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“Wild,” she says then with a snort. “I guess Jude, the Magic Dancer isn’t just a dancer after all, huh?”
I shake my head.
I guess not.
Wednesday, March 7th
Jude
Tossing the remote down on the coffee table after shutting off the Knicks game, I walk into the kitchen and over to the counter where I’d put my phone on charge a couple hours ago. It’s been going crazy with messages ever since the fourth quarter started, but fuck if I was going to miss the Nets getting their asses handed to them.
The sun glows through my floor-to-ceiling living room windows on its descent into the Lower Manhattan skyline. With a colorful abundance of nightlife and bars, SoHo is a natural fit for me and my lifestyle and has been since I moved to this apartment five years ago. It took a little while to afford a place this nice—and certain milestones in my career like stepping out from under Cruz Nightlife and into a leadership role at my own promotional firm—but I now live more than comfortably.
I pull the phone off the plug and scroll into the messages, and the running chat with my siblings is at the top of the list. I tap the screen to open it and read through what they’ve said.
Winnie: Hey, guys. Just wanted to let you know that we’re going to do family night at seven this Friday instead of at six. Lex has Mathletes practice, and I want to make sure I have time to get home and get dinner started.
Remy: Does it help if I pick her up for you, Win?
Ty: Oh, look out. Remy the suck-up has entered the chat.
Remy: Fuck you, dude. Don’t take your insecurities about being an inferior uncle out on me.
Ty: Excuse me? I’m the fucking greatest. And I’m a professor. Lexi relates to my intellect.
Flynn: You’re not even in the neighborhood, dude. In all honesty, you’re probably in fourth place.
Winnie: LOL
Instantly annoyed, I type out a message with hostile fingers. I don’t mind spending my time alone, but fuck if I haven’t been in a funk for the last day or so. It’s weird, and I don’t know how to explain it. But time with my family always pulls me out of shit like this.
Me: Why do you fuckers always make family nights happen on the weekends? You know I work every Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night.
Ty: Sounds like you just answered your own question, bro.
Me: Wow. I didn’t know I had a turncoat for a brother. And after all the time we’ve spent together over the years.
Winnie: I’m sorry, Jude. It’s just much easier for me to cook on Friday or Saturday nights during the off-season. I’ll go back to including you when I’m working weekends too.
Fuck that. I’m just as much a part of this family as anyone else. It’s not like I need to see them all weekly, but it might be nice. Immediately, I click to open a new message and start entering contacts—all the same, minus my beautiful sister. I feel a little bad cutting her out like that, but it’s a necessary evil in this case.
Me: Okay, fuckers. I’m going to Winnie’s house tonight for family dinner. Who’s going?
Remy: Did you not read that last message where Winnie expressly told you it wasn’t happening tonight?
Flynn: I’m not sure Jude reads.
Me: I don’t. At least, not well. No WoNdEr I GoT cOnFuSeD aBoUt WhIcH nIgHt tO cOmE.
Ty: Winnie’s going to fucking murder you, Gen Z sarcasm typing or not.
Me: I’m not a complete assmunch. Winnie said it’s easier for her to cook on the weekends. She didn’t say anything about it being easier if she didn’t cook. I’ll go by the store, grab some shit, and you fuckers can help me cook while she relaxes.
Remy: You don’t know how to cook.
Me: True. But you and Flynn will be there to supervise.
Ty: I’m pretty sure when Jude says “supervise,” he means you’ll be there to do all the work.
Me: Shut up, Ty. I’m going to help. Plus, I’m going to get all the groceries. What are YOU doing?
Ty: Oh, me? I’ll be helping Winnie hide your body.
Me: Bring extra tape and garbage bags. You know I’m SWOLE as a motherfucker.
Flynn: Eh, what the hell. What time are you getting there?
Ty: Are you serious, Flynn? Aren’t you supposed to be the voice of reason?
Flynn: Says the man who’s talking about hiding bodies.
Ty: Whatever, dude. I’ll help Win bury you both.
Remy: I’ll be there at seven.
Ty: You too??
Me: Fuck yes. That’s what I like to hear, boys. See you then.
Plan successfully achieved, I click out of my messages, shove my phone into my pocket, grab my keys off the hook, and head out the door. One quick stop at the grocery store and then Uptown to my sister’s house.
