Two Punks In Love

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Marley

"You bout to get fired, girl, if you roll up on Riley in full Jasmine like this...why don't you come back to bed and let me work out some of your sass..." Bodie says. He's naked in our bed, covered by nothing but a sheet, watching me with lecherous eyes as I pull on a black stretchy maternity dress and follow up by stab giant hoops into my ears. My braids swing down as I bend to give him a kiss and a pec slap.

"This is no time for sex."

"Anytime  you  aren't wearing panties is a time for sex," he drawls.

Damn this pregnancy brain. I was literally about to forget to wear underwear. I bustle to slip some on, then I come back to kiss Bodie good-bye again.

"Your manager has lost his damn mind. I can't believe you didn't tell me he just let Trace and Kat...disappear like that!"

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger. I just found out from Leed this morning, myself..." Bodie gathers my braids in both his hands. "Go easy on Riley. He's hurting like hell." He gives me several more parting pecks, twirling my braids. "Goddamn, you look so young and sweet with these..."

Yeah, I've braided my hair again because I thought it would be more low maintenance here at the end of my pregnancy and into new motherhood. Plus, Bodie likes it. He keeps saying I look just like I did at seventeen. Which is actually...not really that far off the mark. I look like I did at eighteen, for sure. Braided and roundly pregnant. At least I'm not wearing an orange jumper anymore. But I'm about to jump all in Riley's shit, so...Bodie might not be wrong. I doubt I'll get arrested, but I might get fired.

The good thing about our house is that it's very conveniently located to the Colossal building where our offices are located. . Malik is one of our security/drivers now, because Bodie has transitioned some of the more responsible, cool-headed Sixers into our LA entourage, and he drops me off at the front door.

"Where is he?" I ask Lisa the intern when I see that Riley's office is vacant.

She bites her lip and shrugs. She knows exactly where he is, but she's been instructed not to tell me because Riley hung up on me an hour ago after what could be termed a heated discussion.

"Lisa," I sigh, "I know you're new, but you should have figured out by now, that although Riley and I sometimes disagree, we always work it out. And by the way, I'm the last person Riley has actually hired to work in this office. Six years ago. Since then, I've made all the personnel decisions. Including hiring you."

"He's at the Black Asp," she says promptly.

I blink. "Really? At ten in the morning? Who could be playing at ten in the morning?"

"He's not...scouting talent," she says with meaning.

I try not tighten my lips as I nod. I probably fail.

"C'mon, I need a wing man," I tell Malik who was kicked back in my office already, with Airpods in.

The Blask Asp is real dive bar, the kind that are few and far between anymore in LA. But they have live music nearly every night and open mic night once a week, so Riley often goes there, hoping to discover the next big Soundcrush. It's where he found his little punk outfit, Daze Gone.

Lisa's right. He's not scouting talent. He's looking for ways to self-destruct. When Malik and I walk in and our eyes adjust to the light, I see Riley sitting at the bar, littered with glasses, talking with a well-heeled blonde woman. Too well-healed for this place. She's wearing leather leggings, and cashmere tank top and Louboutins. I stop to assess the situation. He appears to be in either deep conversation or some kind of...negotiations.