"When you recover or discover something that nourishes your soul and brings joy, care enough about yourself to make room for it in your life."

Chris Omar Vaughn

I never meant to start liking my God-father's latest victim. I wouldn't have in a million years, suspected she'd be half the person she is, and that I would want to spend every second of my day getting to know her.
But here we are.

This wasn't the plan. And I'm usually a man with one.

It was her good looks. And her out-of-this-world smile. Her girlish voice that sounded so good saying my name. How about her sensual, bouncing walk or the best thing she has to offer: that charming, genuine personality. To the public she's an angel. And she still is in private, but when she's comfortable with you, she's an even more chaotic ball of life with a serious case of the "sillies," and positive energy.

Malcolm doesn't deserve her, and it was only a matter of time before I told him that.

Teddy and I tried registering what we'd just witnessed. Malcolm nearly beat this Kyle guy to death. It was close, he got lucky. My heart hadn't raced that much in years - since my last brawl.

I rubbed my temples and exercised deep breathing to control myself.

The whole thing was just hard to fathom: from Morgan running away in the first place to her ex showing up and then Malcolm and his shadow attacking him for essentially no reason.

Of course no one wanted the ex to show up. Hell, I almost beat his ass myself, but did it call for all that? Malcolm could've easily paid him off, or put him on a flight back to fucking Arizona.

"—I don't get paid enough for this," Teddy ranted.

My phone rang. The number wasn't saved but it was Callie, I knew it.

"Now's not a good time," I didn't hesitate to tell her.

"Why not?"

I hesitated, wondering if I should tell her what Malcolm did to her sister's ex or not.

"You know Kyle?"

"Yeah, Morgan's ex. Why, did he finally show up?"

Her voice was pitchy. I couldn't tell if she was excited or felt something like regret.

I stood up and excused myself from Teddy's company so I could finish this call down the hall, away from others.

"What do you mean 'finally show up?'"

"So I gave Kyle Malcolm's address, he was begging to get back with her. It was just a little prank-"

"Well your prank almost got him killed. I hope it was worth it to do that to your sister," I said, finally hanging up.

Callie's insufferable. I don't know her deal, just that Morgan mentioned she's not all there - some type of depression or something, schizophrenia, whatever the fuck.

I swiped the palm down my face, stressed. Malcolm crossed a line, and I hated that Morgan, and consequently myself, were in the middle of it.

When I found her in the waiting room, looking cold and afraid, I almost didn't know what to say.

I wasn't sorry that her ex got beat up for stalking her, just that she had to see it.

To be honest, I'm more pissed she couldn't confront Malcolm and finally end things.

"—I don't want to be here. I don't want to be touched right now, and I don't want to hear about Malcolm," she let out, hardly making eye contact with me. I understood.

I felt bad. I wanted to hug her, just touch her at all, and tell her it'll be alright. But I didn't and I know she'd probably embarrass me if I tried.

That was the last time I saw her for about a week.

***

Reuben Fisher, architect

I tapped his business card against the tabletop as I sat down with my mother for breakfast one morning at Black Elk Lodge.

I ripped it up and stuffed the two pieces in my pocket.

"Here you go," Callie said to my mother, placing a plate in front of her.

"Chris, I-" she tried to say but I waved her off.

With a sigh, she sulked away.

My mother raised an eyebrow at me and then cut into her steak omelette.

"What's that about?" she inquired.

I shook my head, not wanting to talk about it.

"Hm," Mom sounded, "I just don't know how their parents raised two completely different daughters. Speaking of which, how is Morgan? Hasn't stopped by in a while."

My mother cut her brown eyes away from me to drown her side of cinnamon pancakes in syrup.

"Well, what about this Reuben guy, you gonna call him?"

I thought about it, but every time I went to dial his number I told myself I wasn't ready - that he wouldn't want anything to do with me and all my bullshit. Besides, when would I find the time? If I'm not at Red Sage, Malcolm has me playing his assistant.

"You ask a lot of questions, you know that?" I messed with her, stabbing my fork into her turkey sausage link.

She cracked up. "Okay, one more."

I nodded so she could go on and ask already.

"Your father and I are renewing our vowels," Mom squealed.

Since I had a mouthful of pancakes, my face had to express how happy I was for them.

