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“I’m not telling him shit, Ty.”

“For how long?”

“Till I feel like it.”

“And you just gonna keep being around this nigga?”

“Yup.”

“Couldn’t be me.”

“That’s why you ain’t me.”

“Fuck you.”

I laughed.

“Speaking of fucking, there’s this party tonight.”

That changed his whole tone.

“What party?”

“Some swinger shit at Playroom. Tiana hosting.”

“Tiana with the ass?”

“How many Tianas you know without one?”

“Ahhh, shit!” Tyler yelled. “We outside!”

I pulled the phone away from my ear.

“Nigga, relax.”

“Fuck you mean relax? You been home six months acting like somebody grandfather. We about to be lit.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“What time?”

“I’ll text you.”

“Don’t flake either.”

I ended the call.

“Fucking clown.”

I plated Henry’s food, then mine.

Eggs.

Bacon.

French toast.

Fruit on the side because Cheryl would somehow spiritually know if I fed this nigga bullshit all weekend.