Page 67 of Cash

“A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do,” I said. “Sorry.”

She thrust her face into her open hands “Sorry doesn’t get me laid.”

Jennifer was an active part of Kimberly’s life no differently than the fellas were an active part of mine. I liked it that the three of us were becoming friends. Despite her theatrics, she was friendly, jovial, and always playful.

“If you want to get laid, all you’ve got to do is go down to the 7-Eleven, buy a bottle of water, and then drop it on the floor in front of the checkout.”

She glared at me. “How’s that going to get me laid?”

“I’ve never been in there that there wasn’t fifteen or twenty people in line. If you bent over to pick it up, someone would ask you out. Why don’t you go try it?”

“What are you saying?”

Kimberly snorted. “I think he’s saying your shorts are too short. Without saying your shorts are too short.”

She reached between her thighs and tugged against the denim. “They’re not too short.”

“If you say so.”

As Jennifer made another mimosa, I sipped my coffee and pulled Kimberly tight against my shoulder. My life had changed in the last few weeks. The differences weren’t anything I was searching for, but I welcomed them without question.

I couldn’t argue with how she made me feel.

When Jennifer returned, she looked at us and shook her head. “Aren’t you two cute. The big bad biker and the prom queen all snuggled together on the couch.”

I turned to face Kimberly. “You were prom queen?”

She smiled. “It was a long time ago.”

“But, you were?”

“I was.”

Jennifer raised her glass to her mouth, paused, and cocked one eyebrow the best she could. “What have you done that’s noteworthy, Dolla?”

I thought about her question for an inordinate amount of time. After coming to the realization that I’d done not one thing worth mentioning, I decided the last two weeks contained the most notable accomplishment of my life.

“Nothing.” I kissed Kimberly. “Until now.”