Her cheeks burned red, she looked like he had just proposed for the first time.

I swallowed and congratulated her then said, "Not a question."

"Will you invite Morgan?" she questioned, batting her short, coated eyelashes.

"Not this," I groaned.

I looked around. "And keep your voice down, the whole town doesn't need to know-"

"We already do," The Jonses, Callie, and the regular group of four old fisherman synchronized.

Was I that loud?

Mom laughed proudly. "See."

"Well it's a good thing it wasn't a secret," I rebutted with sarcasm.

Sherry walked over to me and refilled my mother's coffee. She then put her brown hand on my shoulder and whispered, "Baby, your secret is safe with us. We want to see you happy, not that evil ass Malcolm you call an uncle."

"Sher," my mother chimed in. "That's enough, he gets it."

Sherry mumbled more shit about Malcolm and how he's cancerous to the community with his drugs and all.

She then gave me a light nudge with her elbow and winked at me. "We got your back."

***

SLAM!

My mother and I got out of my truck and walked along the sidewalk in the direction of the Whole Foods market.

She grabbed a cart and led me around the store as she hummed in search of avocados first.

"What's wrong, honey, you haven't talked since we left the café?" she asked me, turning a corner.

"I just don't get why everything is about her," I finally let it off my chest.

Mom looked up at me for a second. "Her being Morgan, I assume?"

"Yeah. I mean, you never acted like this with any other girl?"

She gathered four avocados and scratched them off her grocery list.

"There's something different about her, Chris, you should know. I'm big on energy and she just struck me that first day we met. She glows different, don't you think? And anyway, if I didn't think you liked her so much I wouldn't be on your case about it."

I stopped swinging my lanyard and straightened my face. "I'm not saying I'm in love here."

"Neither am I, son. I simply think the relationship that's budding between you two is beautiful, whether she's your uncle's girlfriend, or not," Mom whispered the last part. It wasn't needed.

"And what if I said I don't like her?"

"Then I'd tell you to stop lying."

I pinched her nose until she swatted my hand away.

"Hypothetically, Mary."

She giggled and found the aloe, taking two leaves to put in the cart.

"Then," she answered. "I would tell you to make sure you keep her as a friend. I can see that there's something there, you obviously care about her in a way that you haven't cared about any woman besides myself or Nana, Christopher. And, even if this thing were to be simply platonic, I know that would make you happy. She's a good person, Chris. Why are you so scared of that?"

I didn't answer because I didn't have one.

"I don't know, maybe it's because she balances you out? Notice you haven't been as angry with her around. Sure you have your moments, smart ass, but think about it: she's changed you, right? You even care about little Quinn, and you hated kids."

"I didn't hate kids, I just said I don't want them right now," I corrected.

"Mhm," Mom snarked. "Enough therapy in the middle of the grocery store. Can you find me some Rigatoni, please - your dad's favorite?"

I left her side to go and find the pasta aisle as if I knew my way around the fucking store.

Finally, I find what I'm looking for but there's so many options to choose from. Knowing my mother, she wanted the most expensive option so that's what I went with.

"Please tell me you're not going to try and cook," I heard Morgan say.

Wait. Morgan?

I looked down and saw her scanning the shelves, too.

Her basket was empty until she copied me and put the same brand of pasta in it.

Fuck, why am I speechless right now? Say something.

"I know, it's kind of awkward. I have to go, anyway," she talked, unsure.

I didn't want her to go so I grabbed her wrist and felt that big ass watch she was sporting. That's new.

She noticed me staring and answered my question before I could ask.

"Malcolm got it for me... an apology gift, I guess," Morgan exhaled, hiding it behind her back.

"So you didn't tell him?" I asked about the plan that involved her saying she would leave him.

Her head shook. "You'd know that if you called or texted, or just stopped by."

"I've been-"

"Busy? Sure," she talked, looking anywhere except my face. "I have to go. Hey, good luck this weekend."

"Good luck?" I asked, scratching my head.

"Yeah, with the tournament, and all."

"You're not going to be there?" I asked, having to talk louder to tune out the pounding in my chest.

She twisted her glossy lips, the lips I missed for several days now. "Mm, I don't think so, even when I used to cheer at basketball games I had no idea what was going on."

