Philip lay in the bed watching American Gangsta and sipping on a glass of Courvoisier. “That Frank Lucas is a bad man,” he said shaking his head, and taking another sip. He began to smile as snapshots of Nick’s wedding played in his mind like a slideshow. It was so beautiful. I really am proud of him and Keda. She looked so beautiful in her wedding gown. Yep, I’d do it over again, if I could. Especially, with the right woman. Especially, with Syd.” he thought, which reminded him that it had been almost a month since he had spoken to, or even heard from her.
He took a few more sips of his drink, picked up his cell phone and then pressed the button to begin a text message. He put in her number.
Philip sat, waiting for a response. He kept pressing the button on his phone, hoping to see an envelope indicating that he had a message, but there wasn’t one. “That’s some bullshit!” He yelled. “I can’t believe she’s not texting me back.” Damn, they finally put his ass in prison, he thought, looking up at the television.
An hour had passed. American Gangsta had gone off, and still no reply from Syd. He looked down into the glass, “shit!” Then over to the bottle. Same thing. “I know I didn’t drink all of that by myself,” he laughed. Philip went to the restroom, turned off the television and placed his telephone on his bedside table. Thirty minutes later he was sound asleep.
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