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Levin stared at him.

Henry’s smile got bigger.

“Please?”

“You got your own fucking car.”

“Mine ain’t the Benz.”

I laughed.

Levin shook his head.

“Go ahead, Henry. And don’t tell your moms I let you drive my fucking Benz. She already don’t want me buying you some next shit for college.”

Henry snatched the keys off the table before Levin could change his mind.

“I won’t, Pops.”

“You better not scratch my shit either.”

“I know how to drive.”

“You eighteen. You don’t know how to do shit.”

Henry laughed.

“Aight. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Later, Unc.”

“Be easy.”

The front door closed behind him.

I grabbed a bottle of water and went into the living room.

Levin was wrapping up his call.

“Aight.”

Pause.

“Yeah.”

Another little smile.

“I’ll see you later.”

He hung up.

I dropped onto the other couch.

“What bitch you fucking with now?”

Levin looked at me.