Dough Boys by Paula Chase

Author:Paula Chase
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-07-04T16:00:00+00:00

Simp

Chrissy was pushing up against him.

Simp pressed in, wanting to explore. She raised her arm to serve the ball and the roundness of her butt pulled away, just enough to make Simp want to jerk forward and close the gap. Then just as quickly, she hit the ball and was back on him pressing gently but enough to—

His mother’s voice yanked him out of the dream.

“Deontae. Deontae, get up.”

He sat up, half his mind still in the dream, and slammed his back against the headboard to jolt himself into the present. The tension in his groin was so tight no way his mother didn’t see the tent in his sheet. How long had she been standing there? Had he been moaning? A mixture of anger and guilt gave him the courage to yell back, “I’m up, Ma. Dang.”

He just wanted her yapping to stop. Calling his name like it was going out of style or something.

“Don’t you cuss at me, boy,” she said, determined to get the upper hand in an argument he didn’t feel like having. He didn’t hear anger in her voice. He took his chances and lipped back.

“‘Dang’ ain’t cussing. Did you wake me up just to fight with me?”

“No. I need talk to you,” she said.

Simp picked up his phone, staring at the time. “It’s only eight o’clock, Ma. Dang.”

She pursed her lips. “I know that. It’s important, Deontae. Meet me downstairs.” She took a step then paused, eyes narrowed. “You can go back to your little nasty dream later.”

Her laughter rang in the narrow hallway.

Simp threw the sheets off. His mother was wild. He wouldn’t have been able to go back to the dream if he wanted to now. He pulled on a T-shirt and quietly made his way down the stairs.

The smell of bacon pulled him the rest of the way. Every seat at the rickety fake wood table was open, but he sat in his seat—the only chair with its back to the kitchen wall. From there he could see if anyone came through the kitchen’s back door or the living room’s front door. Only suckers sat with their backs to a door.

His mother was at the stove, nudging at the bacon in the frying pan.

“What’s up, Ma?” He fought a yawn and swiped at random locs spilling into his face. Getting him up early was one thing, but his mother was cooking. He wondered how much she wanted this time.

Sure enough, she turned on the sugar and her voice lost its usual sharp edge.

“It’s about your brothers.”

What was he ready to be blamed for now? A bad grade? Did somebody get into a fight at school? He clamped his mouth shut. If he was gonna get blamed for something, she was just gonna have to lay it out.

His mother’s smile became a dissatisfied tight line. She gave him another second but Simp remained quiet. She rolled her eyes, snatching a piece of bacon out of the pan and slapping it onto a paper towel.

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