Prologue #4
My eyes locked onto hers. "Va à l'intérieur maintenant... et ne me force pas à t'y mettre." Go inside now... and don't make me put you inside.
"There y'all go with that Moulin Rouge shit," Asher scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Y'all think y'all better than me?"
"I don't think. I know."
Asher's face twisted.
"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?" He said it loud, proud, with his chest puffed out like he'd just won something. "Huh? See, I know some of that shit too, nigga! Think I ain’t bilingual cause I’m from Oak Hill?"
I stared at him, trying to process what just came out his mouth and why.
Behind me, I heard Aurelia make a sound. Something between a gasp and a laugh that she was clearly trying to swallow.
"Asher." Her voice came out like she was fighting for her life not to laugh. "You just asked him if he wants to sleep with you tonight."
"What?" Asher's confidence flickered.
"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir," Aurelia repeated slowly, like she was talking to a child. "Means 'Do you want to sleep with me tonight.' It's from a song. 'Lady Marmalade.' I’m assuming that’s where you heard it. You literally just propositioned him."
I couldn't help it. A laugh burst out of me, had to press my fist to my mouth to keep from losing it completely.
Stupid ass boy.
"Man, I ain't—that ain't what I meant!" Asher sputtered, his face going red even in the dim parking lot light. "I was just—I was trying to—"
"Nah, nah, it's cool," I managed to get out, still fighting back laughter. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't go that way. I'm flattered though."
Aurelia made that sound again, her hand clamped over her mouth, shoulders shaking.
"Fuck y'all!" Asher's voice cracked with frustration and humiliation. "Y'all know what I was trying to say!"
"Do we though?" I tilted my head, face innocent as Sunday morning. "Cause what you said was pretty clear. In French and everything, very romantic for a man that can’t remember Valentines Day."
"I'mma fuck you up!" Asher barked in embarrassment, wrapped in anger.
"After you just asked me to sleep with you?" I raised an eyebrow. "That's a lot of mixed signals, my man. You gotta work on your communication."
Aurelia lost it then. Full body laughter, doubled over, gasping for air.
He puffed his chest out, squared his shoulders, his arms hanging slightly away from his sides like he was trying to look bigger. The universal stance of a man who'd watched too much WWE and thought this was how real fights started.
"Aight! Yeah, I been waitin' for this," he announced, grinning like he just knew this was his time to shine. "Let's do this shit!"
Then, in what had to be the most dramatic move I'd seen since my cousin tried to fight his reflection at a family reunion, he peeled off his shirt. Then threw it on the ground like we were about to duel at dawn.
He started bouncing on his toes, rolling his shoulders, cracking his neck. Full warm-up routine. Shadow boxing the air between us.
I stood there, hands still loose at my sides, and let my gaze travel real slow from his face down to his bare chest, then back up with one eyebrow lifted, like I was inspecting produce at the farmer's market and finding it lacking. I tilted my head, genuinely confused.
"Waiting for what, bruh?" I asked, voice casual as Sunday morning. "And why you taking your clothes off? I just told you I don't go that way."
Behind me, Aurelia lost it. Her laugh burst out sudden, like a champagne cork popping.
She tried to catch it, hand clamping over her mouth, but it was too late.
The dam had broken. Her shoulders shook.
Her whole body trembled with it. Even in the dim light of the parking lot, I could see tears gathering in her eyes, streaming down her face from trying to hold it in.
Asher's face twisted in frustration, his neck going red, then his ears, then his whole face. "Man, fuck you!"
"Nah," I said, hands still casually at my sides, voice smooth as aged whiskey. "I'm good, man. I appreciate the interest though." I paused, let that breathe. "That's twice now you asked me. The French thing and now the shirt. You starting to make me think you serious."
Behind me, Aurelia made a sound like a wounded animal trying not to laugh.
"But hey," I continued, shrugging one shoulder.
"Love is love, bruh. I support your choices.
This is 2026. We don't judge." I paused again, let it marinate in the awkward silence.
Watched his face get redder. "Matter fact, I might even have somebody for you.
My line cook Walter been looking for something steady.
Y'all might really hit it off. He's about your height, likes sports, drinks Hennessy... "
"I AIN'T GAY!" Asher's voice cracked on the word, went up an octave.
