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“Uh, not until eleven,” I say. “I think.”
“You think? Son, you should know.”
I raise my hands as I slink past him. “I just came to talk to Court, and then I’ll head straight to campus.”
“Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” I say, prompting a blink. “Can’t a guy chat with his big sister?” Before he can reply, I widen my stride to get away. “I’ll catch you later, Dad.”
I find Courtney at the squat racks like Kelly said. She’s wearing a jet black sports bra and navy blue tights, her ears covered with a pair of wireless headphones that scream talk to me and die. I know better than to interrupt her mid-set, so I stay back and wait for her to finish before getting her attention. The bar digs into her back as she rises out of her squat; her form perfect, her cheeks puffy and red. A few guys passing by slow down to watch, but it’s not the tights they’re focused on.
Not sure why people are always so surprised to see that Courtney Morgan is fucking jacked.
Courtney rolls the bar onto the rack and straightens up. I step into her eyeline. She glances up, bobbing her chin as she slides her headphones to rest on the back of her neck.
“Hey, little brother,” she says, pointing at my feet. “Hand me that bottle, will ya?”
I bend to grab the bottle of water and bring it within reach.
“Thanks.” She takes a sip and smiles, catching her breath. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“Later,” I say. That is going to get annoying. “Did you talk to Dana last night?”
She squints. “We all did. She was in our house.”
“Right, but did you tell her…”
I pause. All the times I rehearsed this in my head, and it’s not coming out any easier.
“Did I… tell her what?” Courtney asks.
I take a breath, stalling again. “Did you tell her she should ask a guy friend… to take her virginity?”
“Yes,” she answers with a shrug.
“Why?”
“Why not?” She dabs her forehead with her towel. “Everybody does it.”
“Everybody does not do that,” I argue. “Do they?”
“I did.”
I cringe.
“Mom did,” she adds.
“Mom did?”
“Yeah. Back when she lived in New York. Before she met Dad.”
“How do you know that?”
“Uncle Grant told me,” she says. “He’s full of good stories about the shit they got into back when they all went to Chicago North.” She leans forward. “Did you know Dad had a sex van?”
“A sex van?” I repeat.
“Yeah.”
