Page 84 of Waiting for Friday Night

Quinton nodded and brushed past Khris. Brian walked out with him. Once they were outside, Brian stopped Quinton.

“What you said in there? Was it true?”

“I wish it wasn’t.” Quinton shifted from foot to foot. Frustration and anger coursed through him. He’d let Khris get to him. He stopped moving and took a deep breath.

“He broke your leg?”

“He tormented me since eighth grade.”

“And no one did anything?” Brian looked ready to go back in the bar and confront Khris.

Quinton put a hand on Brian’s shoulder before he could move. “My family didn’t have money and his did. Story of kids all over this damn world.”

Brian pointed over his shoulder. “What are you going to do about him?”

“Nothing. He’s only here for a short time. After tonight, he shouldn’t have anything else to do with me. I’m good.”

“You sure?” Brian’s tone and questioning expression said he was ready to handle Khris if Quinton wanted him to.

Quinton was human enough to admit he was tempted to go off on Khris with the backing of his two best friends, but he wouldn’t. He’d gotten what he needed to say off his chest. He just hadn’t expected to feel so exposed. Raw. His leg ached with the phantom pain of the break years ago, and his heart felt stomped on just as it had when the school said they were just “playing around” and hadn’t pressed charges against Khris. He appreciated his friend’s concern, but right now he needed a moment to regroup.

So he gave his friend a confident smile and lied. “I’m good.”

Twenty-Six

The house was quiet when Quinton got home. Thankfully. His parents went to bed early and his sister typically went into her room to log on and finish off work.

He went into the kitchen and immediately saw the homemade carrot cake sitting on the counter. He smiled, some of the pain from earlier easing. There was one good thing about having his parents here. His mom loved to cook and bake.

He was cutting a slice when the light in the kitchen turned on. He turned and spotted his dad by the door.

“Damn, boy, you almost gave me a heart attack.” He put a hand over his heart.

Quinton’s lips twitched. “My bad. What are you doing sneaking down here?”

Willie pointed at the cake. “Same thing you’re doing. Your mom is finally asleep, so I figured I’d get another slice of cake.”

Quinton slid the cake across the island. His dad grinned as he picked up the cake slicer and cut a piece.

“I’m glad Mom picked up baking recently,” Quinton said.

“Your mom always loved to bake. She would try to make you and your sister’s birthday cakes. It was the one time she’d splurge at the grocery store and buy real butter.”

“I remember her making birthday cakes, when she had the time.”

Willie settled on one of the chairs around the island. “She had to work more as you got older and stopped baking as much. She didn’t have a lot of time to do what she wanted.” He took a bite of cake.

“You both worked hard to provide for us. I’m glad she has the time to bake now.”

His dad let out a heavy breath. “Seems like we were always working back then. Trying to pay for your sister’s doctor bills and give you both what you needed, but it was never enough.”

Quinton squeezed his dad’s shoulder. “It was enough. We turned out alright.”

Willie chuckled and patted his hand. “You did. All the way to play professional football. We’re proud of you.”

“I know you are. I couldn’t have had a better dad.”

A shadow flashed across his father’s face, before he shook his head and grinned. “Sure you wouldn’t have wanted someone richer?”

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