Play The Game by Doug Dixon

Play The Game by Doug Dixon

Author:Doug Dixon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2007-10-14T16:00:00+00:00


Later that night I was really hungry. It would have been nice if Darryl was in town to grab dinner together at a nice restaurant. Instead I went home and cooked some baked chicken, yellow rice, and a green salad. I sat at my dining room table with the lights down and my candles lit and had a nice dinner, sipping on the wine Stephanie and Tangie left the night before. In the middle of my intimate evening, Darryl called me on my cell phone. I turned up the lights in the dining room as I answered.

“Hey, baby. How do you feel?”

“Fine,” I snapped.

“Are you still sick?”

“Nope,” I replied sharply.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Nothing—just having dinner alone, that’s all.”

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

I was silent.

“Mya, what’s going on?” Darryl repeated.

“Well, Darryl, where should I begin? Let’s see. I’m sick as a dog and you can’t even come by for a minute to check on me before you go out of town. I didn’t hear from you yesterday, and now you call me tonight like everything is fine.”

“Wait, what are you trying to say?”

“I’m not trying to say nothing. It is what it is,” I replied.

“Damn, Mya. Did you ask me about my day? Did you bother to call me? C’mon, it works both ways. I’m under a lot of pressure at work. I can’t do everything.”

“Can’t you make more of an effort, at least?” I asked.

“Damn, where is all of this coming from? I called to let you know I miss you and you come at me like I just don’t give a fuck about you.”

I was quiet.

“Look, I apologize if I’m not more attentive but you have to meet me halfway,” Darryl continued.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“I know I’m not perfect—”

“I’m not asking you to be perfect, Darryl. I just want you to be more considerate that’s all. I needed you and you weren’t there for me is all I’m saying.”

Darryl paused. “Why does it always have to be me that’s fucking up? I don’t complain about your shit.”

“What shit?” I replied, defensive.

“When you don’t call, I don’t take it personally,” he said.

“I do call—you just never pick up the phone.”

“You know what, Mya? You’re making this argument too personal.”

“Too personal? You’re supposed to be my man and I can’t get you to pick up the phone when I call. I’ve noticed how you ignore your calls sometime.”

“Your man? Hold on, Mya. I thought we were taking it one step at a time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Now you’re labeling our friendship?”

“Friendship? What friendship? We got beyond friends when we were intimate,” I replied.

“Hold up a minute—it’s obvious we have a lot to talk about. Our understanding of this is completely mixed up,” Darryl said firmly.

I stood there holding the phone, completely stunned. “What? How can you say that? What about all the time we spent together and the nights we—”

“We were enjoying our passion at the moment,” Darryl interrupted.

Tears began to well in my eyes. “Are you out of your fucking mind? I don’t ‘enjoy passion’ with a friend like that.



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