Monday.
"So, wait," I said, staring at the stoplight from behind the wheel of my grandfather's Infiniti, "What happened when you met my ex?"
Stevenson shifted in the passenger's seat, long legs pressed uncomfortably to the dash, as his dreadlocks caught in the seat belt. Behind us, Echo sat, doing something I couldn't see at the time. We'd run into Echo across the street from Dante's while KC, a remarkably huge white man with stringy, long hair-metal hair, showed Stevenson a vintage music book he'd purchased off Ebay. He and I were walking to the Infiniti, as he was too drunk to drive; Echo pulled up to the stoplight and called out, prompting me to run over and kiss her.
By the time Stevenson and I had retrieved the car and were driving through the intersection, Echo was walking through it; amused at the turnabout, I asked her to hop in the car. She complied, and off we drove.
"Oh, shit," Stevenson replied, chuckling in disbelief. "So, I get this call from the guy who owns the place she dances at--" he dropped his voice momentarily, convincingly affecting an eastern European accent--"'Stevenson, I want to talk to you about working here again.'" His chuckles grew, rising in pitch as his voice reverted back to normal. "So I go there and she's there, and she starts talking to me and I'm all like, 'don't I know you from somewhere?'"
I heard Echo laugh in the backseat. I looked in the rearview mirror and was a bit surprised to see my lopsided grin emerging; my right cheek was beginning to swell beneath my eye.
Stevenson continued. "I talk to her for a bit longer, because I know I knew her from somewhere, and then she says 'We met at Dante's' and it clicked, because I met her when I met you, and I mostly talked to you. So I say 'Oh, you're Darryl's...' and she nods. And then, she says 'so, what are you up to later?'"
The information collected at the base of my brain stem and held there, dripping into my lungs and stomach while connecting with the other strands of information I'd picked up over the past month-and-a-half. I couldn't explain the feeling, an unfortunate inability that continues even now, but at the time, the grin became a smile, albeit a tired one, and my eyes softened.
Oblivious to this, Stevenson shook his head abruptly, turning back to face Echo. "And I'm like, 'whoa--hold on, sister,' because I was there the night she dumped him and I remembered him telling me about it--I was like 'know what? I'm scandalous, but I'm not that scandalous.' Know what I mean?"
"Yep." The resignation in my voice told me more than it probably told any of the others. "That sounds like her."
"So, wait," I said, staring at the stoplight from behind the wheel of my grandfather's Infiniti, "What happened when you met my ex?"
Stevenson shifted in the passenger's seat, long legs pressed uncomfortably to the dash, as his dreadlocks caught in the seat belt. Behind us, Echo sat, doing something I couldn't see at the time. We'd run into Echo across the street from Dante's while KC, a remarkably huge white man with stringy, long hair-metal hair, showed Stevenson a vintage music book he'd purchased off Ebay. He and I were walking to the Infiniti, as he was too drunk to drive; Echo pulled up to the stoplight and called out, prompting me to run over and kiss her.
By the time Stevenson and I had retrieved the car and were driving through the intersection, Echo was walking through it; amused at the turnabout, I asked her to hop in the car. She complied, and off we drove.
"Oh, shit," Stevenson replied, chuckling in disbelief. "So, I get this call from the guy who owns the place she dances at--" he dropped his voice momentarily, convincingly affecting an eastern European accent--"'Stevenson, I want to talk to you about working here again.'" His chuckles grew, rising in pitch as his voice reverted back to normal. "So I go there and she's there, and she starts talking to me and I'm all like, 'don't I know you from somewhere?'"
I heard Echo laugh in the backseat. I looked in the rearview mirror and was a bit surprised to see my lopsided grin emerging; my right cheek was beginning to swell beneath my eye.
Stevenson continued. "I talk to her for a bit longer, because I know I knew her from somewhere, and then she says 'We met at Dante's' and it clicked, because I met her when I met you, and I mostly talked to you. So I say 'Oh, you're Darryl's...' and she nods. And then, she says 'so, what are you up to later?'"
The information collected at the base of my brain stem and held there, dripping into my lungs and stomach while connecting with the other strands of information I'd picked up over the past month-and-a-half. I couldn't explain the feeling, an unfortunate inability that continues even now, but at the time, the grin became a smile, albeit a tired one, and my eyes softened.
Oblivious to this, Stevenson shook his head abruptly, turning back to face Echo. "And I'm like, 'whoa--hold on, sister,' because I was there the night she dumped him and I remembered him telling me about it--I was like 'know what? I'm scandalous, but I'm not that scandalous.' Know what I mean?"
"Yep." The resignation in my voice told me more than it probably told any of the others. "That sounds like her."
mr_ruckus:
Damn if we ain't twins rght about now!