15
Grant
Two days later, Vin and I were playing Madden on my Xbox.
“You going to call that chick?” McAvoy asked, plopping down on the couch in the middle of my living room next to Miller.
“Of course he isn’t going to,” Vin said. He was bobbing and weaving with his players as he spoke.
“I don’t know, man,” I said.
My player sacked Vin’s quarterback in the last play of the game. I’d won again. Vin flipped me off.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Vin asked. “She’s just some chick that you had a quickie with in the back room of the League.”
“She looked like a little bit more than a quickie,” Miller observed.
“Bro, Grant doesn’t do more than that.”
“Vin, you blind?” McAvoy asked. “He pulled her onstage, and she introduced herself. How many groupies you know that do that?”
“There w
