“Oh, so you want a number?”
“Don’t be going crazy with it, either. We’re in the twenty-first century, not the nineteenth century.”
He laughed. “Okay, shit . . . you’re so beautiful and fine, I might fuck around and put six kids into you.”
“Six?” She shrieked with laughter.
“You said give you a number.”
“You want me to give birth to the Brady Bunch?”
“Hey, I wouldn’t mind a big family,” he joked.
“Well, three at the most, and you better look into adoption for the rest.” She laughed.
“Adoption?”
“You know what giving birth to six kids will do to my body?”
“Yup, make you even finer,” he said sweetly.
She beamed. He always knew the right thing to say to her to boost her confidence. She hoped their chemistry continued until the end of time.
As they lingered in the warm tub, Mecca’s cell phone rang, and it was Chanel calling her.
“Damn, she got perfect timing,” Mecca said. “Give me a minute, baby, and let me see what she wants.”
She climbed out of the tub and Pyro grinned at her wet, succulent ass. He wanted to bite her butt. Mecca grabbed a towel and stepped out of the bathroom. Just then, Pyro’s cell phone started to ring too. It was Mateo calling him. Each was getting a phone call from their friend at the same time. Before Pyro could answer his phone, he heard Mecca squealing her happiness into her phone.
What the fuck is that about? he thought.
“Mecca hollering all crazy and happy,” he said to Mateo.
“That’s because she got some good news,” said Mateo.
“And what’s that, my dude?”
“Chanel and I are gonna get married soon. We decided to just do it—go down to the Justice of the Peace and say our vows there,” Mateo said.
“Oh word? Y’all gonna just do it—get married just like that? Man, congratulations,” Pyro returned, trying to project that same happiness Mecca had squealed to her friend.
“And you know I want you there by my side when I say ‘I do’ to her. I love her, Pyro, I truly do. I don’t know what I would do without her,” Mateo said.
“Well, I’m happy for you.”
“I’m happy for you too, Pyro. You and Mecca make a great couple.”
“Thanks.”
“Look at us, two engaged hustlers from the block moving on up wit’ our lives and about to get hitched. Damn, Pyro. We sprung, my nigga?”
Pyro laug
hed. “We’re something,” he replied.
“One, my nigga.”
“One.”