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“I do, but I can’t bear to think about people being mean to you. I’m barely containing my rage right now.”
“Fucking fool,” Sierra giggled. “Seriously though, I’m not worried about those bitches. One of the perks of being rich and pretty is getting to do frivolous shit. I’m waist deep in philanthropy already, I want to do something vapid.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. You have my support. I’ll be your first guest.”
“You don’t wanna be my first guest.”
“Why not?”
“I’ma make you talk about Tatum. And that dick.”
I busted out laughing at the ridiculous way she delivered that. Obviously she was joking, but there really was plenty to talk about.
Plenty of Tatum, and plenty of Tatum’s dick.
I’d been shamelessly indulging in both, as often as I could. I’d even been up to Connecticut a few times in the two weeks since returning from Wildwood. In a direct contradiction of what we were supposed to be doing, free agenting or whatever, we were actually getting more and more deeply involved.
Or maybe it was just me who was lowkey obsessed. A sentiment I shared with Sierra, now that she’d brought him up.
I’d been waiting for her to bring him up.
A bit of self-imposed censoring, since I felt like he was all I talked about. Sierra insisted that wasn’t the case, but the man was so heavy on my mind that it didn’t feel like a healthy ratio.
It felt like I was doing exactly what I’d been afraid of.
“And if you are?” Sierra asked, triumphantly raising the remote she’d been digging around in the cushions for. “Tatum is a good dude.”
“We thought Monty was a good dude.”
“And we weren’t wrong. Monty changed. Bit of CTE, maybe?”
I gasped. “That is not funny.”
“Bitch ain’t nobody joking!” she shot back, with a laugh that contradicted that. “Like, for real. I’ve wondered. He changed.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “And I honestly think it was just that, change. It happens. People grow up. And apart.”
“Sure. But character is character. And growing up and apart shouldn’t make you betray someone’s trust, break their heart, disregard their feelings, unless you have a character issue. Or CTE.”
“Sierra!”
“Just you wait.”
“On what?”
“The autopsy.”
“You’re not seeing heaven, you know that?”
“What’d I do?” she laughed, shaking her head. “Anyway, back to niggas named Tatum, who actually matter… you’re bugging. You know you wanna ride off in the sunset on horseback with that man.”
“That’s exactly the problem!” I laughed.
“You’re just a lover girl at heart, Rori. You can’t help it.”
“But I need to help it. I don’t need to be head over heels for anybody, I need to be finding myself, healing, dating, seeing what else is out there.”
“But that’s not you. It’s never been you.”