Page 63 of Buy Back My Love

I laughed. “What?”

His mouth pulled into a smile. “You been waiting to do that, ain’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Nah. You definitely been waiting.”

“Just say they look good, Van.”

He laughed, but his eyes stayed on me. “They do. They look real good.”

“Thank you.”

“I like seeing you smile like that.”

Something about the way he said it took a little of the playfulness out of me. “Like what?”

“Without doing this.” He lifted his hand toward his mouth, halfway covering it. “You used to do that every time you laughed.”

I hadn’t realized he noticed.

“Yeah, well…” I ran my tongue across the back of my teeth. “I don’t have to anymore.”

“I know.” He smiled. “Looks good on you.”

Before I could figure out what the hell to say to that, Snoop shoved his nose against my leg and nearly knocked me backward.

“See?” I pointed down at him. “Your child jealous because somebody else getting attention.”

“My child is rushing you out the door because he needs to piss and apparently doesn’t wanna do it on your front porch.” Van tugged lightly on Snoop’s leash. “Come on, boy.”

“He got home training.”

“Snoop tried to eat a dirty diaper out the parking lot yesterday. I don’t know why you keep defending him.”

I stepped outside and locked my door behind me. “That don’t mean he ain’t got home training. Maybe he was hungry.”

Van stopped and looked at me. “A dirty diaper, Lee?”

“I ain’t say he had good taste.”

Van shook his head, laughing as we headed down the steps. “Man, come on.”

The weather had finally started feeling a little like fall. Not real fall, because Mobile didn’t know how to commit to a damn season, but the air had cooled enough that I could wear a hoodie without sweating underneath it. Kids were still riding bikes near the corner, somebody a few houses down was cutting grass even though daylight was almost gone, and Snoop stopped to sniff damn near everything we passed.

There wasn’t anything special about our walks. I think that was why I liked them.

We had made it halfway down the block when bass started thumping behind us, loud enough that I felt it before I even turned around.

“Damn.”

A big white Chevy was creeping around the corner, sitting so high off the ground I didn’t understand how anybody got into the motherfucker without a ladder. The windows were down despite the cool air, and whoever was behind the wheel had the music loud enough to announce himself to the whole neighborhood.

“I thought folks only rode around bumping like that in the hood,” I said.

Van looked over his shoulder and immediately laughed. “Man, that’s White Boy Rick.”

“Who?”