Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal. Your IP address will be recorded. Recommend this entry Has been recommended Send news. Log in No account? Create an account. Remember me. Facebook VKontakte Google. Previous Share Flag Next. I wanted to cover as much ground as I could before I started writing situations from the current season. Lala also makes an appearance by phone. I never would have finished this otherwise.
I mean, damn. I started writing this in June? He could get his counters done in gold if he wanted. When Eddie loses his grip on the lime and it rolls into the sink, Melo gets up. Melo has never in his life been cut like that. Make you last longer, or something? That same fucking thrill. Not like this. Reaching around Eddie for the Cuervo, Melo figures that this calls for a drink. What the hell, right? A toast. A toast to his money and his courage and, okay, a drink to him.
Or, part of it. He ignores Tyler. Times like this Melo goes two ways: he either turns into a ten year old kid and clings to, well, Eddie, usually, until everything is better, or he unleashes his ego, turning into Melo-in-charge. And signing with the Mavs , and how the Nuggets and their brand new GM here didn't care enough to try keep him, Ty. Now what the hell kind of management is that? Find your brother and get the fuck out of my house. Not while he had, has? Not to live with him again.
Well, not to live in his house while he was all over the fucking place. Also, a sleepy--almost unconscious--Eddie is a guy that Melo can move and touch and lick all over without any kind of limits. That comment about Tyler? The one Eddie just made? That was out of line, straight up bullshit. No lie. To him. They were home in a strange world. Tyler and Troy are his family and his fucking business and they and Eddie have absolutely nothing to do with each other.
Deep breath; calmer now. Like, maybe they owed you something? I dunno. No teeth. Nothing hard. He flips his phone shut and tosses it. Hard and sharp. All that. Or just drank too much and forgot how to talk. Then he sighs and brushes his hair out of his face with the back of his arm. It hurts, a little bit. No response. Shut up. Grow up. Start to make sense.
