This is wild, man!” Quincy scanned the rowdy restaurant. “Thanks, Q. And thanks for participating this year. I think we’ve had a nice turnout.” “Yeah, you’ve proven to me that I need to hit the court more often.” Quincy rubbed his chest at our booth while tightening his face. “You sure you okay, man? You sure put on a show out there, trying to show Jackson his old man still got it.” “I’m good. She needs to hurry on up with my brewski. That’ll sure relax me.” Just then the brunette waitress appeared with tall mugs of ice cold beer. “Here you are, Mr. Rogers and friend,” her bright smile beamed and her hazel irises twinkled. As she ogled me, I took the opportunity to cruise her long legs in short black shorts. Not too thin, but not thick enough if I were interested. “Awwww… C’mon, baby.
