No missed calls. It was 8:51 p.m., nine minutes before meet-up time. I could hear Jazz talking on the phone in her bedroom, probably to one of her homegirls. I wondered for a second if it could’ve been Joe Malloy. But I’m sure it wasn’t, just because Jazz never went a night without gossiping and giggling with one of her friends. I could tell by her voice that she was already lying down, and had the phone lying on the side of her face. That was her routine every night. She’d be asleep soon. Sometimes she fell asleep with the phone still on! I laced up my new sneakers, then unlaced and laced them better. Pulled the tongue of the shoe up. Scrubbed the toe with a spitty finger. Gotta be perfect. You never know who might be at this party. Might be the finest woman I ever seen, and she might be looking for a smooth brother like me, with clean shoes. I checked my pockets and made sure I had everything. Keys, phone, a few bucks. I went in the fridge and grabbed the “Spaghetto” for Needles.
