A House Is Not a Home by James Earl Hardy

Author:James Earl Hardy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

Montee squeezed him tight. “Sade said it’s never as good as the first time. She lied.”

They laughed. They were soaking in the master garden tub, Mitchell between Montee’s legs.

Mitchell shifted to face him. “You were as tasty as ever.”

“So were you.”

“And freaky as ever.”

“Ditto.”

“And, you broke your rule, again.”

“Say what?”

“No hanky-panky, no spanky-spanky, remember?”

“I broke it? I think I had some help.”

“It was your rule, not mine.”

“Uh-huh. Well, rules are made to be broken; at least mine are, by me.”

“Don’t tell me: Bette Davis in Death on the Nile, right?”

“Yeah. How you know?”

“They showed it the other night on AMC.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“It was okay. The book was better.”

“Ain’t it always?”

“Mmm-hmm. I take it you’re still a mystery buff . . . ?”

“Yup. When I’m on the road, I take an audiovox with me so I can watch my favorite episodes of Columbo. I wish they’d release ’em on DVD. I’ve had to rerecord them all. The tapes were old and I wore them out.”

“Uh-huh. Just like me—but in a jood way.”

“You know it. Uh, where does that word come from, anyway?”

I might as well tell him . . . “My ex.”

“You mean the ex?”

“Yes, the ex.”

“Ah. Not only does he have jood taste, he’s a clever brother. I may have to use that word in a song.”

“If you do, I expect royalties.”

“Huh?”

“After all, you never would’ve known about it if you hadn’t met me.”

“True. How you wanna be paid: cold cash or coochie coupon?”

“Hmm . . . I can’t have both?”

“Damn, you greedy.”

“And, I want a dedication in the liner notes.”

“And pushy. We’ll discuss those details if and when it happens. Ya know . . . I did dedicate a song to you on the last CD.”

“What song?”

“‘Early E’vry Midnite.’”

Mitchell had wanted to assume the song referred to him but he might not have been that Mitchell. He was glad to find out the truth. “Thanks. I love that song.”

“I figured you might.”

“Why that one?”

Montee serenaded him with the first verse. Mitchell joined him for the rest of the song.

Montee squeezed him even tighter. “I was hoping that, wherever you were, you’d hear what was in my heart.”

“I did.”

They looked at each other. It was the type of look that could be followed by only one thing . . .

Their first kiss was soft, slow, sweet, and long.

When their lips parted, they were both out of air.

“Damn,” was all Montee could muster.

“That . . . that was worth the eight-year wait,” Mitchell admitted.

“Eight years, three months, and six days,” Montee corrected. They cracked up.

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