I laughed, that was cute.

"I wish you could be there," I said. "To cheer me on, I mean. Someone needs to be louder than my mom."

Morgan giggled, making me smile. "Bye, Chris. Good luck."

"Oh, there you are!" Mom exclaimed once Morgan was out of sight. "You do pay attention, your father likes this brand. Okay, scratch that off the list. What's next? Ah, bagels. We need bagels."

***

I took the stairs in my building to get to the fifth floor. More punishment for skipping another gym session this morning.

When I turned the corner that evening, I saw a girl leaving the apartment across from mine.

I minded my business, though, and headed towards 527.

"Chris?!" I heard some woman's voice call.

I wasn't really prepared to have conversation with anyone and the voice wasn't that familiar, but I turned around anyway.

"It's me," the girl said with excitement.

I cringed, not knowing who she was and I couldn't lie about it, my facial expressions already gave it away.

"Madison. From high school? We were prom king and queen?"

"Oh, shit, Madi!" I was glad I finally remembered.

She hugged me and I gave in for just a second before pulling away.

"What's up, how are you?" I rushed, leaning against the door frame.

"I'm good, good! You? You look good as ever. Still playing basketball, hoop star?"

I fixed my face and tongue to not reply smartly to her "hoop star" comment. Cringe.

"Yeah," I said, looking her over. "I have a game this weekend, actually."

Now why did I say that? She's going to want to go, I thought in my head.

"Oh, yeah, I heard about that! It's at Olympia, right, that really big sports complex?"

I blinked. "No? It's at the gym... right down the street."

"No?" She responded, pulling up the flyer on her phone. Except, it wasn't the one I was originally shown, this one was fancier and had been revised. This flyer had multiple sponsors and was flashy, more inviting - seemed like a damn NBA game. And my face was on it smack dab in the middle between Rodney and Jabari, and we all had on different photoshopped uniforms.

Fucking Malcolm, man.

"I'll see you there, maybe cheer you on," she winked, walking away.

I relaxed my face from a minute of my lip being curled, and walked inside.

*

"—And was anyone going to tell me how this went from a charity game to fuckin' Space Jam?" I ranted at Adriel.

He was sitting on my couch, eating all my snacks, stinking feet up on the coffee table. Per usual.

He passed me his blunt and choked. "Malcolm didn't tell you?"

"No, MaLcOlM dIdN't tElL mE," I mocked him.

He wafted the smoke from his face to look at me clearly through low eyes. "He knows people. I thought he'd tell you, man, said he would."

Of course he didn't, classic Malcolm.

"I don't know about this," I let out followed by a strained cough.

AJ let his hair down and kept his eyes glued to the summer league NBA game.

"There's money in it for the winners," AJ let me know.

I turned my neck to slowly look at him and then blinked away, not caring.

Money's cool, whatever, I just didn't want to do it. Shit, I didn't even want to play one game versus Rodney's team at all. Now, you mean to tell me, I have to play a whole tournament at one of the biggest sports arenas in the state, and for cash?

"I don't know, man," I exhaled, passing the blunt back.

"Why you so scared all of a sudden, and you haven't been to the gym, like? What's going on, guy?" AJ asked me, trying to talk through a cough.

If I'm being honest, I did want to play, and I want the cash. It's just that I'm a different person when I play, that's why I stopped. My mom's right, I have some sort of anger issues and Rodney's going to be there, taunting me. I just know that if he thinks he's going to disrespect me this weekend, he'll end up like his cousin, or worse. And really, I don't want that, I just want to play ball.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"It's open!" I shouted, not moving a muscle.

"You should really start locking your doors, Chris," Morgan nagged upon her arrival.

I shot up and coughed, swatting the smoke from the air.

"Oh, so this is why?" Adriel snarled, looking between Morgan and I.

I walked over to her at the door and asked what she was doing here.

"Did you run away, is that why Malcolm hasn't answered the phone? We need to get you back there-"

Morgan looked at me plainly. "He'll be dead for the next twelve hours, at least," she confessed.

"She killed him?! Christ," AJ flailed his arms, getting up to panic in a pacing movement along the hardwood floor.

Morgan made a face at my high friend. "What? No, I didn't kill him. He took his sleeping pills."

