Page 23 of A Scoring Chance

“Because I didn’t have time. Someone demanded I rush to The Chill Zone immediately after work.”

“What did you do now, Alise Michelle?” Ma grabs the remote and pauses whatever she’s watching on the television, giving the two of us all her attention. Ma pauses her shows for no one, and I meanno one, so she must mean business. I actually kind of feel sorry for throwing Alise under the bus.

“Moi?” Alise reels back in mock surprise. “I did nothing, Auntie. Besides, I don’t think Cooper gave two shits about what she looked like when he eye-fucked her for most of practice.”

“Language, young lady. You are never too old to have your mouth washed out with soap,” Ma chastises before whirling around and turning her attention toward me.

And here I was feeling bad for throwing Alise under the bus about not letting me come home to shower. Welp, not anymore. My mind races for some way to change the subject when Darius comes striding in to save the day.

“Trust me. It’s nasty. Ten out of ten, do not recommend it.” Darius groans before planting a kiss on Ma’s other cheek. “Hey, Nanny. I’m gonna go shower and get ready for bed.”

Darius winks at me over Ma’s head before heading through the foyer toward the other side of the house. I’m going to need to get that kid a present or something for swooping in to save the day. Now, fingers crossed that was enough of a distraction for Ma to forget everything Alise said.

“Such a good boy, unlike your two aunties here,” she coos after him before turning her attention back to us.

“Darius is such a suck-up. Besides, it’s not our fault he likes hot sauce so much,” I whisper to Alise.

When he was younger, Darius never knew when to shut up, always saying the first thing that popped into his head, so he’s had many run-ins with a bottle of hot sauce. He got hot sauce put on his tongue so much, Ma had to stop giving it to him. Apparently, he developed a taste for it, making it an ineffectiveform of punishment. It seems that soap is doing a pretty decent job in its place.

Alise bumps my shoulder, leaning toward me, trying to make sure Ma can’t hear us. “He needs to learn to fake it like we did.”

“You two never faked it. You just learned to like hot sauce after having it put on your tongue so much.” Ma crosses her arms, waiting for one of us to explain.

My eyes lock with Alise’s, begging her to keep her mouth shut about Cooper’s and my interaction at the rink. The last thing I need is Ma asking me questions about what happened, mostly because I don’t even know what happened. Sure, we had a moment. Okay, two moments, but that means nothing. Although Alise has other ideas, I’m not about to share those ideas with my mother because that will lead to more questions.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, Auntie.” Ma eyes her skeptically but motions with her hand for Alise to continue speaking. “I really didn’t. Call it preemptive measures because I didn’t want to go to jail tonight.”

“So that Sutton girl was giving you a hard time again, and you were going to use your fists instead of your words?”

Alise and I nod our heads in agreement before she smiles at Ma and says, “I’m the muscle, and our girl, Ramona, is the brains.”

That’s how it is now, but it wasn’t always that way. Imani, Alise, and I were a force to be reckoned with. I learned at a young age how to talk my way out of sticky situations. Alise was the muscle, and Imani was the perfect combination of the two of us. She was also eleven years older than us, so we called her instead of our parents when we needed bailing out, and that happened a lot more than I’d like to admit.

“Haven’t you heard the saying ‘words cut deeper than knives’?”

“Who said that? Biggie?” Alise responds, causing me to guffaw, but I slam my mouth shut the minute Ma looks my way. She’s losing her patience with the two of us, and I’m way too tired to stand here and listen to one of her tirades.

“No, you goof. It was William Chapman,” I respond quickly, trying to stop the verbal ass-whooping Alise is about to get from Ma.

“Ah. You always know what the old white dudes have to say.”

“Alise Michelle Moore,” Ma groans, readying that ass-whooping I was worried about.

I usually sit back and let it happen, laughing my ass off at my best friend's expense, but I kind of owe her for calming me down earlier, so I jump in. “Ma, what have you been up to all day? Have you even moved from that spot since you woke up this morning?”

“First, I’m a grown-ass woman and can sit in this chair for as long as I want. Second, after watching my shows, I started rewatchingMormon Wiveson Hulu.”

“I know, right? I’ve been re-watching it when I can to see if there are any clues about who the heck might have left that message for Mayci’s Sinner Sunday Confession.” Alise plops down on the couch next to Ma and pats the seat beside her.

Nothing brings a family together quite like some trashy reality television. Most women my age are out partying with their friends on a Friday night, but not us. Even if I have to work a shift at The Pit Stop, I never miss an episode ofMormon Wiveson TV. Ma has some beef with having a DVR, but we have all the streaming services, thanks to Darius. If there’s one thing people can always count on is that the King family, even Darius, can be found right here, watching whatever trashy television show has piqued our interest.

“I haven’t been able to think of anything else since the season ended last month.”

“I’ll make some popcorn while you get the episode started from the beginning,” Ma says as she throws off the blanket covering her lap and pushes herself up off the couch. Thankfully, her cane is sitting right on the other side of the couch arm, making it easier for her to move around the house.

I eye Ma as she makes her way slowly toward the kitchen. She’s almost sixty-five years old and moves around much slower than she used to, but I’m not about to tell her that. However, when she’s shuffling past me, I notice something out of the ordinary. “Ma, you aren’t dressed.”

My ma, who wouldn’t be caught dead wearing sweatpants, is in fact wearing a pair of dark gray sweatpants with a matching zip-up hoodie layered over a green T-shirt. What in the actual fuck is going on right now? Her patented pixie cut was styled perfectly when we came home, not a hair out of place, as per her usual. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, but it makes sense she chose not to put any on since she didn’t plan on leaving the house at all today.

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