After nine years of being attached at the hip, Lyric and Prince finally split. Now, on the road to recovery, she learns a new way to view life as Prince is forced to face the music of a song he never wanted to played aloud. Join them as they learn a...
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"I don't know how you let a girl like that slip away, man!"
I hadn't seen Morris in a year or two, maybe three. Graffiti Bridge did what it did but I was already on to the next and Morris held his own. I was glad to know I was the chain to reconnect Jerome and Morris, just like Alexis was the chain to reconnect me with Jerome. Seeing Morris today was a little surprise. The only thing I don't like about it is his lateness having him moping and lingering on the past. This is old news.
Asking me over and over how I dropped the ball on that one won't put it back in my hands. I don't wanna hear that mess.
"Life," I shrug, approaching the pool table with my stick twirling between my fingers. A blind man could hear how over I was over Morris' noise.
Jerome sighs, settling down on a stool next to the cooler. He's wide awake, still in touch with the nocturnal habits I can't shake as the sun peeks awaits her time to shine. "Her and her sister? Finest girls I ever seen..." He nods, sipping his drink."But don't nobody look better than my bay-beh." Forever a comedian, that's what he is.
I don't laugh, but I do smile.
Morris snickers in objection. "No, you know who the finest girl I'd ever seen was... Denise!"
He's crazy, but he's speaking as a man who ain't had either one. I hold the reigning honor of the only man in the room to see both women naked, something that came as a result of her turning down a multi-million dollar playboy offer after she gained her real figure. Morris' sitting here sounding just like every other fool at the barbershop. He won't get out nothing out of comparing the two.
Denise is fine, the finest I've ever seen. I'm not blind or dumb. I know what I had. But only one was of the two is ethereal enough to have me sitting here, getting pissed off that Morris don't know how to keep his damn mouth shut.
"Come on with that mess! I'm trying to shoot my shot, now," I mumble, tightly clutching onto my pool stick. "If you not ready to get your ass whipped, just say that, man. All that talkin'..."
Morris adds fuel to the fire. "If you was so good, my talkin' wouldn't bother ya. You needa close your eyes and concentrate?"
"Keep talkin' shit," I warn. "Red in that pocket," I call as I set my shot up. The ball goes flying across the pull table, smoothly falling in to the pocket called. "Uh huh." A lifted brows meets Morris' rolling eyes. He ain't got nothing to say now.
From behind his drink, Jerome asks, "You gone try to get at 'er tomorrow?"
I shrug ignoring the cracking of Morris' failed put. I'm handing his as to him and he's still talking all this shit. "Probably not." I stand against the table's edge as I scan the options presented to me now that Morris' fucked up. "Just the other day she told me she got herself a' old man."
