Free My Number One: Kasha & Knox by Janice Ross

to have this discussion.
    Rory’s brows smoothed out, moving from crinkles to a more normal pattern. He nodded.
    A couple blocks up, we found a small diner and ordered cheesesteaks, fries and natural juices. Rory was adamant about having the seat facing the door. “Never know when I’ll run into someone I know.”
    “I don’t know how you know half the people you do.” Which was an accurate observation on my part.
    Rory balled up a few napkins, aimed and failed to connect with his target. The napkins landed just short of my nose. “Other than the money you put toward the houses, what have you done with your portion?” This was the second time he’d mentioned the money today. I blew it off the last time, but he seemed a bit too complacent now.
    I leaned in and uttered in a low tone, “Now. We’re discussing that now . . . here . . . in public?”
    “Why not? Bash hangs around most of the time, or one of the other guys are within earshot.” After only taking a single bite, Rory held up his hand while finishing off his mouthful. He then took a swish of juice and started back up, “We found that money more than five years ago—”
    “Found? That’s what we’re calling it now?”
    “Found. Stole. Wait, would you prefer borrowed?” Rory’s hand shot up in the air. This was typical for him. He had this persona of invincibility. Fine for him, but I knew better.
    “I’m done with this topic.”
    “Whatever, man! There’s like three people in here.”
    “And I know you know better.”
    Rory nodded before picking up the bread and thrusting it into his mouth. He chomped on the sandwich. I had to look away to keep from throwing up. This whole doom and gloom feeling came over me. Not a day went by where I didn’t think about the money. But I’d brush the thought out every time. I had multiplied my portion. There was a good enough sum building in stocks and all too. We hadn’t made the money dirty, we only took what wasn’t meant to be ours.
    “Chill out, Knox.” Rory shoved chips between his lips. “This is my first meal for the day.” He moaned. “You’re not gonna eat your sandwich?”
    “Dude, why do women go crazy over your disgusting ass?” I asked.
    “Don’t hate on me, bro. I haven’t eaten much, worrying about your punk behind in jail.”
    We snorted out, drawing attention from a young couple that just walked into the diner, followed by three men in business suits. The men only stared for about two seconds, but the women . . . several females gawked at us. Rory kicked my shin before using his chin to shift focus to our audience.
    “Excuse me, Knox . . .” a sultry, familiar voice called out from the next booth over.
    I slid around in my seat to see an overeager reminder of my night. I didn’t immediately remember her name, yet the visual of her being sprawled out on my car was enough.
    “It’s me . . . Erika . . .” she reintroduced herself as she stepped around the partition to stand at the edge of my seat. I’d seen so much of her that the casual business suit threw me off. Erika’s thick, chestnut waves were pulled into a tight bun. Even her makeup was tame, truly showcasing a natural beauty.
    “You clean up nicely,” I teased. I’m not entirely sure how I should have felt toward her right then. Because of her, I’d gotten locked up. “Is your man here?”
    “Aww man, c’mon. Tony is my past.” Erika’s pupils grew, her lower lip stuck out and her head tilted. Even a simple gray, summer blend skirt suit couldn’t break her out of seductress mode. “Can I join you?” she added, only then seeing Rory. “Oh hey.”
    “Are you stalking my boy here?” Rory asked, licking his fingertips individually.
    “Anyways, can I join you?” Erika bypassed. Rather than wait for an invitation, she slid into the blood-red seat next to me.
    “I remember you,” Rory continued. He wasn’t the type to let someone’s discomfort get in the way of him being an asshole.
    “Um, yeah, from