“I told him he has a shriveled-up pecker, and he told me my boobs were like cantaloupes on bungee cords.”
Burt and Barb have an on-again, off-again relationship. Apparently, we caught them on an off time.
“I don’t give a rootie patootie if you two are CIA operatives charged with assassinating one another,” Mirna says sternly. “You get that man on that iPad of yours and tell him Finley needs his help.”
Barb grumbles under her breath but picks up the tablet resting on the arm of her recliner and Facetimes Burt.
When the tablet stops ringing, I hear him say in a self-righteous tone, “Well, look who came grovelin’ back. Missed my shriveled-up pecker, did ya?”
“Hell, no,” Barb spits in disgust. “Ira’s pecker’s bigger than yours and lasts twice as long.”
“Bullshit!” Burt shouts.
“Believe it or not,” Barb says, trying to act like she doesn’t care what he thinks, but I see the gleam in her eyes. She’s pretty pleased that she riled him up. “That’s not why I called.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass why you called,” Burt snaps. “Goodbye!”
“Wait!” Barb shouts. Her bluster comes crashing down and panic edges her voice. “I’m callin’ about Finley.”
He’s silent for a moment, then says, “What about Finley?” he sounds hesitant, like he thinks she’s tricking him into staying on the call.
“She needs legal advice. How soon can you get over here?”
“Is she okay?” he asks, now the one sounding panicked.
“She’s fine!” Mirna shouts from across the room. “And we’re trying to keep her that way. That’s why we need you. ASAP.”
He grumbles, then says, “I got a new brace for my dropped foot, so it might take me a few minutes longer to get there than normal.”
Barb shakes her head in annoyance. “Then get here when you can.” She ends the call and drops the tablet on the arm of her chair.
We all stare at one another, and I feel like a pendulum, waffling back and forth on this decision. I’ve spent the last ten minutes convincing my best friend grandmas that I should do this, but now I’m thinking it’s the worst idea ever.
“What am I doin’?” I whisper. “This is crazy.”
“That’s why it’s so perfect,” Barb says as she claps her hands. “Sometimes the best things in life are the craziest.” She leans toward me, stretching so far over the arm of her recliner to pick up my hand from my lap that I’m terrified she’s going to lose her balance and fall onto the floor. “You’re the oldest person I know, Finley O’Brien, and given that you’re only twenty-five, that’s plain sad. You need to be young. Make mistakes. Live.” She squeezes my hand. “Life is in the mistakes, girl.” She holds my gaze. “You deserve good things.”
Something in my heart latches onto her words. I want good things, so why do I think I don’t deserve them? But it’s also hard to take Barb seriously as she wobbles, her hips balanced on the arm of her chair like she’s mounted a balance beam.
A rap at the front door draws her gaze from mine, and she frowns as she realizes the precarious position she’s in.
Mirna opens the door, and Burt walks in with an exaggerated gait. There’s a brace on his right leg that wraps around his calf and shin and disappears into his shoes. It’s completely visible due to the fact he’s wearing Bermuda shorts and knee-high athletic socks.
“What in the world are you wearin’, Burt?” Barb asks while she’s flailing around, trying to get back in her recliner.
“I should be askin’ what in the hell you’re doin’?” he exclaims as he rushes over to her.
“I’m practicin’ a new sex position to try out on Henry.”
“I thought you were screwin’ Ira,” he snaps, gripping her upper right arm as he tries to drag her back into her chair.
“I am screwin’ Ira,” she says breathlessly, now wiggling backward across the wide recliner arm. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t screw Henry too. We women earned our right to screw whoever we want.”
“Not if some people have anything to say about it,” but I keep it under my breath. Although I wholeheartedly agree with them, I have no desire to get sidetracked for the next hour when all three of them get worked up over how hard they fought to gain women’s rights, just to see them stripped away.
Burt almost has Barb wrangled back into her chair, but I feel badly that he’s doing it alone. I stand, but Mirna motions me back down with a satisfied look on her face.
She’s playing matchmaker, and I’m on board with this plan.
