Death Before Facebook

be called.”
    “He’s pretty open about his preferences, wouldn’t you say?”
    “Oh, come on, Dee-Dee, tell me you didn’t know.”
    “Well, I was hoping.”
    “What? You liked him? You never like anyone.”
    “Pish-tush. I would trek to the North Pole to get Darryl Boucree a sliver of ice for his Coke.”
    “I mean… this seems different.”
    “Young Mr. Bilderback has taken my fancy.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding. I don’t believe this.”
    “You think he’s single?”
    “Dee-Dee, he’s a murder suspect. Remember Sheila and Kenny.”
    “We’re not getting married, for God’s sake. Not for months yet.”
    She honestly couldn’t tell if he was just carrying on (as was his wont) or if he was genuinely interested.
    As was
her
wont, she entered her apartment throwing off clothes. As soon as she had stripped down to panties and bra, her doorbell sounded.
    “Who is it?” she hollered.
    “Darryl Boucree.”
    She pulled on a robe and stepped out on her balcony. “Darryl! What are you doing here?”
    “Got a present for Sheila.”
    “Well, aren’t you nice. Hang on a second.”
    She wriggled into a pair of jeans and looked around for her red sweater. It wasn’t anywhere.
    She picked up another, but it was drab brown. No good. She hunted some more, down under the bed, in the closet, before it occurred to her what she was doing.
    What do you care about Darryl Boucree?
she asked herself.
    She slipped on the brown sweater, but took time to fluff up her hair.
    I guess I care.
    When she had walked downstairs, and actually stood in his presence, the breadth of his chest, the way it moved inside his sweater, the pull of him, almost a smell, she thought, made her oddly happy.
    Watch out! Testosterone is the world’s most dangerous drug. Get one molecule on you and you’re helpless
.
    It was too late. She was covered with it.
    Drenched.
    She didn’t need this; didn’t want it, didn’t welcome it. So why did she feel so happy?
    The rapture of the deep, I guess.
    When she spoke, her voice sounded thin. “Hi.” He held her gaze as long as she was willing to let him. She broke away first.
    “How you doin’?”
    “Remember Cindy Lou? My friend from last night? She talks about being evil. That’s how I’m doing.”
    “Need your eight hours, huh?”
    “How about you?”
    He shrugged. “Half a teacher’s better than none. In fact the kids think it’s better than one.”
    She laughed. “Let’s go over to the Big House.”
    “Okay.”
    “Sheila. Sheila! Look who I’ve got.”
    Sheila poked her head out “Darryl.” She came flying down the hall and flung her arms around him, something she never did with Skip or Jimmy Dee. “How you doin’, dude?”
    “Gimme five.”
    For an eternity or so, they slapped each other’s palms in the complex hand jive that kids and black males are so crazy about.
    “Who’s out there?” Jimmy Dee emerged, now in jeans, polo shirt, and determined-dad look. His face split in a grin when he saw who’d arrived. “Auntie Skip and Uncle Darryl. You’re staying for dinner, of course.”
    Darryl grinned back. “Best offer I’ve had today.”
    Sheila said, “You haven’t had his cooking yet.”
    Skip and Jimmy Dee caught each other’s eyes. Sheila had actually cracked a joke. Skip looked back at her to make sure she was kidding.
    No question: there was a mischievous glint in her eye.
    “Suppose you cook tonight, young lady,” said Jimmy Dee. “How’s your
coq au vin
?”
    “Cocoa what?”
    Skip looked at her watch. “I have to be out of here in forty-five minutes. Tell me you’re not making
coq au vin
.”
    “Okay. I’m not. Geneese made some gumbo. All we have to do is heat it up.”
    Skip said, “I’ll start the rice.”
    Kenny had come in, and was standing shyly against a wall. “Hey, sport,” said Darryl. “What’s your name?”
    “Kenny.” He smiled his sweet little smile, the one that made all adults love him and Sheila want to kill him.
    “I’m Darryl. Gimme five.”
    They played pat-a-cake for nearly as long as it took to cook the rice and by the time they were finished, Darryl had another disciple.
    Skip busied herself peeling cucumbers and washing lettuce while Jimmy Dee set the table.
It’s like a family,
she thought.
We’re finally having fun
.
    Dee-Dee was beside himself, but also nervous as a bride. He knew, as Skip did, that Darryl was the glue holding it together, and who knew who Darryl was? He was still a stranger