Page 1 of Smoke After Hours

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Pot Palace: A shared New York co-op of cannabis connoisseurs owned by Maverick Enterprises.

VOLLEY

“Doyou think we can still get pussy in heaven?”

I laughed at my friend Messiah’s words as he passed over the metal container that contained the blunts we’d rolled in the morning using Juicy Jay’s Blackberry Brandy rolling paper.

I hadn’t been in a mood for any flavored shit, but blackberry brandy was Messiah’s favorite and his week had been fucked upafter he caught his girl sucking his old boss’ dick. The very boss that fired him last year for no good reason.

“Nigga, fuck if I know. We betta be able to get some in heaven though.”

“What about hell?” he asked. “You think the devil approves fuckin’? ‘Cause if so, that’s the kind of energy I’m on.”

I shook my head as Messiah started listing his pros and cons list for heaven versus hell. We were in the Buzz Lounge of Pot Palace, our own Brooklyn, New York co-op housing sanctuary that was filled with residents who shared one common fact …

We didn’t just like weed.

We were obsessed with the shit.

And after work hours, all the roommates came together at Pot Palace.

Messiah had gotten a head start, understandably, but I couldn’t let my guy get high alone when his heart was broken. After lighting the blunt, I took a few puffs, letting the weed work its magic.

“I thought I was gonna marry that distrustful ass bitch,” he huffed, puffing circles into the air.

Damn.Messiah never called a woman out of her name. He was more like one of those talk-to-your-girl-the-way-you-would-your-mama kind of dudes.

Not before long, we were joined by Ryan and Jake, partners in business and love who owned a dance studio a couple blocks away.

“He still sulking?” Ryan asked.

I snorted, raising an eyebrow as I gave him a what-do-you-think look. “We’re working through it,” I answered for Messiah’s benefit.

“For real though,” Messiah stated, so much smoke around him, anyone in the vicinity could probably get high off contact. “If they ain’t got pussy in heaven, why the fuck are we allworking so hard for the big dude to let us through those pearly gates?”

Ryan scoffed, lighting a blunt. “Hell nah. Pussy ain’t present in my heaven. When I dream of it, all I see are gold-plated dicks and Blair Underwood lookalikes.”

I chuckled. “Blair Underwood? Seriously?”

“Boy, don’t get him started,” Jake warned, waving a hand in the air. “I learned last week that he hadn’t seenSet It Off, so I had us watch it together and he got hooked on Blair Underwood’s character, Keith.”

“Because homie was killing his role as Jada Pickett’s love interest,” Ryan explained. “With his smooth waves and that thin mustache. The kind of mustache that teased your insides every time he smirked in that movie.”

I gripped my stomach as I bent over in laughter as Ryan twisted one of his long, blue braids around his finger while he looked up at the ceiling.

Jake leaned over and muttered, “Just give him a moment. He’s probably imagining Blair Underwood naked right now with a gold-plated dick.”

We continued to smoke for several minutes while Ryan stayed in his own Blair-induced fog until he clapped his hands together, the sound getting our attention.

“Okay, moment’s over. But my man Blair is underrated. What Tyler Perry needs to do is call up that man and put him in a few of his movies.”

“He was in a Tyler Perry movie already,” I pointed out.

“Which one?” he asked.

“Madea’s Family Reunion.”

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