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“I didn’t know it was you in the bedroom. I’d have killed you,” I say conversationally. This, by the way, is not an exaggeration.
“I know.” He pretends to wipe invisible sweat from his forehead. “Dodged that bullet. And there are more to come.”
“All set.” The saleswoman behind the counter hands Hale a small green gift bag with his latest purchase. He spent his last ten salaries on it.
“Anything for you?” She smiles at me sweetly as she goes back to admire the engagement ring in the catalog. The one Hale just purchased.
“Are you asking me if I feel like spontaneously spending thirty K today? Hard pass, woman.”
She laughs. I turn toward Hale and lift a finger in warning. “If you give me a sibling, I’ll fuck you up.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “You’re nuts.”
“That wasn’t a no. Give me a solid, binding no.”
“I’m marrying this woman, and she is forty-four. We may have a kid. We may not. Either way, you’ll find out in the next few years.”
So here is what happened: the day I came in with Jesse, my mom had decided to have a one-night stand with someone she had met at a bar the night before. Someone who had happened to be my business partner. She’d asked him what his name was. He’d said Johnny. He’d asked her what her name was. She’d said Ruslana. They both thought it would be nothing more than a one-time fling.
Then I came in, in the middle of their…don’t let me spell that out for you, and she’d kicked him out. Well, Hale being Hale, he got super pissed. First, because of the unfinished business, but mostly because he’d messed with one of his best friend’s moms. He swung by her house later that day to confront her about her lying to him. She pointed out that he was lying, too.
They told me the week after that they liked each other too much not to see where it would lead. They asked me, from a scale of one to killing myself, if it would hurt me if they pursued a relationship.
At first I thought I was experiencing a heart attack.
“Snowflake, check my heart rate. It’s as fast as a Ferrari.” I’d drawn Jesse’s palm to my chest. She’d said I needed to give them the chance to be happy with each other. With any other chick, I’d have told her to mind her own business and bend over.
With Jesse, I simply tossed Hale a look that said: break my mother’s heart and I’ll break your teeth.
If everything goes according to this fucker’s plan, my business partner is about to become my stepfather in the next few months or so. Weirdest part? He is two months younger than me.
But I promised I was not going to dwell.
I push past Hale as we both get out of the jewelry store, and stop in front of my truck.
“Good luck today,” he tells me.
“I’d say the same to you, but I really don’t want you as family.” I roll my eyes. I drive to where I need to drive to pick up what I need to pick up. Then go up to El Dorado to meet the girl of my dreams.
We live in El Dorado. In a house that costs more than we’ll ever make in our entire lives. It’s not ours, and we don’t pay rent. And it has a pool. And a tennis court. And a fucking bomb-ass maze.
I throw my truck into park and hop out. My gift follows closely behind me eagerly. It’s Jesse’s twenty-first birthday, and she can officially drink now. That’s good. She might need some liquid courage to answer my next question.
“Come on, buddy. The maze is fun.” I tug at the leash. “I did unholy things to your future mom there more times than I can count.”
“Jesse!” I call out to her, which prompts her breathless giggles, the ones that float straight to my dick. I know where to find her. In the center of the snowflake. “Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”
I’m praying the Labrador puppy behind me won’t bark and shit all over my surprise. Especially literally.
“Are you panting?” She laughs harder, and I shoot the pup a you’re-making-me-look-bad frown, trying hard not to crack up. Dude is killing my swag. For a cute thing, he sure sounds like a chain-smoking swine.
“Yeah.” I crack my gum. “Gotta work on my cardio. I could use some help.”
“You’re getting help twice a day, sometimes three on weekends.” She hmmphs. I know what she is doing. She is reading one of her smutty books. I’ve grown to love them almost as much as the classics. Pushkin was the man, but recreating scenes from smutty books is far better than trying to recreate his. Dude was fifty shades of cray.
