Free Twisted Tales by Brandon Massey Page B

ignored his comment—there was a long story behind it—and looked out the window.
    “Oh,” I said.
    Raheim laughed.
    It was early evening, the sun dipping into the horizon. We were cruising on a winding rural road outside Atlanta, on our way to see Raheim’s girlfriend and her friend, with whom she was hooking me up. I had never met this “hookup” date and had no idea what she looked like, but Raheim claimed that she was cute. Not as cute as his girlfriend, Shonda, of course, but in Raheim’s words, “better than you could do on your own, Scottie, so you better thank me.”
    The woman on the side of the road made even Raheim’s girlfriend look homely by comparison.
    Raheim slowed the truck as we drew closer, giving me a clear look at her. The woman stood near the open trunk of a black Honda Civic; I noticed that the hood yawned open, too. She looked to be in her mid-twenties. Her skin was the color of coffee, and her hair flowed to her slender shoulders in lush waves. She wore tight black jeans and a red halter top that ended at her midriff.
    As I looked at her, my mouth grew dry. Embarrassed by my own reaction, I had to glance away.
    The woman turned and watched us as we rolled closer. She waved, and gave us a smile that gave me heart palpitations.
    Raheim quickly pulled over in front of the Honda.
    “You’re stopping?” I asked. “We’re running late for our dates.”
    “Shonda can wait. Ain’t no way in hell I’m passing this up.”
    I couldn’t say that I blamed him. But I hated to be late for anything, and especially for a date with a new woman. I guess it was the gentleman in me.
    “Maybe you should call Shonda and tell her we’re running late—”
    “No.” Raheim flipped down the sun visor and examined his dark brown face in the mirror. He smoothed his well-trimmed goatee. “After I see what’s poppin with this thing here, I might not wanna see Shonda tonight. You dig?”
    “But what about her friend?” I asked. I really wanted to ask, What about me?
    “She was fat, anyway.” Raheim shrugged. “You ain’t missing nothing.”
    “But you’d said she was cute.”
    “Her face is.” Chuckling, Raheim slugged me in the arm—a playful but painful gesture—and opened the door. “Watch your big brother at work, Scottie. Watch and learn. And keep your mouth shut.”
    He hadn’t needed to say that. I was tongue-tied around most women, anyway.
    Raheim got out of the Tahoe. So did I. Darkness gathered around us like an old friend. Forestland lined both sides of the road, and deep in the woods, the night creatures had begun to conduct their concerts.
    I shuffled closer to the Honda. Raheim strutted into view on the other side of the car, broad shoulders thrown back proudly, acting every bit of the famed University of Georgia linebacker that he’d been in his younger days. He met the woman near the rear of her car and started talking in a smooth, playa patter that I envied but never could replicate.The woman listened, her lovely eyes sparkling. She shook my brother’s hand. Then she glanced in my direction, gave me a smile.
    Blushing, I looked away.
    I looked under the Honda’s hood. I didn’t know a thing about automobiles, but at that moment, I wished I had majored in automotive engineering, instead of biology. I could have fixed the woman’s car and won her everlasting gratitude, and possibly a date—
    Something shifted in the front passenger seat.
    The windows were tinted, concealing the Honda’s interior. But I had seen ... something.
    I leaned closer to the glass.
    A small, pale hand brushed across the window.
    I let out a startled sound and stumbled backward. My feet got tangled together, and I lost my balance and hit the gravel on my butt. Shame burned my face. I’d always been a klutz.
    Raheim laughed. “What the hell you doing over there, man?”
    Her face concerned, the woman came over to me.
    “My son’s in the car,” she said in a soft voice. “I’m sorry, he