As my coworker Drucilla would say, “What-the-fuck-ever, man.”
“Kate,” he called after me. “Keep up the good work.”
“Thanks, Walter, I will,” I said. I waited until I was down the hall before finishing my sentence. “You asshole.”
Sean Donovan
I passed the joint to Leon, the three-hundred-eighty-pound lineman slouched on the couch next to me, and blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.
I squinted at the screen and nudged him with my elbow. “Okay, man, watch this catch…”
“I’m watching, motherfucker,” he said with the joint at his lips.
On the big screen was the video of yesterday’s game against the Chiefs. I was lined up wide-out right, and Leon Lewis, the black monster sitting next to me, was blocking right of center.
When the center hiked the ball to Matt Murphy, our quarterback, Leon blocked like a fucking brick wall to give me time to run down field so Matt could hit me with the ball.
“Here’s it comes…” I said, leaning forward with my fists clenched. “Watch this catch.”
A split second later, Murphy launched a long spiral that fell perfectly into my hands as I ran into the end zone. I jumped off the couch and did a happy dance.
“Touchdown, Sean motherfucking Donovan!” I yelled, throwing my arms in the air and dancing around. I glanced down at Leon and clapped my hands. “Did you see that fucking catch?”
Leon waved a huge hand at me and rolled his eyes. “Man, my granny could have caught that fucking pass.”
“Bullshit!” I said, reaching for the joint. “Let’s see your fat black ass run downfield and catch a ball like that.”
He chuckled and snorted smoke. “Shit man, my fat black ass is too busy giving Matt Murphy time to throw. I swear, that motherfucker moves in slow motion sometimes.”
I grinned and dropped back on the couch beside him. I took a long hit on the joint and passed it back his way. I choked out the words through the smoke.
“Yeah, but when he does throw it, it usually hits the mark.”
“Fucking A,” Leon said, taking the joint, which looked tiny between his thick fingers. “I’m getting hungry. You got anything to eat?”
I grinned at him. “There’s pussy in the bedroom.”
He made a face and shook his head. “I’m tired of eating pussy, man. Got any pizza?”
“I’ll go see.” I gave him a nod and worked my way off the couch again.
My knees were wobbly. I held my hands out like a surfer to steady myself as I stepped over sleeping bodies, empty booze bottles, and crushed beer cans on my way to the kitchen.
The victory party after yesterday’s game had been at my mansion last night, so the place was a wreck. In every room there were passed-out football players and naked cheerleaders, and maybe a groupie or two. No wives or girlfriends were ever allowed at the victory parties. That’s why the guys in relationships either didn’t show up or lied about where they were going.
I made it to the kitchen without stepping on anyone and pulled the freezer door open. It was one of those big stainless steel freezers, and one side was stacked with frozen pizzas.
I pulled out two Supremes and shoved them in the double ovens. Funny, I had a gourmet kitchen, but only knew how to cook pizzas and Pop Tarts. And I usually burned the shit out of those.
I leaned down and squinted to set the timers. I had no idea if I’d set the temperature or the timers correctly. I was too fucked up to concern myself about such things. And too fucked up to care.
I yelled at Leon. “Hey, if you smell smoke, that means the pizza is ready.”
“Heard,” he said. I couldn’t believe Leon was even awake. We’d been drinking and smoking dope for twelve hours, but somehow, he had managed to put on a video game and was killing zombies on the big screen like Daryl motherfucking Dixon from The Walking Dead.
“Gotta piss...” I said to no one in particular. I paused long enough to reach into the fridge for another beer, then dragged my feet from the kitchen and up the stairs to the master bedroom. I had to piss like a racehorse and there was a chick passed out sitting on the downstairs toilet. I had no idea who she was. Nice tits, though.
I gripped the railing with my free hand and pulled myself up the stairs. It was the house rule that my bedroom was off limits during parties. It was the only room in the house that hadn’t been invaded by my guests.