“Crack in that armor, hey Arden?”
“You shouldn’t speak shit you know nothing about,” I said. My hands were shaking a little but not enough that anyone would notice except for me. “Mention it again, and maybe I’ll go dig a hole and show you what it was like.”
Turning on my heel, I quickened my pace down the rest of the stairs.
“Fuck you!” Terry called out as I clomped down the steps and out the back door with Jonathan still beside me. The heavy metal door slammed with a bang.
“You all right, brotha?” Jonathan asked as we walked across the parking lot to his white F150 Ford Pickup.
“I’m good,” I replied. “Why?”
He furrowed his brow a bit, looked back towards the closed door, and then shrugged. He knew me pretty well and knew when to change the subject.
“Because since you got back, you’ve been a little off,” he finally said as he pulled a pack of Marlboro’s out of his shirt pocket and fished out a cigarette. He shoved it between his lips as he hunted around in his pants pocket for a lighter. “You were gone a while.”
I just shrugged as I climbed into the passenger seat. Jonathan tossed his Luke Skywalker style hair out of his eyes as he maneuvered himself into the driver’s side.
“I think that would drive me nuts,” he said, “sitting in some piece of shit cabin for half a year by myself.”
“It was just a little over three months,” I corrected. “Not a half year. It wasn’t that bad, and I had Odin with me.”
“Still…” He whistled low and shook his head. “Three months without pussy would suck balls.”
I glanced sideways at him and raised my eyes at his choice of words.
“Just sayin’ it would suck,” he said with a shrug. He turned the key and rolled down his window to blow smoke back past his shoulder. Reaching forward, he fiddled around with the radio controls until he tuned it to a classic rock station.
“Well, you know me,” I said, “I always find a way to get shit done.”
“You got blisters on your hand?” he snickered as he put the truck into reverse.
“Nope.” The corners of my mouth turned up a bit as visions of that long, dark hair spread over the creamy skin of Lia Antonio’s back filled my head. I could almost feel her pussy gripping my cock as I thought about it.
Jonathan blew smoke out the open window, shoved the gear shift back into park, and turned to look at me.
“No way,” he exclaimed.
“What?” I asked.
“You were out in the middle of fucking nowhere and you still got laid?”
I smirked.
“Now that’s custom!”
Jonathan had worked in an auto shop prior to his first stint in prison for dealing. He specialized in tricking out people’s cars with all kinds of shit, so anything remotely out of the ordinary was always “custom.” It was mostly his code word for anything he thought was worthy of his admiration.
“I need some deets, brotha!”
I rolled my eyes.
“You that interested in what my cock does?” I asked.
“I just don’t understand how you manage to get pus
sy to fall into your lap no matter where you go.”
“It’s a gift,” I replied.