifteen minutes away from Top Golf.”
“This is your car.” She shrugged.
I grabbed the blunt from behind my ear and the lighter from the cup holder.
I had smoked before I got dressed, so my clothes wouldn’t be smelling like weed, but I didn’t plan on drinking.
If I wasn’t going to drink, I needed to boost my high.
It had only been two hours since I’d smoked.
I wasn’t completely sober, but I wasn’t as high as I wanted to be.
I finished the blunt two minutes before arriving at my destination.
Standing outside the car I sprayed some cologne.
It wouldn’t totally eliminate the smell, but it would get the job halfway done.
Shit, everyone in there had smelled weed before.
Inside, we were led to our table. It didn’t take long for a server to come over and when Josie ordered a Sprite, I glanced over at her. “Don’t feel like you can’t order a drink. I’m good. That’s why I got right in the car.”
“I’ll just take a shot of top shelf tequila. Reposado, and I still want the Sprite,” she informed the server.
I ordered water. My ass was higher than a light bill, so I was good with not drinking. I didn’t want Josie to feel like she couldn’t let loose and have fun with me. My relationship with alcohol wasn’t that bad. I could watch her have a few drinks and not fall off the deep end.
“You ready for this bachelorette trip?” I asked.
“Yes. Clients have been stressing me out left and right. I get wanting someone that will bring your vision to life exactly how you envisioned it but got damn.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a graphic designer. I do everything from creating flyers, post cards, invitations, logos. I design websites, format books, journals, and magazines. You name it. I have fifteen projects that I completed in the past four days, so my que would be clear, and I could enjoy myself on vacation.”
“Damn that’s what’s up. So, when I start doing my little carpentry and handyman services, you’ll design some flyers and a website and shit for me?”
“I sure will,” she bobbed her head.
“That’s what’s up.”
The server brought our beverages over, then we ordered food and started our game.
I had never played golf in my life, but it wasn’t that bad.
I actually had fun, and I whooped Josie’s ass.
Even though she asked me to hang out, I was hesitant to be touchy feely or act like I didn’t want to have sex with her again.
When I arrived at her house after the date and she asked if I wanted to come in, I said fuck yes.
Sex with shorty the second time was even better than the first. It probably would have been even better if I was drunk, but I didn’t have to have alcohol in my system to have good sex.
Josie’s pussy was like that, and I knew my stroke game was top of the line.
I had just got back in the car after sexing her through two orgasms when my phone rang.
When I saw my mother’s name on the phone screen my brows furrowed because it was almost two in the morning.
“Hello?” I answered with a racing heart. My mother had never called me at two in the morning, so something had to be wrong.
“Huncho!” I could tell just from the one word she spoke that she was under the influence of something. She was slurring bad as hell. “Why didn’t you come to dinner the other night?”
My eyes closed briefly. I prayed that she was drunk and not on heroin or pain pills. “What have you been doing? Shooting up?” I asked.
“Ain’t nobody been shooting up. I can’t have a few drinks now? I don’t want to shoot up because if I make Hymn mad, I can’t come to the wedding. I’m trying, and all my kids see that but you.”
“You really doing this right now? Where is grandma? Where are you?”
“I have to get drunk to get you to act concerned about me?”
“You gotta grow up. You can’t put that on me. Don’t you have a sponsor or something? Somebody you can call?”
“I called you! I want to talk to you.”
My jaw muscle flexed, and I tried to contain my annoyance. “I’ll talk to you when you’re sober.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah, I promise.”
“Okay. I love you, Huncho.”
“Yeah, I hear you.”
Ending the call, I tossed the phone in the passenger seat.
That had just annoyed the hell out of me.
So, it was my fault she was drunk? I knew a little something about addiction, and I knew that she had a real good chance of relapsing and using heroin when she was already under the influence of something.
If she did relapse, I was sure my siblings would blame me.
One thing that pissed me off about my mother was that I could never go to her for support or advice. She was worried about me not talking to her, but I had my own shit going on. An autoimmune disorder, the fact that I couldn’t play the sport that I loved, and my pending court cases.
“I knew that shit was too good to be true,” I chuckled angrily. My mother couldn’t even remain sober for six months.