"I'm not saying they are going to take the series, but I think they'll force a game seven," I said.
Byron and I were sipping beers as we watched ESPN in closed caption on the bar television.
Byron shook his head and smiled before he took a swig. "The Bulls are gonna put them away, my man. You can bank on that."
Byron probably knew better than me. He was a tall black man with sharp angular facial features that looked as if they were hewn out of a piece of granite. He was lean and muscular; actually getting out on the court on a regular basis instead of my occasional game of hoops. He kept a neatly trimmed goatee and a smooth shaved head.
"You just don't like the Bucks."
"I think the Bucks had a good season. They made a good move bringing Jason Kidd in, but now it's over. Better luck next year," Byron chuckled.
"Well... we'll see Thursday."
"You sound you want to lose some money."
"I'll bet twenty bucks."
"Twenty? I got two bills that say it's game over for Milwaukee."
I shook my head, "I don't have two hundred dollars laying around to bet with, By."
"I thought you were so sure Milwaukee would win?"
"People get hurt; they beat their wives or their children. I'm not two hundred dollars sure that nothing is going to happen between now and Thursday or even during the game."
"Alright, alright. If the Bucks win, I give you two hundred dollars. If the Bulls win, you sign off on that lovely lady of yours giving me some dome."
I almost spit beer out in laughter, "Yeah, I'm sure Stephanie will be just fine with that. Right."
"Oh, yeah. Some conversation, a couple beers- not drunk. I'm not saying drug her, but a bit more open minded. With the right social massaging and you're blessing I think she'd do it."
I shook my head, "You don't know Stephanie like I do."
"Well, then you got nothing to worry about."
"If-when, she storms off and never talks to you again or lets you in our house, it isn't my fault."
Byron stuck his hand out. "Bet."
I took it and we shook, "Bet."
A few days later the Bulls beat the Bucks 120-66, their worst loss in franchise history. Byron called shortly after wondering if we could all hang out that Friday night.
Stephanie was a beautiful woman. A tight, athletic body with a thin waist and a tight, heart shaped ass, she went to the gym a few times a week and ran daily. Her b-cup breasts left a little to be desired, but I loved her smoky gray eyes and elfin face. She had bronze hair that she often wore braided or wore up behind her head, and occasionally wore down in cascading curls that ran just past her shoulders.
She didn't dress to draw the eye, but she still did. Her family was the country type. Her father and brothers were overachiever macho types. She followed them in their love of the outdoors, so she didn't wear much make up or dress too girly. Still, she looked great in a pair of jeans and her health and vibrance didn't need much make-up. I wished she'd grow her nails, but hunting and fishing didn't allow for those frivolities to get in the way.
Her professional and social life wasn't much that of a girly girl either. She was a woman who relied on her brains and her accomplishments, not on her smile and attention grabbing. She made more than I did with her degree in biochemistry. I always knew her to be responsible and conscientious. She was good with her money and wasn't impulsive, never lazy.
All the same, despite her good looks, her intelligence, her marvelous body, she didn't seem to have much confidence in bed. She was never the initiator. Never the creative lover. Sex with Stephanie could almost be boring at times. It was always up to me to put some spice into the bedroom. I figured it was just a weak libido. Byron didn't know what he was getting himself into.
The night Byron came over, Stephanie was in her usual attire: a pair of jeans (banging, they all were), and a t-shirt (gray). She had her hair up, pinned to the back of her head with some female hair gadget. She was minimalist on makeup, and wore a pair of hoop golden earrings. Byron arrived in dark blue jeans and a tight white t-shirt that showed off his lean and taut upper body.
Stephanie and Byron had always gotten along well together. They were both athletic and would often spar about run times. They once had a plank contest that Stephanie handily won. We settled down together with some light snacks and conversation.
We had been drinking for a few hours, gradually growing tipsier. Byron was pressing beers on both of us, teasing when we weren't keeping up and pressing us to finish our beers, but I suspected he wasn't getting a fresh one for himself a few times when he went to the refrigerator. I certainly was feeling a little tipsy, and I could tell Stephanie was laughing harder at jokes and almost slurring her words a little. Gradually the conversation went from music to Kanye West to Kanye and Kim Kardashian's baby.
"I'm just glad you never hear much about the interracial aspect of celebrity marriages these days," Byron said. "It's nice that people just accept other people as people."
"I think it's been pretty impolite for people to make comments like that for a long time," Stephanie said.
I could feel my heart speed up a little.
"Hell, Heidi Klum and Seal didn't get married fifty years ago, but I remember folks saying some pretty out of pocket shit about them. I think a lot of people still think it, they just don't have the guts to say it anymore. We've at least gotten far enough to shut them up. A lot of people say they aren't racist, but when it comes to it they'll totally treat people like they're some kind of animal."
"Yeah," Stephanie nodded. "You're probably right about that."
"You ever dated a black man, Stephanie."
Did my heart stop or speed up.
She hesitated, "No, but..."
"Stephanie you're gorgeous. I know you've had a lot of guys hit on you, and brothers aren't shy like white guys be being."
"Well, yeah," she blushed.
"So why didn't you ever give them a chance?"
Stephanie took a deep breath. "I'm sure the color of their skin didn't have anything to do with it," she stuttered a bit.
"Phhbt," Byron did almost before she could finish. "Am I right, bro?" He looked at me.
Things were moving fast in my head now even without the alcohol. "Phhbt," was all I could manage.
Stephanie turned and glared at me. "I'm not racist." Her embarrassment had turned to anger. Byron was on dangerous ground now. He would never pull it off.