"Oh. Well what do you want?" Adriel asked Morgan, coming to stand behind my back.

"Oh my God, I thought this was his place not yours," she snapped back.

Adriel narrowed his dark brown eyes on Morgan in her grey sweatpants and oversized t-shirt. It was the most casual I'd seen her, and I'm not mad at it. Not that she's never not normal, but I liked her like this: no makeup, no flashy gold accessories, or little outfit that would cause everyone to stare including myself.

"Hm. Well, I was here first," Adriel sassed, crossing his arms. "Tell her, bro."

"AJ, get out," I told him, opening the door.

"What?!" He squeaked, standing between her body and mine.

Morgan laughed. "It's fine, really, you can stay. I was just going to talk about my feelings as a woman in this economy."

Adriel's face dropped to an expression of boredom.

"No, he's been here long enough," I insisted, pushing him out.

"Wow. I don't like this," Adriel expressed, sulking through the door. "not one bit."

"I used to like you, too, Morgan. Not anymore," he sucked his teeth, standing outside of my apartment.

"I could just cry," she said with no emotion.

He shook his head at me. "Fine I'll go, but he has to be up early to eat a good breakfast. He doesn't play good when he's distracted, so don't keep him up all night."

"Bye, AJ," Morgan giggled, walking further inside.

I exhaled through my nose, having had enough of him.

"I hope she's on her period," Adriel snuffed, stepping back so she couldn't hear him.

"Ah, shut the fuck up," I chuckled, letting the door close on his face.

SLAM!

"So you do want me dead?" I asked Morgan, the stowaway.

She was swiping her finger along the mahogany bookshelf, checking for dust.

"You know, Chris," she bubbled, "it's called a bookshelf because books go on it."

I looked at her from the other side of the furniture and laughed. "When I built it I didn't plan on reading, but that's a good point, Morgan," I emphasized her name mockingly.

"Mhm," she sounded through closed lips. "I don't smell any pasta. Or you got high and ate it all?"

"Actually, smart ass, I didn't make it yet," I replied, hinting to the groceries I just realized that I never put away from earlier.

Morgan shook her head at me and began looking for where things belonged.

I just watched her, high, with my chin in my hands.

"Thanks, maid," I joked.

"Fuck off," she laughed on the opposite side of the counter.

When she looked up from toying with her fingers, Morgan cleared her throat.

"Uh," she stammered, looking passed my body. "We're definitely not watching basketball all night."

My eyes followed her as she switched to the living room and plopped down in my spot on the couch.

She had some nerve. But I liked it, made me feel good that she could be so comfortable around me.

"Come on!" she beamed, waving me over to the couch.

I laughed, and probably just 'cause I'm high, but the little shit she does is just funny to me.

Neither of us knew what category to watch so we settled for horror because you can't go wrong with that. Except, she said no to literally every movie I wanted to so turned to TikTok recommendations which gave us "Them." It didn't look scary from the video, maybe with the sci-fi shit, so we hit play, just thinking it'll be another eye-opening racial anthology.

Morgan is a complete baby with scary movies and tv but it was a little creepy. I mean, the bitch asked for the black lady's baby, like what the fuck?

I was definitely coming down from this and needed to roll up again.

Morgan sat up and watched me like she was studying my every move.

"Do you want to smoke?" I asked, laughing.

She dropped her knees from her chest and stared at the weed, all bright-eyed like she'd never seen it before.

"Oh. I only smoked a couple times before and last time, I thought I was being abducted by aliens. Seriously," she humored me.

"You probably just needed to relax. You can't think about it."

"Here," I said, offering my joint.

Morgan pushed my hand away and started to laugh. "I— can I?"

"I'm offering it to you," I replied sharply.

She sucked her teeth. "Like, can I?"

"You don't need permission."

She sat up and rolled her eyes. "But like, should I?"

"Just," I exhaled, fed up, and put the joint to her lips.

She started coughing and I just looked at her, blankly, taking my joint back.

"Oh my God, I'm so high," she gasped, staring up at the ceiling. "The aliens... coming."

"Morgan, you do not feel it already," I snarled.

She laughed. "I'm just fucking with you, Christopher."

"What's your name?"

"Morgan?"

I shook my head. "Your full name?" I asked with the rolling of my wrist.

