. . . . Gerald Larry Kensington . . . . . . .
I couldn't help the feeling inside me after receiving that call from Tiffany. She agreed to take care of Larry. I offered to go pick her up and looked forward to doing that.
At 4:32 p.m., I was pulling up into her driveway when I spotted her at the foot of her doorstep. She's busy, her cheeks burning red as she appears to have been laughing for a long time. I'm only seeing the side of her face as she looked up at someone with whom she was seriously talking and laughing. My eyes moved to her front to meet the same strand of hair I recognized immediately.
It was that same guy from the grocery store who'd been propped up against her desk talking to her, saying stuff that made her laugh.
I shifted in my seat as I watched them, my car moving closer into a quick stop. I felt my stomach rumble and it surprisingly hurt. I knew I should've let Carlos come with me when he suggested it back at the office. Now I felt bile rise at the back of my throat as I watched them. They seem so involved in the conversation, it's almost sickening. I suddenly wondered what his deal with her was. Was he perhaps her boyfriend?
I decided that it wasn't my business and decided to just kick the feeling behind my back and focus on getting her to my house. If only I was picking her up under a different condition, for a different reason. The thought caused a smirk to creep onto my lips.
She looked towards my car the instant I came to a stop before I stepped out.
"Oh hi," she said the instant she saw me. My eyes did a quick move to the guy standing beside her. "Are you ready to go?" she asked.