Page 76 of The Lipstick Flip

Ed waited. In the background, somebody got the Daily Double.

“That’s a good idea,” I said. “Thanks.”

“You want to talk about it?”

A rap came at the door, and I said, “No. I’m good.”

“You sure?”

The rap came again. “Somebody’s at the door. I’m sure. Thanks, Ed.”

I felt a lot less sure when I opened the door and Auggie was standing there. Short, with brown skin and his hair in a crew cut, he was dressed in a sweater with a reindeer on it and corduroy trousers that showed off his bubble butt. He had on soft leather shoes without socks, and he’d parked his sleek little Audi at the curb. For some reason, he was carrying what looked like a lunchbox.

I leaned on the jamb. “What’s up, tater top?”

It was the kind of thing that would have pushed all of Theo’s buttons, but since Auggie’s husband wasn’t there, Auggie just grinned. “Hey, Cart.”

If there was one sign of how far back I went with the little squirt, it was that name. Back from when I’d been a cop. Before anybody but my mom called me Howie. Before I’d come out—if you could call it that.

I looked at the lunchbox. “Big first day at school?”

Laughing, Auggie stepped forward, and I moved to let him in. I shut the door behind him as Auggie took a few steps into the house. He whistled as he looked around. “The place looks great, Cart.”

“Took me long enough.”

“God, it’s not even the same house. But it is. How’d you do that?”

“Magic cock.”

Auggie didn’t even bother responding to that one; he was stroking the chaise like it was a pet dog. “This is gorgeous. Where’d you get it?”

“Not to be rude,” I said, “but what the fuck do you want?”

And that definitely would have sent Theo into the red. As usual, though, Skippy just smiled like I’d made a joke. It was like the kid was Teflon. He held out the lunchbox, which turned out not to be a lunchbox but one of those decorative tins people handed out at the holidays. “Theo and I made cookies this year, and I wanted to bring you some.”

“Bullshit.”

Auggie actually burst out laughing. “You know, that works with most people.”

“What do you want, Sparky?”

He’d been so young when I’d met him. Young, and determined to get into Theo’s pants, even if he wouldn’t admit it at the time. And annoying, if I was being honest, although some of that might have had something to do with the fact that I wanted to get into Theo’s pants too. And right then, as the smile smoothed into well-worn confidence, I couldn’t help the startled realization that he was older, that he’d grown, that I was talking to an adult.

“We—I—saw Noah’s post.” He waited like I might step into that fucking minefield. Then he said, “Cart, I thought you got divorced.”

“Yeah, well, so did I.”

His eyebrows arched at that. “Uh, so the post seemed…positive. Is this a happy thing?”

“Turns out it’s not.” A bitter note I couldn’t quite swallow filled the rest of the words: “You’re about a day too late.”

“Oh Cart. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well. Sorry in one hand. Your dick in the other.”

“I thought the saying was ‘wish in one hand.’”

“You can say it about more than one thing, Cap’n Crunch.”