"we fell in love the way you fall in leaves."
Juwan "Rocky" Rockwell has had a pretty hard life. Between trying to find a way to fend for himself and dealing with the normal hardships of teenage angst, he had nowhere to turn as an adolescent and no...
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"the honey"
"And she said, 'call me when you know for sure' and hung up," I shook my head. Marcus kissed his teeth, murmuring under his breath while bringing his blunt to his mouth. "I keep tryna' tell you. Bitches ain't shit."
"Ayo, don't even start with that shit, Marcus. You don't wanna' play wit' me today, son. On Moms, you don't. I'll come over there and backhand the shit outta' ya' bitch ass. I let that shit slide the first couple of times because I was tryin' to be nice, and any friend of Rashad's is a friend of mine, but that doesn't automatically exempt you from getting your shit rocked. You hear me? Next time you call any female a bitch that ain't one, you seein' me wit' the hands. A'ight? I'm done playin' wit'chu. Word up," I was calm with my words and stern with my eye contact.
"You keep sayin' I'm Rashad's friend like we all didn't grow up together," he kissed his teeth. "Just because we came up together don't make us friends, nigga. You're confused," I clarified. "Woooooooww, bet," Marcus nodded.
"Anyway, like I was sayin', Red," I reverted back to what I was saying prior to Marcus opening his slick ass mouth. "I don't know what to do."
"What do you think you should do?" he shrugged. "Nigga, I don't fucking know. That's why I'm asking," the question was stupid to me. "Rocky, you need to chill the fuck out. A'ight? I know you're upset and shit, but we ain't the ones playin' with your little emotions," he reminded me.
Hearing that allowed me to take a look at the bigger picture here. Here I was coming to my friend and his friend for advice, and I was snappin' on them without hesitation.
"My bad, B. . . I'm buggin'," I admitted with a sigh. My hand ran over my face, my frustration still at its height.
"I think we need to go and get your mind off of this," Red suggested. "Get my mind off of this how?" I inquired. "Well, we can start by getting you a damn haircut," Marcus said. "Hardy har har," I sarcastically commented. "We can start by gettin' you some new gear. That ain't Karl Kani, nigga. That's Karlous Kane."
Red belted out a laugh, keke-ing and tearing up after several moments. I joined him, his laughter carrying a contagious trait. Marcus took the insult like a champ though, probably too high to even make a point to fire back at me.
"Anyway, Red. What'd you have in mind, man?" I asked. He sighed repetitively, still wiping his tears and coming down from his extreme laughing fit. "I was thinking. . . video games and food, man."
"That's it?" my eyebrows raised. "Yeah. . . I know that we usually hit the club or some shit, but I knew you wouldn't want to. You don't ever wanna' party no more," he mumbled. "Well, you spoke too soon. . . I need a party right now. I need to blow off some steam, man," I assured him although I wasn't sure of my own words.
I would've much rather stayed in and had a cool night in with the guys. Watch a game, play a video game, eat pizza... to be quite honest, it sounded like a dream, but I knew that I'd only end up thinking and venting about Quinn again. I needed something to drown out my thoughts for a while. I didn't wanna' get drunk because nothing good ever comes from me being drunk, and I always feel like shit in the morning. So, good vibes and good music and a lot of people might just be what I need.
