Chapter Three

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Micah

The next morning, I sat in my patrol car, tired as hell waiting for my partner, Deston, to come out. I had already been waiting for him for about fifteen minutes, I guess it took longer than I thought to slap some paperwork on chief’s desk and walk out. I was about to go in to the police station and go get him myself until he finally walked out. He had a confused look on his face, but I didn’t even question it, he was always confused.

He hopped in the car with his wife beater showing under his unbuttoned uniform. He got in and turned all the way so he was facing me directly, looked at me then down at his wife beater and asked, “Do my nipples look bigger?”

Good thing we hadn’t started driving yet because Im sure that was one of those moments I would have quickly stepped on the break to give him the look I was giving him now. The “did you seriously just say that” look.

“What, D?” I asked, just bewildered at what just came out of his mouth.

“I said do my nipples look bigger. I think they’re swollen. Look man,” he said as he started lifting up his shirt.

“D!” I yelled, stopping him from lifting it any further. I mean I’ve seen him shirtless countless times, we play basketball together, change in the same locker room, and share the same shower rooms after gym. We’re boys. But I wasn’t about to sit here and stare at the fool’s nipples just to humor him. 

“What man? I’m serious, she just kept biting on my nipples last night. I mean I like a little pain with the pleasure, but its like she had a fetish or something. Everytime it started to get good she just started munching on my nipples like they were starbursts. I was hitting it all nice and-“

“Dude!” I said stopping him from going into anymore more details. Shaking my head I started up the car and drove off.

“Maybe if you settle down with the right women, you wont have to worry about these freaks out here treating your nipples like salsbury steak. Now button your shirt and buckle up.” I said dismissing the conversation. I knew he wasn’t going to listen to me though.

“Gangstas like me don’t need seatbelts,” he said, laughing at his own joke and putting his ipod earphones in  his ear.

I laughed too, Deston was a hilarious dude. Every morning, before work he had some crazy story to tell me about last nights “adventures” with all types of different women. He laughed and bragged about sex all the time but I know apart of him felt beyond guilty. He was a sex addict and he had it bad. He never talked about the pain that came along with it, but I knew him since we were kids. So I knew he hated sneaking out of different women’s rooms every night, having to sometimes get with prostitutes when he didn’t have enough time to pick a girl up at the club, or not being able to settle down because he was afraid of being unfaithful; but most of all I knew it hurt him to not be able to be there like he wanted to for his son because of this addiction. Don’t get me wrong, Deston was the best father I knew and his son adored him; but late nights with females means not being able to tuck his son in at night or be there on time to make him breakfast in the morning. His son, Deston Jr., was in some ways a product of his addiction. Deston had Jr, when he was  22. Jr’s mom was a stripper/prostitute and Deston didn’t want that kind of life for his son so he fought for full custody which he got. Now at 26, Deston is a police officer and full time dad; and somehow he’s excellent at both.

I looked over at my boy, singing along to what I guess was “Doing It Wrong” by Drake; I was proud of him. I knew this addiction wouldn’t have hold of him forever, he was stronger than that. This will pass, God was preparing him for some blessings.

I guess he seen me look at him, took his earphones off and said, “Man you looking like crap this morning. Mineh’s fine,chocolate self must of put it on you last night. Man, if she was my wife, I would..” He started moving his hands like he was smacking someone’s butt. Him being big, buff and black he looked like Terry Crews in White Chicks when he was singing in the car.

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