King of Her Desire

22

Remy lived in this massive house that her parents had owned for, like...decades. Up in the Hollywood hills, overlooking what used to be the center of their universe out there.

It had this unbelievable view which made me kind of queasy because it was right on the edge of a cliff, sort of. I kept waiting for the terrace we were sitting on to just drop out from under me—you know about all the mudslides and things they have out there now, right?

In fact, the whole house made me queasy. It was like a maze. I loved all the glass walls and whatnot but it was hard to navigate in there. All these levels and wide-open space—felt like a big old shopping mall or something, I swear.

But it was a nice balmy, sunny day and she put on all this music and brought out this fancy, hand painted Chinese stash box full of weed and whatnot, all neatly organized in little drawers and boxes. Next to every kind of pipe and paraphernalia you could possibly need, too.

Royce ate a shroom or something.

And Remy said, "That's not microdosing, dude. That was a lot."

And he winked at me and said, "Better than a shrink. Want some?"

"Better than antidepressants," Patrice said. "I hate that shit."

"Oh my God, they had me on some kind of stuff once—something 'way too heavy for a kid," Remy said. "And all I remember is not being in my body, most of the time. I don't know how I did any work."

"That's the only way I could do any work," Patrice said.

And Royce went, "Word. It was brutal, man, back when I first started. I was like you, young blood. Fresh off the streets. Literally."

He meant me. So I said, "They saw you skating, too, right? I mean on a board, though."

"Yeah, they were out at the park, scouting around. She liked that I was Blackish. Emphasis on the 'ish.'"

We all laughed at that. And I could see it, too, how they would've thought the "ish" part made him less threatening or something.

"Guy liked my tits," Remy said. "That's not what he said, but..."

"...after he came all over them, you knew you got the job, right?" Patrice teased.

And Remy slapped her on the thigh and said, "That's how you do it, maybe."

"Oh, I know Miles."

"Everybody knows Miles," Royce said.

"Oh, he liked your tits, too?" Patrice said, giving Royce a shove.

And Royce sort of turned his butt toward her and said, "Ass, honey."

And after she slapped his ass there was this long, interesting silence.

Until Patrice smirked and said, "Yeah, that #metoo thing didn't last long, did it?"

"It's never going to change," Remy said. "As long as there are people willing to do anything."

That was followed by another silence. And then she raised her wine glass and said, "Debbie Downer, here!"

"No shit! What's wrong with you girl?" Royce asked. "You better eat a piece. Take a little trip."

"Am I invited?" some guy asked from somewhere back behind us.

And when I turned around he said, "Whoa. You must be the new guy."