“I’m going to sleep,” Reginald said abruptly. He reached past me and turned out the light before turning to face his side of the bed.
I sat there stunned. Alone, half drunk, and stunned. What was happening here? Reginald could be a nice guy, but never this nice. And certainly never this nice to one of my friends. And that was why I had so few.
I turned away from him. I’d never seen him like that. Not in over twelve years had I seen him so giddy over a thing like a nice car or front row seats at a basketball game. He usually found a way to make fun of those things. It just wasn’t who he was. Yeah, he’d smile at me and the kids. Laugh at something on television, but never too much. He was a worker. A hard worker. He believed in principles and family. Work ethic and holding on. But now, his eyes were shining. And it was about none of those things.
I turned back toward him.
I looked at the deep crease in his back, how sharp and hard it was. His body was a record of how hard he worked. I’d always wanted him to have more. To be more. But I never wanted to push him. I was afraid I’d lose him.
I reached out to him. Raked my dangling index finger up the small of his back.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered in his ear. “I didn’t mean to ask you all of those questions. I’m happy you had a good time.”
“It’s fine,” he said emptily.
I kissed his shoulder and opened my mouth for a quick bite and lick. I slid my arms under his and pushed my breasts into his back.
“I love you,” I said before kissing his shoulder again. I closed my eyes and wrapped my leg around his waist, pulling him back toward me. He didn’t move though. And soon I noticed that his body was as heavy as it was when he was asleep.
“I’m tired,” he said.
“Tired?”
“It’s been a long night. I need some sleep.” He readjusted himself in the bed a little.
I backed up and looked at him and I’m almost sure my eyes were completely crossed in some odd puzzlement. Reginald and I didn’t have sex often, but the once in a while that we did, never once had he turned me down. Well . . . not twice.
“You sure?” I asked and I wasn’t clear about how exactly crazy that sounded until Reginald turned to look at me.
“Yes, I’m sure,” he said and then he turned back to his side of the bed. “Oh,” he started after a pause. “Sasha’s here. We’re going to Phil Landon’s in the morning.”
“What?” I shot up again. “Sasha’s where?”
“She’s here. We’re going to Phil Landon’s tomorrow. You know, the car dealer.”
“I know who Phil Landon is,” I said. “But that’s not what I asked. Why is she here? You were supposed to drop her off in Atlanta. That’s the whole reason you went to her house.”
“Damn, Dawn, you make it sound like you don’t like the woman or something,” Reginald said, turning back around annoyed. “Look, she knows Landon and she thinks he might have some work for me. That’s all. She’s hooking me up. Getting a contract like that would be amazing. Landon has ten dealerships and they all have grass. Big money. You could finally quit your job.”
“I don’t want to quit my job,” I said.
“Don’t you think it’s a little late to be arguing about this?”
“Late?” I got out of the bed and put on my bathrobe.
“What are you doing?”
“You bring a woman into my house in the middle of the night and you expect me to be OK with it? No.”
“She’s not just some woman. She’s your friend.”
“Well, she should’ve asked me first,” I said, putting on my slippers. “You should’ve asked me first.”
“Sasha,” I called sternly, pushing into the guest room without a care of what naked or ridiculous red-light scene waited inside. I was irritated beyond anything I could articulate. “Why are you—”
“Hey, baby,” she called from the bed. She was sitting up, looking at a photo album I recognized immediately. It was Cheyenne and R. J.’s baby album. I hadn’t seen it in months. “You still up?”
“Yeah,” I answered and already my disposition was softened by what I saw. “Reginald just told me that you were here and I wanted to know—where’d you get that?”