Page 6 of F*ckin’ With Me

We were eating on the back deck of my father’s house.

I had the house built for him a few years ago.

It took a lot of convincing because he didn’t want to let go of the house that he and my mom owned.

They purchased the house when my mom was pregnant with Rissa.

When I told him that we could keep the property and use it as a short-term rental property, he said absolutely not.

The thought of strangers living in his house was too much.

It wasn’t until my sister said she wanted to live there that he allowed me to start building a house.

My sister made renovations to the house with my father’s permission.

He loved what she did with it, especially the mural wall of our mom.

Rissa craved to know everything about her.

Our mother was a seamstress and a cosmetologist, so when Rissa told our father and me that she wanted to be a stylist, we weren’t surprised.

“Yes, Pops, everything is ready to go. The event is like two months away. I think we have a little time before we determine that it’s creeping up on us.” I put a forkful of macaroni in my mouth.

One of the first things my father made me do was hire a financial planner and accountant.

It was one of the best decisions I ever made.

Over the years, I picked up endorsements from sneakers and sports drink brands.

Those were cool, but when I got the deal from a vehicle brand, I felt like I made it.

Not only did a nigga drive a Hellcat, but he was the face of them too.

I also owned several fast-food franchises that would always make me money. I loved baseball, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to play it forever. I wanted to set myself up for my future. Whenever I met my wife, I wanted us to have no worries at all.

“Day, those two months are going to come and go. Your event planner deserves a raise,” my father said.

“Oh, she’s getting a raise alright,” Rashad mumbled.

My eyes bucked, and I choked a little on the rib meat I had in my mouth.

When my father didn’t say anything, I assumed he didn’t hear it.

I didn’t feel like hearing his mouth about that.

I fucked the event planner before she was my event planner.

I didn’t want to discriminate and not hire her because my dick had seen her mouth and pussy. That would have been wrong.

We ate and talked about other shit. Rissa was in Charlotte, styling one of her clients who played for the Carolina Cougars.

When it was time to go, my pops stopped me.

“I heard what Shad said about that damn event planner. I thought I told you to stop fuckin’ with females who can fuck with your money. Get your loose dick together, nigga.”

I was about to crack a joke until I saw a twinge of disappointment in my pop’s eyes.

When I was younger, before I got into baseball, I saw that twinge a lot.

I got into so much bullshit I had no business getting in.

My father was determined to not let the streets raise me, and that was why he brought baseball into my life.

The more involved I got with baseball, the less I saw that twinge.

“I got you, Pops. I got you.” I gave him a hug then left.

My house was only fifteen minutes away from my pops’. I stayed in Augusta when it was on season. In the off season, most of my time was spent in Atlanta, where I had a condo.

I was ready to get into bed by the time I got home.

The lil’ throwback that tried to suck me off earlier was in my damn text messages.

I never knew my throwbacks’ names. When I put them in my phone, I used a unique identifier so I would know who I was talking to.

I updated the throwback from earlier name in my contact list before practice started.

Tooth fairy TB:

Hey Daddy! U want me 2 finish what we started earlier.

Me:

Now Ik I told you not 2 call me dat shit.

Tooth fairy TB:

Sorry babe! U want me 2 finish. If U tell me where U are I can b there soon.

She must have thought I was a fool. I never brought females to my house, ever. Bitches those days would set you up faster than nail glue dried. Wait! I looked at my watch.

Me:

Da bus runs this late? If it does U should take that shit to where Ur mind went thinkin’ U was comin’ here.

I didn’t wait for a response before I blocked her ass. Delusional bitches had to be cut off at the head. It didn’t matter how small the delusion was.

I was about to finally lay my ass down when my secondary phone rang. It was a phone line I had since college. Very few people had the number; plus, the phone was in my father’s name. I didn’t recognize the number. “Yo, who dis?”

No one spoke, although I heard breathing. That was some creep shit. Just as I was about to hang up, a voice finally spoke. “Um, hi. Is this Daylen Smith?”

My brow hitched. I was too tired for this shit. “Who the fuck is this?”

“Oh, um, this is Simonette Brand. I’m not sure if you remember me.” Her voice was soft. It was hard to not remember a name like Simonette. Plus, she did tutor me for like two years. I wasn’t the kind of nigga who forgot people who helped me.

My brows kissed near the bridge of my nose. “Yeah, I remember you. You were my tutor in college. Why are you calling me? I haven’t spoken to you in umpteen years.”

I knew she wasn’t calling me on some secret baby shit because we never fucked. She didn’t seem like the type that would fall off into drugs and beg anyone. Well, at least back then, she didn’t. Life got a lot of people when they least expected it.

