Page 1 of The Need to Know

It was written on the wall in lipstick. Bold strokes were used to get the letters large and prominent. In chalky red script, the word asshole was painted on the wall of my living room. I should’ve been offended, sure, but I had to admit, the red lettering gave color to the otherwise dull white walls. After checking every room in my condo and coming up empty, I came and just stood staring at the wall, marveling at the intruder’s handiwork.

It was a quarter after seven, and I’d missed my early morning workout because I had a meeting with my father in an hour. Whoever had done this must’ve been in and out, because everything else was intact outside of their crude memo.

Some people—my mother—liked to complain that I lacked taste or style, but really, I admired the minimalist and clean aura white presented.

Nearly all my shit was white. The walls—formerly, my blinds, the marble coffee table, my entertainment center, and my shag rug. Every inch of the room was crisp and white, outside of my gray sofa and hardwood floor.

As a gag, I should’ve hung an empty frame around the graffiti and made it art. But I wasn’t an asshole. At least, I tried not to be.

“You just let this happen, huh?” I asked, loud enough to where I knew she heard me.

I drew my gaze away from the vandalism, looking for her. The search wasn’t long before I found her. There, in my dining room across from me, under the table, she was laying comfortably.

Gesturing a hand toward the lipstick marring my wall, I said, “Well?”

Sadé opened her mouth wide as she yawned. She wasn’t fussing with me. She lazily looked elsewhere, paying me no further mind. If that tuxedo cat was gonna do anything, she was gonna remain unbothered.

I wasn’t even mad. It would be a bitch getting someone in my condo to paint over the stain if it wouldn’t just wipe off, but I wasn’t stressing the break-in.

My condo was located on the tenth floor of The Millennial. This was no easy feat, no, someone must have finagled their way in with a key or picked the lock. A glance at my front door found it securely closed.

Patting myself down, I found all parts unharmed. Whoever had broken in just wanted to send a petty message.

I got it.

I ran through a quick list of women I’d encountered within the past few weeks, sifting through memorized faces to pinpoint who I’d had a falling out with, who would’ve been pissed enough at me to fuck up my wall. With my track record, the list could go on for a while.

One could say I had a slight problem with women. I chased, I succeeded, and I left. Relationships and commitment weren’t my interest. I fucked. A lot. And sometimes, they got sprung off the pipe. I wasn’t a bad guy, either. Good company and great dick were a deadly combo to possess, because more often than not, a meaningless hookup turned into someone—them—catching feelings and getting pissy with me.

Did I lie? Sometimes, when necessary, but I always kept it a hundred during my approach. To avoid situations where my shit got wrecked. I had a nice condo in uptown Belmont, Georgia. I drove a nice-ass truck. And I was otherwise a healthy person. I didn’t need this level of unhinged in my life.

Sadé was lounging underneath the dining room table, unmoved at what had taken place.

“See, this is why I should’ve gotten a damn dog. I rescue you, and this is how you repay me?” I remarked as I walked by her to go into the kitchen to grab something to clean the wall with.

She ignored me. Of course.

I grabbed some cleanser and was quick to salvage my wall. My cell phone went off just as I finished. A look at the contact flashing across my screen let me know my boy, Cesar James, was calling.

I put in my earbuds as I answered the phone and went over to my pull-up bar above my guest bedroom door. “What up?”

“Man, you know,” Cesar responded. “You just gettin’ up?”

“A little behind, but yeah.” I pulled my chin above the bar and lowered myself back down as I crossed my ankles. On a good day, I could do a set of a fifty. “Woke up to a little present on my living room wall.”

“What?”

“Someone broke in and wrote ‘asshole’ on it in some lipstick.”

Cesar snickered. “No tellin’ who that could be.”

I chuckled. “Fuck you.”

“Still, could’ve been worse. Could’ve been your furniture, equipment, or you.”

I blew out a breath and nearly shivered. “Don’t put that thought in my head.”

“Listen, I may be late gettin’ to the gym today if you wanna link around noon.”