Playing Kissy Face

The police found some meth and some other drug paraphernalia in Woody's car so they impounded the vehicle. Thus began a campaign from Woody's family and Ricky's family against Brian Louviere, trying to persuade him to drop the charges.

"Done broke his jaw, his girlfriend, she done left him, boy ain't suffered enough?" Woody's dad pleaded.

"Got him all them tickets 'cause of you," Ricky's dad snarled. "You ain't happy with that?"

Someone scratched up Brian's truck. Someone attempted to throw a brick through his living room window, breaking the outer most pane.

The harassment did dwindle and finally cease after both Ricky and Woody were ordered into drug rehabilitation and given one thousand hours community service.

"I didn't ask for all of this!" Brian screamed as he sat in his truck, looking at the quiet street in front of his house.

Just then, a movement caught his eye. A boy, probably eight or nine, ran past his driveway. A second later, the boy turned and Brian watched as a football sailed over the boy's head.

Looking to his left, he saw another boy, about the same age, looking disgusted with his friend for not catching the ball. He couldn't hear them through the glass of his windshield, but he could imagine what the two boys were yelling at each other.

"I'm sorry," Brian said when Paul answered his phone. "I just, dude, I just..."

"Yeah, well, since you only had a forty six, you're in last place," Paul said after a long moment.

"Man, you remember? You remember playing football? When they'd cut the weeds down? You remember that," Brian said, tears trickling down his face.

"Yeah. We were pretty good," Paul remembered.

"Good? We were great," Briand enthused.

"Would steal them Playboys out of my dad's utility room?" Paul chuckled, having another memory of their youth.

And now? "Can look at Playboys and Parasols all we want," Brian agreed.

"Look? Hell, we can even get the real thing... Well, I can. You and Joe? Hmm?" Paul said.

"Anyway," Brian chuckled. "I'm sorry about tonight."

"I don't, I remember, we was all in such a hurry grow up," Paul said. "Now? Don't know what's so great about being grown up. But we're not nine anymore."

"No. No we're not," Brian agreed.

"Brian, man, yeah, look, forget about it. But dude, come on. Just because Joi fucked you all up huh?" Paul said.

"Yeah well," Brian agreed.

Joe answered after the second ring. He and Brian chatted for a minute. Joe accepted Brian's apology, but also echoed Paul's assessment; Brian needed help. Brian needed to get his head on right.

"Oh, hey, got me a riddle for you," Joe said. "What's got a big dick and hangs up?"

"I don't know, what?" Brian asked.

Then he was talking to dead air. Glancing at his screen, he saw that they were disconnected.

Brian chuckled at himself for falling for Joe's joke. Knowing Joe, the man would recycle that one and next time, Brian would be the one to hang up on Joe.

Brian started his truck again and edged to the lip of his driveway. The two boys got out of the street so that he could drive past. They smiled as Brian waved to them.

Brian drove to the Super One Foods grocery store. He bought a few boxes of disposable diapers, quite a few jars of baby food and a few bottles of formula. Then he drove to the homeless shelter. The grizzled old black man that opened the door cracked a smile when Brian held out the bags of food and formula. He then helped Brian carry the boxes of diapers into the small storage room.

"Thank you so much, sir," the man said.

"No, thank you," Brian said.

Brian drove to the Arcenaux house and brought in a box of diapers for newborns. He also showed Joi the small plush football he'd dug out of a bin in the grocery store.

"So, when you think she'll be ready play football?" Brian asked as he placed the plush toy into the crib with the sleeping infant.

"When her Daddy shows her," Catherine said.

"I ain't never going be nine again," Brian whispered to the girl. "But one day? You going be."

He stood up again and smiled sadly at the pink ribbon that now drooped on Candy's head. He walked to the door of the small room.

"Course? Probably won't be any more lots for you play football," he said sadly.

THE END

**Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. I do thank you sincerely for reading my stories.

I especially thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad, and those that take the time to rate my stories.

Have a super sparkly day.