I blinked at him. "Nobody said you were, man. But you the one who asked me to sleep with you in French. You the one who just stripped in a parking lot in February. I'm just saying, if you exploring your options, I know people. No shame in it."
"That ain't—I wasn't—" Asher was sputtering now, completely off his game.
"It's cool, it's cool," I said, waving my hand like I was absolving him. "You don't gotta explain yourself to me. I'm just a little confused about what we doing out here.”
Aurelia was on her knees now, one hand on a parked car to keep from collapsing completely. Making sounds that were half laughter, half sobbing.
"Square up, nigga!" Asher barked, dropping into what I guess was supposed to be a fight stance.
But it looked more like he was doing a TikTok dance.
Legs spread too wide like he was about to do a sumo squat.
Arms up but loose, elbows flaring out at angles that would get him knocked out in the first round.
Still swaying just enough to let everybody know the liquor was still in the driver's seat.
I just stood there watching him, face blank as fresh paper. Then I cut my eyes to Aurelia, who was now literally sitting on the ground, arms wrapped around her stomach.
The look I gave her said everything: You see this? This what you been crying over? This?
I looked back at Asher, who was still bouncing. Still shadow boxing. Still shirtless in a parking lot in February. Still waiting for me to do... something. I let out a long, slow sigh. The kind of sigh you make when you're incredibly tired and dealing with something incredibly stupid.
"You know what, man?" I said, voice flat. "Put your shirt back on. It's cold out here and you making this weird."
"What?" Asher stopped bouncing.
"Your shirt," I repeated, pointing at the ground where he'd thrown it. "Pick it up. Put it back on. This ain't that kind of establishment."
"I ain't putting shit back on till we—"
"Asher," I cut him off, voice dropping lower, all the humor draining out. "Put your shirt on, go home, and sleep this off. 'Cause in about thirty seconds, you gonna do something you regret. And I'm trying to save you from yourself right now."
But he wasn't listening. He was too drunk, embarrassed and committed to whatever this was.
Asher kept bouncing on his toes, bobbing and weaving like he was in a Rocky training montage, completely oblivious to how ridiculous he looked. The parking lot light cast shadows that made him look even more pathetic, all that unnecessary movement for a fight that wasn't coming.
At least, not the way he thought it was.
I sighed one more time, barely moving, shoulders dropping like I was already exhausted by what was about to happen.
"This what we doin' tonight?" I asked nobody in particular. "Aight. Bet."
I calmly turned to Aurelia, and switched back to French. My voice stayed low, conversational, like we were discussing the weather and not the drunk fool bouncing around in front of us.
"C'est l'homme que tu aimes, Aurelia? Sérieusement?" This is the man you love, Aurelia? Seriously?
She tried to answer but couldn't get words out through the laughter. Finally managed a soft sigh, shoulders sinking. "Il est ivre." He's drunk.
I shook my head slow, eyes narrowing as I looked back at Asher, still bouncing like he had ants in his pants.
"Lame ass nigga," I muttered under my breath, then let my voice rise just enough for him to hear. "Oh wait. Did I say that in English?"
Asher's face twisted. "Let's go, Chef!" he shouted, adding some kind of spinning move to his bounce. Man looked like he was about to break into a full kung fu routine. Or maybe the Carlton. Hard to tell.
I exhaled slowly through my nose. This whole thing was more exhausting than entertaining. More sad than scary. But he'd made his choice when he put his hands near Aurelia's face.
Without taking my eyes off Asher, I leaned slightly toward her. "Je vais tabasser ton petit ami." I'm going to beat up your boyfriend.
"Dillion..." she started, but I was already done talking.
Swift and silent, I closed the distance with a single stride while Asher was mid-bounce.
He tried to throw a sloppy and wild punch, telegraphed it so hard I saw it coming from last Tuesday.
All arm, no hip rotation, no weight behind it.
The kind of punch that might work in a bar against someone as drunk as he was.
I wasn't drunk.
I ducked under it easy, felt the air move above my head as his fist sailed past. Before he could even register he'd missed, I had his arm.
Grabbed it mid-swing, used his own momentum against him, and twisted it behind his back in one smooth motion.
Textbook. The kind of thing you learn when you grow up in Roena County and your granddaddy teaches you how to handle yourself.
"Ayo! Wait..." His voice came out high, strained, all that bravado evaporating like water on a hot skillet, but it was too late.