The Game (That Girl, #2)(28)

“Jazzy,” Jewels’ voice grabs my attention, “this is my little boy, Ruger.”

I notice a little boy about two years old sitting on the couch next to Jewels. I say little because I can tell he is young, but in all reality he is huge. His chubby cheeks, rolly-polly legs peeking out of his shorts, and plump little toes are just too much.

“Remember the giant?” Lynlee asks.

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s his dad. Ruger is measuring the same size as four, almost five year olds, and he isn’t even two yet.”

“He’s huge and very cute.”

I say it before thinking, because like his dad, that’s the only thought that comes to mind.

“I can’t imagine your grocery bill.”

“You don’t even want to know, Jazzy.”

“Or how bad your back hurts.”

“Oh my god, or how stretched your vajayjay is,” Jenni adds.

This time I don’t roll my eyes at her comment. Rather I find myself thinking about it. It’s one of those topics I’d never talk about, but you know it’s the one everyone is thinking about.

“Oh, I had plenty of stitches, and Tiny even asked for an extra few for good measure.”

The look on Lynlee’s face is comical. I’m pretty sure she turned three shades of green. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope, just you wait, Lynlee. You’re lucky, though, because your babies probably won’t be very big.”

“You can bet your sweet ass one of those things will never be sliding its way out of my crotch,” Jenni says.

“I agree with you on that one, Jenni.”

First smart thing the girl has said.

“Let’s head out back, and Ruger can play a bit on the grass,” Jewels suggests.

We all follow her back down the narrow hallway, and I watch as she has Ruger perched on her hip. His black hair is bouncing up and down with each step Jewels takes. He has his little hand wrapped around her neck and mindlessly plays with a loose stand of her hair.

The back yard is open and beautiful. Not much fills the space other than a few soft footballs, regular footballs, a picnic table, some toy dump trucks, and a bunch of lawn chairs. The more I see of Jewels’ stuff, the more I know I could be good friends with her. It’s a no brainer why she and Lynlee are so close. I’ll admit Jenni has a lot of growing to do on me, but I trust Lynlee’s opinion.

“Oh shit, I forgot the snacks. I’ll go grab them.”

Lynlee runs back inside, leaving me with Jenni. Jewels is off setting up Ruger with a little play station in the grass. The silence between us is awkward, and I don’t even know where to begin a conversation with this woman, knowing she’s the one who taught Lynlee to do oral. Imagination overload! To my relief, she just starts chattering on and on. She pauses for a second, and I realize she’s waiting for me to answer a question.

“Oh, what was that?” I ask, embarrassed I was caught not listening.

“I asked you if you go to school, or what you do.”

“Right now, nothing. I’m not sure what I want to do. Back home I worked at a convenience store and lived with my dad. Lynlee’s trying to talk me into going to college.”

“Sweet. You should totally go to beauty school. It’s like super fun and off the hook. I just got a wee bit distracted with my last boyfriend and blew it.”

“I see.”

“So, what did you, like, want to be growing up? A princess, veterinarian, a doctor?”

“Um, actually never really thought about it. I just lived with my dad.”

“Sweet,” she responds.

Suddenly, I can appreciate Jenni’s personality. It may be annoying and a little abrasive, but very sweet and non-judgmental, and by the look of the hickies covering her neck, I can only guess she gives one hell of a BJ.

“Yeah, it’s really not that sweet. Hey, I’m going to go sit in the sun for a bit.”

I half expect Jenni to follow me over to the picnic table, but she doesn’t. It’s over in the corner of the yard, out in the warm fall sunshine. I step up on the table and realize it’s not as sturdy as it seems. I’m betting Tiny has probably weakened it a time or two. I decide to sit up on the top and rest my feet on the bench. Slipping off my shoes, I inspect the bottoms of my feet. There are tiny scabs peppering the bottoms, tender to the touch and slightly swollen.

I shake my head, looking at the mess, and hope Levi will forgive me for pressuring him so much. Ashamed of my behavior, I bury my face in my knees, soaking up all the sun I can get. The sensation prickling at my nape feels amazing. My eyelids grow heavy, and I let them win the battle. Gently shutting them, I listen to the muted background noises. Cars driving up and down a busy street, faint sounds of doors shutting, the girls talking on the back patio, Ruger’s babbles as he plays, and some nearby birds singing. I take in each noise and allow them to calm my fears one by one.

“Can I have a seat?”

The sun’s heat isn’t as intense, and my neck is stiff. I try to straighten it, wondering if I’m dreaming. You know that state between sleeping and just coming to. The place where you jump frantically with a feeling of free falling from a cliff.

“Jazzy, I’ll understand if you don’t want to talk.”

Levi. The voice is Levi’s, so it must be a dream. I feel his hand on my knee, and then brushing my hair away from my face. Picking up my head, I realize it’s not a dream. I was sleeping, but Levi is now standing before me in the dusky twilight.