"Morgan Ann Bennett," she answered, confused as to why I asked.

"You always say my name like that, like you're Mary. I'm going to say your full name."

"Please don't," she laughed.

"Well stop using my government!" I complained back.

Morgan nodded. She remained still and said, "Okay... I'm sorry, Christopher."

In the next two seconds, Morgan ran off the couch and booked it towards my bedroom, laughing hysterically as I chased after her.

It's going to be a long night. . .

*

I couldn't believe the sun was up and we hadn't been to sleep, yet. We had spent hours just talking about any and everything.

I've got to say, Morgan's a great conversationalist. Pair that with being high, and we... we had fun.
I mean, who else asks questions like "what old people tendencies do you have" or "if months were people, which one would be the rudest?"
My answers to both: I can't stand super loud music and February. No, I will not elaborate.
Morgan said she was ashamed by how she could literally fall asleep anywhere, at any time, doing anything. She had me dying laughing, talking about how when Callie was in labor for twelve hours, she pushed two lobby chairs together and fell asleep in the waiting room. As for the months, she picked April, said it seems depressed.

"—Oh my God, it's six AM," Morgan noticed.

She picked up the digital alarm clock and kept staring at it as if it would say "just kidding" and turn back.

"You need to go to sleep," she panicked. "Your first game is at eleven!"

"They'll be fine," I let out as I continued playing the bongos AKA Morgan's ass.

She was stretched out across my lap in this magenta Plumeria bouquet wired bra and matching thong.

"Stop," she said, pushing my hand away. "You need to get up. Hey, what's this?"

I watched her pick up both halves of Reuben Fisher's business card that I ripped up.

"Chris! You didn't call him, yet?"

I shrugged. "He's out of town."

"And? Call him!"

"Nope," I ripped, slapping her ass in a beat again.

She sat up and hissed in my face. "Stop that. Give me your phone."

"A bit too early for that, don't you think?" I teased, finishing my orange juice.

Morgan blinked slow and put her hand out. "Give me the damn phone!"

We waited for a second and then busted out laughing.

Aw, she tried to use bass. That was cute.

"I tried," she pouted. "Fine, if you won't call him, I will."

"Morgan-" I gritted as she rolled out of bed.

She tore her phone off the charger in the wall and dialed the man's personal cell.

"Whatever," I spat. "He won't answer, anyway."

Morgan cut her eyes from me and paced towards my private study.

"Reuben?!" Her voice shot in an octave when he did, in fact, take the call.

"Is this-"

"Morgan, from the café, yes. How are you?"

I watched her give me the finger and stick her tongue out.

Well call me a monkey's uncle, I thought. No, but what's he doing answering her call? I'm suspicious. . . what exactly did she really do to get this millionaire's phone number?

She laughed, it was fake but enough to butter him up, I guess.

"So, anyway, I called because remember the guy I was telling you about? Exactly, Chris. I know you said you're not really hiring right now, but— I see. Go on. Downtown, sure... Mhm. Monday? Oh, wow! Okay, great, I'll let him know to call you! Thank you, bye bye," she talked.

Finally, she hung up and came back to join me on my bed.

"You, mister, have a job interview. Monday morning at eight. He said he's just looking for some fresh new ideas right now and if you can bring some urban designs to him for the construction of downtown, and prove to him that you're as good as I say, then you're looking at being a level two designer. Err, something like that," Morgan let me know.

I was so happy I just kissed her.

Morgan pulled away, cheeks bright red.

"Okay," she drawled out, rolling off of my body. "Get some sleep before AJ blames your bad game on me."

My face fell as she got dressed back in her sweatpants, Crocs, and large tee that I think is actually mine from a week ago.

"How am I supposed to sleep now?" I groaned, adjusting myself through my briefs.

Morgan pulled her hair from the back of the shirt and smiled at me, putting it in a ponytail.

"Here," she whispered, tossing a bottle of lotion next to me in bed.

I cracked up. "Oh, you got jokes."

"See, it wasn't just the weed!" She laughed, throwing her tote bag over a shoulder.

I shook my head, watching her walk towards the bedroom door to leave.

"Go team! Get that touch down, break a leg, yeah!" Morgan joked, making me laugh as she made her exit.