The alarm pulled Joe out of sleep. He stumbled to the bathroom and blinked at his reflection. Across his chest were lipstick smears and base blotches. Christy’s make up was all over him, his arms, his neck, his face, even his ears. Every guy at JC’s had seen it on him last night. Or had they? Most of them were pretty close to wasted. But why hadn’t Darryl told him? Yeah, like Darryl would. If Mama saw this shit on him not even Jesus and a legion of angels could save him. Damn! His clothes. It must be on his clothes too.

  Joe dashed back to his room. On the floor, in a wad, were his clothes. He picked up the shirt. Light beige smears colored the neck. Lipstick ran the length of one sleeve.

  There was a knock on his door. Mama. God no. Joe shoved the shirt under his mattress.

  Mama asked, “You awake son?”

  “Yes.”

  “Want some eggs?”

  “After my shower.”

  “Okay.”

  He waited for her to leave his door before he risked going back to the bathroom. When he heard her clank a pan onto the stove, he slowly opened the door and ran to the bathroom.

  The shower knob squealed. Cold water struck his body. Dumb ass. He should have let it warm up first. The make up wasn’t coming off with water and soap. Cream, didn’t Mama use some kind of cream to get hers off? Where was that?

  He got out of the shower and found her face cream. He smeared it over each make up mark on him, then got back in the shower. In the now hot water, every trace of Christy melted off his body.

  When he finished his shower, Mama was waiting for him in the kitchen. She spooned scrambled eggs onto a plate for him. She said, “I heard you had a good game last night.”

  Without making eye contact he said, “Yeah.”

  “Don’t you want to tell me about it?I heard you made an amazing touchdown.”

  The game seemed so far away, like it happened to somebody else.

  “You okay son?”

  He knew she was looking at him and expected him to look at her. But he couldn’t. He was too afraid of what she might read in his eyes. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  He could feel her eyes boring into his soul. She asked, “What did you do last night?”

  “Darryl and I hung out at JC’s and played a little pool.”

  “You know I don’t like that place.”

  “I know.”

  “Is that the only place you went?”

  Why did she have to ask that? Lying never worked with Mama. She always saw straight through his lies. Always. He mumbled, “Christy Thorton had some people over. We stayed there a little while, then left.”

  “What was that like?”

  Oh God. She did not want to know. Joe shoved some eggs into his mouth. “Mmm, these are good Mama.”

  “Thanks. Was the house big and fancy?”

  “Yes, Mama. It was. Hard wood floors, expensive rugs, leather furniture. Some day we will have a place like that.”

  Mama sighed. She sat down at the table and took Joe’s hand. “You know baby, we are already rich in the blessings that matter.”

  Joe didn’t comment. He wanted to be rich in THINGS!

  *

  By some miracle Joe managed to work his entire shift without seeing Mr. Thorton. After clocking out, he headed for the double doors. They opened. Christy stepped through, tossed her head and glared at him. He heard Mr. Thorton's office door open. Christy’s glare instantly turned into a big fake smile. Her eyes became wild and bright. Loudly she said, “We sure had fun last night, didn’t we Joe?”

  Mr. Thorton asked, “What?”

  “Joe and me had fun last night didn’t we?”

  Before Joe could answer Mr. Thorton asked, “What kind of fun?”

  She was going to get him killed. Joe stared at her begging her with his eyes.

  In a low growl, Mr. Thorton said, “Answer me.”

  Christy blushed, Joe knew it wasn’t real.

  “Not that kind Dad. I was talking about the game. We won. Joe ran, I cheered, it was great.”

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  For a second Mr. Thorton was silent and then he asked, “Is that how you two know each other?”

  “Yes."

  Mr. Thorton said, “You two are just friends.” There was something about his tone that chilled Joe.

  Christie giggled. “Yes. That’s all. Right Joe?”

  Though afraid, Joe turned back toward Mr. Thorton and nodded. He needed this job and she could get him fired on the spot. “If you would excuse me Sir, my shift is over.”

  Mr. Thorton didn't look at him. His eyes were fixed on Christy. An odd energy passed between father and daughter. Joe bolted through the double doors. As they swung shut he heard Christy say, “Call me Joe.”

  *

  The bike ride home had been brisk. Parked in the street outside his apartment was Purple Bomb. In the front seat propped back and asleep, was Darryl. Joe rode passed him, but didn’t bother to wake him. He went to the door and unlocked it. Mama was at work. As Joe wheeled his bike inside, Darryl climbed out of the car and came through the open apartment door. He stretched and yawned. “What took you so long?”

  Instead of answering Joe asked, “Why didn’t you just come pick me up?”

  “What and waste more gas on you? I don’t think so.”

  While Joe put his bike in his room, the phone rang. He yelled, "Would you get that?"

  “Who do you think I am your personal secretary?”

  "Well you do have boobs."

  "Hey don't be diss'n my man boobs!" Darryl picked up the phone and said, "Hello?" Pause, "Joe its your Maamaa!"

  Joe went into the kitchen. He took the phone. "Hey."

  "Hey. I will be pulling a double shift tonight. Cindy's baby has the flu. You got any plans?"

  "Not yet but me and Darryl might do something."

  "Let me know. I gotta go, and tell Darryl he best not touch my cake. Its for church. Love you honey."

  "Love you too." Joe hung up the phone.

  Darryl lifted the top off the cake plate. His eyes got big. "Can I have some?"

  “Mama said it’s for church.”

  To the cake, Darryl whispered, "Me and you tomorrow." He went to the refrigerator and opened it.

  "Get out of there."

  "I'm hungry."

  "You're always hungry."

  "If you don't feed me I'm leaving."

  Joe opened the pantry and pulled out a bag of pretzels. "Here."

  Darryl frowned.

  Joe went into the living room and flipped on the TV. The Oklahoma Sooners were on the sidelines. The commentator's voice was loud and excited. Joe plopped down on the couch. Darryl dove onto the cushion beside him. He wasn't eating pretzels he was eating cookies.

  "What are you doing with those?"

  Darryl held up the bag. Written in big Sharpie letters was the word, Darryl. "Your mama left these for me special." She had. That's just how Mama was. For a few minutes Darryl munched contentedly and then he seized the remote and flipped the channel.

  “What the hell!” Joe exclaimed. “I am trying to watch football.”

  “Don’t you ever get tired of that mess.”

  The truth was he didn’t. He took the remote away from Darryl and changed the channel back. At half time he let Darryl channel surf. Darryl complained, “When is your mama gonna get cable?” Before Joe could answer Darryl stood up and shouted, “Never! Never! Sista Vanessa knows that cable is the devil’s workshop, pornographic poison to a young man’s soul!"

  Joe hit him in the stomach. “Shut up.”

  Before Darryl could respond the phone rang. Joe jumped up to answer it. It was probably just Mama. He picked up the receiver and said, “Hey.”

  The voice that responded to his was not Mama’s, it was Christy’s. Suddenly Joe felt nervous. How had she gotten his number? She said, “Uh, Joe, want to go for a ride? I'll pick you up at your apartment around eight?” How did she know where he lived? “Joe, did you hear me?”

  A thousand thoughts rushed through his brain. Last night he had not known what he was getting himself into, today he did. Still, he heard himself say, “Uh, yeah. Sure. See you at eight.”

  “Okay.” The line went dead.

  With a trembling hand, Joe hung up the phone