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He holds his hand towel toward me. “If you would just smell this thing, you would know what I’m saying.”
I snatch it off him and stuff it in the garbage bin as I walk past it.
“Good riddance.” Spencer huffs to the bin behind me.
We walk off toward my ball. “So, April has decided that we aren’t having sex anymore,” I say.
The two boys screw up their faces. “Why?”
I shrug. “I don’t fucking know. Something about intimacy or some bullshit.”
“What has no sex got to do with intimacy?” Masters asks.
“You tell me. Apparently, her therapist has been telling her to do this for years, but she hasn’t wanted to do this with anyone else before me.”
The boys’ eyes meet mine.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. Basically, I’m the only one she can stop having sex with. The old boyfriends still got it.” I exhale heavily. “And get this… she even made a bet on it. If I give in and have sex with her, she wants to fuck my ass with a strap on dildo.”
Julian’s face falls in horror while Spencer throws his head back and laughs hard. “Fuck me, Seb. For someone with such an innocent name, she sure is a fucking deviant.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, rest assured it isn’t happening.”
“What isn’t?”
“All of the above. No fucking of her or any fucking of me.” We get to my ball, and I drag it out from the tree. We hear a phone ringing somewhere.
“Whose phone is that?” Masters asks.
“Not mine,” I reply. “I accidently left mine in the car.”
A ding sounds. Someone has a text message.
Spencer digs his out of his golf bag and reads the text. “Oh, get fucked.” He drags his hand down his face. “Not that. Anything but fucking that.”
“What?”
“Charlotte wants to go to Edward’s for dinner.”
Masters and I chuckle. Spencer’s brother-in-law is the bane of his existence.
“Happy wife, happy life,” Masters replies casually. “It could be worse. She could want to fuck you with a dildo.”
They both burst out laughing, and I roll my eyes… again.
Fuckers.
“You ride that thick fake cock, big boy.” Spencer winks at me.
Masters gyrates his hips and pretends to slap something.
I exhale heavily as I take my next shot. “I don’t know why I tell you losers anything.”
“Because you need us to take you to the hospital when she breaks you in.”
They laugh again.
I slam my club back into my golf bag and storm off in the direction of my ball. “I need new friends.”
Four hours later, I get into my car to find my phone where I left it, on charge.
I pick it up.
7 Missed Calls: April
That’s weird. She never calls me. I dial her number.
”You’ve reached April Bennet. I’m sorry I can’t get to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Have a nice day.”
“Hi, babe. I’m on my way home now,” I leave on her voicemail.
An hour later, I pull into my street to see two police cars parked in my driveway. The front door to the house is open, and I can see people moving around inside. “What in the world…?”
April.
I pull up and rush inside. “What’s going on?”
The policeman turns to me. “Mr. Garcia?”
“Yes.”
“It appears you had a home invasion.”
“W-where’s April?” I stammer.
“She’s been transferred to Memorial Hospital by ambulance.”
“She’s hurt?” I gasp.
“She called emergency services because someone was in the house. When the patrol car got here, they found her unconscious.”
My eyes widen. “What the fuck?”
“We’re dusting the house for fingerprints, but unfortunately the security cameras weren’t recording. Do you have any idea why they were off?”
“That’s impossible. They’re always recording.”
“Yes, but—”
She’s hurt.
“Not now!” I yell as panic sets in. I turn and run to my car. I take off at speed.
Has she been shot?
I grip the steering wheel with force, and I drive like a maniac.
This isn’t happening.
The traffic is backed up, and I run my hands through my hair in frustration. “Come on!” I yell.
My phone rings through my car speakers. It’s Spencer.
I click accept. “Oh my fucking God!” I yell. “There’s been a break in at my house. April is hurt. She’s gone to the hospital in an ambulance.”
“What the fuck? Is she okay?”
“I don’t know, I’m in traffic, and…” I peer up the road to see that the traffic is static for miles. “Fuck it!” I punch the steering wheel.
“What hospital?” he asks.
“Memorial.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
I hit the end button and do a U-turn in the middle of the road. Cars honk their horns. I drive up and over the curb and cut the corner to take a shortcut. Twenty minutes later, I screech to a halt outside the front of Memorial Hospital. I get out of my car and run to the reception area.
“Hello. A-April Bennet has been bought in by ambulance…”
