Page 382 of The Tempted

I ran the fuck away from that room, from Kitten and from Pea.

Pea.

I had a Pea.

The door across from mine opened and Bones stood in the doorway.

“Was wondering when you were going come out of hiding,” he said, smugly. “You all right bro, you’re looking a little green,” he observed.

I pushed him aside and brushed past him as I walked into his room.

“Man, I’m fucked,” I stressed.

He stuck his head into the hallway, looking from left to right before he shut the door and leaned his back against it.

“So congratulations would be the wrong thing to say?” He mocked.

“Laugh it up,” I seethed, pacing his room, running my fingers through my hair tugging at the ends. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

He sighed, walking toward his dresser and opened a cigar box he kept on top of it. He pulled a perfectly rolled joint from inside, lifted it to his nose, breathing in the scent of the herb as he reached for a lighter and lit that shit up.

“You talk to her?” he asked.

“Barely,” I confessed, watching him as he took the first toke. “I think she’s just as fucked as me but hides it better,” I said, reaching for the joint.

“So, she’s going to keep it?”

“She’s named it already!” I said, coughing up smoke.

Bones covered his mouth to hide the laughter.

Bastard.

“Seriously, man, I’m drowning here,” I cried, taking a long drag of the joint. “My life isn’t cut for a kid. I don’t even have a car! What am I supposed to do? Strap a sidecar onto my bike?”

He took the joint from my hand and outright laughed at me. I glared at him and flipped him the bird.

“Look, you’ve got nine months to figure it out. Isn’t that how long a woman is pregnant for?”

Nine months of freedom.

Nine months to live the rest of my life.

Nine months wasn’t a very long time.

“It could be worse, bro,” he said. “At least your baby mama is hot as hell,” he took another puff. “That’s a plus,” he continued.

“Dude, I have a baby mama. Just stop right there,” I sighed heavily. “Man, I don’t want a kid. I don’t know the first thing about being a father. My old man was never around, always chasing a dollar or a dream. He thought being a father meant handing me a trust fund,” I explained. “I never had a dad so how the fuck am I supposed to be one?”

Bones crushed the joint into an ashtray and looked back at me.

“You do everything he never did,” he urged. “You man the fuck up because twenty years from now you don’t want your kid saying the same words you just did.”

Twenty years from now? I couldn’t think about twenty minutes from now.

“Don’t do that shit,” he criticized. “Don’t be my old man.”

Bones’ dad skipped out on him and his mom before he was even born.

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