An hour later, I found myself at Scott’s house.
“Hey brother,” he answered the door, surprised. “What’s up?”
I pushed past him, and started walking down his hallway. “Nothing’s up, just felt like some company.”
He chuckled. “I’m not really your standard type of company, am I?”
I scowled at him. “You’ll fuckin’ do for tonight.”
“Trouble in Nash paradise?”
“Yeah, fuck you, asshole. Just make me a coffee,” I grumbled and sat at his kitchen table.
Laughing, he did as I’d demanded, and then sat with me. “What’s wrong, man? You’ve been off lately.”
Scott was a perceptive guy, often sensing when shit wasn’t right with people. I’d always managed to stay off his radar; probably because my shit was packed so deep in my soul that even I didn’t feel it. But the last decade was catching up with me, and I could feel myself slowly falling apart. And for the first time in those ten years, I didn’t know what to do.
I exhaled in frustration and anxiety, my heart hammering in my chest as I contemplated letting the monsters out. I’d locked them away for so long that just thinking about them distressed me. Talking about them scared the fuck out of me. “Do you have things in your past that no-one really knows about? Things that you don’t even want to know about?”
“Brother, I’ve got things in my life now that I don’t want to know about, let alone shit that happened years ago.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, lost in my thoughts.
“You need to talk about it?”
The concern in his voice was clear; I knew I could trust Scott but I didn’t trust myself with this stuff yet. I shook my head. “No, I’m good. Just been thinking about shit lately.”
We sat in silence for awhile. It was exactly what I needed and the anxiety I’d been feeling started to ease out of me. Once I had myself under control, I eyed him and asked, “You ever had a problem with your dick not working?”
Surprise flickered on his face and he smirked. “Never thought I’d hear that shit come out of your mouth.”
“Yeah, yeah. But fuck man, have you?”
“Can’t say I have, Nash.”
“Shit.”
“Yours giving you grief?” The bastard was laughing at me.
“Not my dick so much but my desire to use it. First time it’s ever happened so you could say I’m a little concerned.”
“Maybe Velvet was on to something when she said she was worried your dick would need resuscitating soon.”
“What the fuck?”
“She told me that she’d said something to you about screwing every chick in sight.”
“Fuck, why can’t women keep stuff to themselves?”
He shrugged. “Beats the shit outta me too, brother.”
I stood up to leave. I’d gotten what I’d come here for.
Scott followed me out. “Shit, I forgot to tell you that Harlow’s cooking lunch for everyone tomorrow. She wants you here.”
“What time?” Nobody passed up a meal cooked by Harlow.
“Around twelve.”