CHAPTER 15

“This box is heavy! I’m about to throw my back out carrying all this stuff for you,” Maxwell complained, picking up a large cardboard box.

“Shut up, dude, that’s the last one,” Tony remarked, holding open the front door to his brand new home.

“Put it over there,” Andre said, sitting in a chair in the foyer, drinking a Corona.

“Man, what are you doing?” Maxwell asked.

“Supervising,” Andre said.

“Whatever. Say, Tony, what you got in here? Feels like some concrete blocks,” Maxwell said, bending his knees to protect his back as he set the box down on the floor.

“Nothing much. Just all my Star Trek stuff.”

“Star Trek?” Andre and Maxwell asked in unison.

“Why are you guys acting so surprised? You guys know I’m a Trekkie.”

“Since when?” Andre asked.

“Since college.”

“So all those conventions you go to—they’re not cooking conventions?”

Maxwell and Andre looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Forget you guys,” Tony said, walking to the spacious, open living room and sitting on an old, beat-up leather chair.

“May the force be with you,” Andre said.

“That’s from Star Wars, idiot, not Star Trek,” Tony said defensively.

“Star Trek, Star Wars, same thang,” Andre said, sitting across from Tony on a plastic lawn chair.

“When are you getting your furniture?” Maxwell asked, taking a seat on a metal folding chair.

“Next week. New house, new furniture.”

Maxwell could see the pride radiating from Tony’s face. And he should be proud. He had saved for two years to get his house built. Building a new home seemed like the thing to do lately in Houston. With all the sprawling land available, it didn’t make sense to build up— like New York or Chicago—it was better to build out. And out Tony did. All the way to Sugarland, a small suburb on the outskirts of Houston.

“This house is way too big for you,” Maxwell remarked, as he looked around the Spanish-style interior.

“Right now, maybe. But I plan to fill this bad boy with a wife and a bunch of kids.”

“What? A wife? Kids? Be careful what you ask for,” Andre said.

“I know what I’m asking for. I want a family. I didn’t build this house for nothing.”

“Maxwell, you hear this man?”

“Yeah…So?”

“So? He wants a family!”

“And? There’s nothing wrong with that. I want a family myself. Speaking of family, I’m surprised you’re over here helping Tony out. Isn’t today your anniversary?”

“Yeah.”

“It is?” Tony said. “Why didn’t you tell me that when I called you? You didn’t have to—”

“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to help you. Besides, Brenda will be okay. It ain’t the first anniversary I’ll miss, and it definitely won’t be the last.”

“How many years did you guys make?” Tony asked.

“Fourteen,” Andre said flippantly, taking another swig of beer.

“Wow, fourteen years. Congrats, man. That’s an accomplishment,” Maxwell said, giving Andre a friendly pat on the back.

“How is getting married at eighteen an accomplishment?” Andre asked.

“It’s not the getting married, it’s the staying married. A lot of people don’t make it that long, you should be proud,” Maxwell said.

Andre nodded and left the room.

“What’s eating him?” Tony asked.

“Who knows,” Maxwell said.

“Hey, how’s work going?” Tony asked, changing the subject.

“Good, good. We just hired a new assistant manager.”

“Is it a woman?” Andre asked, handing Maxwell a Corona.

“Why does that matter?” Maxwell asked, twisting off his beer cap and taking a swig.

“It doesn’t. I’m just curious,” Andre said, sitting back down.

“Yes, it’s a woman.”

“Is she cute?”

“No!” Maxwell said too quickly. “Well, maybe. She’s got an okay face.”

“You said that a little too fast. What is she, fat or something?” Tony asked.

Maxwell burst out laughing.

“Far from it, man. She is so skinny she could hoola hoop through a Cheerio.”

“That’s original,” Andre said dryly.

“Whatever. But you get my point. She’s skinny.”

“And ugly,” Andre added.

“She’s not ugly. She’s just…”

“Average?” Tony offered.

“Yeah, she’s average.”

“So on a scale of one to ten she’d be what?”

“A three. No, I’ll give her a five for her face and a three for her body.”

“That’s pretty low. She must be a dogface,” Tony said, laughing.

“Hey, my wife is a dogface! No harm in finding you an ugly woman,” Andre said. “Go marry her and then we both can be dodging anniversaries.”

“In your dreams, Andre.”

“Well, you need to stop dreaming and get you an ugly woman—”

“Stop calling your wife ugly!” Tony interjected. “Brenda has a kind personality, a warm heart, and, and, and…”

Andre and Maxwell exchanged glances and burst out laughing.

“Since we talking about your job, how are you doing with Theresa back working with you?” Andre asked.

“Is she hitting on you?” Tony asked.

“Actually, she’s been keeping things pretty professional. I mean, she hints that she wants us to get back together—”

“Don’t do it, man!” Andre said.

“Why not get back with her? Everyone deserves a second chance.” Tony said. “Besides, Theresa is a beautiful woman…”

“Did you forget what that girl did to me? She’s the biggest liar in history!” Maxwell said, draining his beer and setting the empty bottle on the terra cotta tiled floor.

“Exactly my point, pretty women can’t be trusted. Stay away from her. Far away from her,” Andre said.

“That’s gonna be pretty hard to do considering we work together now.”

“What were you thinkin’ by saying it was okay for her to work there, anyway?” Andre asked. “That was stupid. You knew how hard it was for you to get over her. When Dee Dee asked you to re-hire her you should’ve told her no.”

“I know. It’s been years. I thought—I mean, I’m over her, so it’s okay.”

“Sounds like you trying to convince yourself,” Andre said.

“I’m not. I’m over her. We’re through.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow.

“I’m serious, man. It’s over.”

“Whatever you say, Maxwell,” Andre said, “whatever you say.”