“Oh, okay. Well, I . . . um. I was calling because I needed a favor. Do you remember at graduation that you told me if I ever needed anything, that you had me?” she asked. She couldn’t be serious.

My titter was low. “I mean, yeah, I said that. It’s just something that you say. People don’t really mean it like call me years later on that shit.”

“Oh, okay, yeah, you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking . . . stupid.” She mumbled the last part. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

It didn’t seem like much had changed about her timidness. Curiosity came over me. I wanted to know what her favor was. “Wait! What did you need? Some money or something?” After she told me no, I was even more confused. “Well, shit, what you need, Simonette?”

“Well, my sister is getting married next weekend, and I kinda told her that I have a boyfriend, but I don’t. I need someone to pretend to be my boyfriend for a few days. I can pay you,” she rambled.

I didn’t mean to laugh, but how the fuck could I not? “Yo! You can’t be serious. You want me to play your fake boyfriend? Me!”

There was a light huff on the other line. “Yes, I did. I know it’s stupid. Never mind. Please forget I asked.”

She hung up, and my ass was still laughing. Females had lost their fucking minds. Let me go to damn bed. For all I knew, I was already sleeping and having a crazy ass dream.

"Bro! You’re jokin’ right?” Rashad’s laughter was hard and loud. “There is no way a chick asked you to be her fake boyfriend for her sister’s wedding. That shit is bonkers.”

We finished practice a few hours before and were at his spot chilling.

I’d just told him about the crazy ass call that I got from Simonette that night.

“Nah, I’m not. I wish I was.” I shook my head.

“I haven’t seen that chick since graduation day, then boom!

She wants to hold on to an empty statement I made about if she ever needed anything, that I had her. ”

“I told you that, as much of an asshole as you are, you are a giving nigga. You should have never told that girl that,” Rashad said. “Ole girl must be ugly as fuck to have to need a fake boyfriend. Shit is tragic.”

I thought about the Simonette that I remembered.

“Nah, if she still looks like she did in college, she’s far from ugly.

She was just your typical, awkward black girl.

You know, the never cared about her appearance, wore baggy sweats, dirty sneakers, and hair always in a bun, kinda girl.

The one time she did dress up, it was for a graduation party that I invited her to.

” I took a sip of my beer and stared off.

“She wore a damn dress you would wear to damn church.”

“Have you looked her up on social media?” Rashad asked. When I told him that I hadn’t thought to, he pulled out his laptop. “Let’s get to that shit. Hell, I want you to do the shit regardless because I’m coming too. Weddings mean lonely pussy.”

He had a point. I told him her name as I remembered it. When he entered her name into the search engine, the first thing that popped up was an article about a criminal murder case. We scanned the article. “Wow, I see she accomplished her goal. She wanted to be a forensic scientist back in college.”

There were several articles about cases that she’d been the lead forensic investigator on.

She was featured in an article about her work with an organization that worked to exonerate people who were wrongfully convicted and her goal to lessen the number of sexual assault kits in the state.

“Damn, seems like she’s great at her job.

She’s also not ugly, but yeah. I can tell she’s a Lavender kind of chick,” Rashad pointed out.

I chuckled at his reference to my sister’s favorite movie. “Let’s see if she has an IG page or something,” I said. “Maybe she’s different in her personal life.”

“You could be right,” he said. He looked her up on the blue book first. Yeah, she had a page, but she didn’t post much. She was tagged in more pictures than she had on her page. “That must be her sister.”

Simonette’s sister was beautiful like her. “They’re polar opposites in vibes, but they look alike.” I pointed at the screen. “Shit, they’re their mother’s twin on some doppelganger shit.”

Rashad’s eyes cut to me with that familiar look that told me I was about to be someone’s fake boyfriend. “Dude, get the details from her ass. If you don’t want to do it, then I will.”

“Let’s look a little more into her. I’ll make my decision after that.

” We scoured her social media to find that in most of the pictures she took, she was in the attire that I remembered was her favorite outfit, oversized sweats.

If she wasn’t in that, she was in what looked like work clothes.

All the pictures she was tagged in, she was dressed completely different, and she looked uncomfortable. None of her smiles met her eyes.

I pulled out my phone then went to her number in my call log. My decision was made. She picked up the line right before it went to voicemail. “Hello.”

“Aye, I want to meet to discuss this fake boyfriend thing. When and where do you want to meet?” She said it was a wedding weekend, so I needed to know what I had gotten myself into.