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“Amanda Hunsaker,” she said before stepping into the street as a car rolled up.
I recognized the driver right off. Artie Toomey was a white trash loser whose family didn’t believe in birth control or basic hygiene. Why was this vision of beauty spending time with a rank turd when a finer brand of man stood right in front of her?
“That guy’s garbage,” I spat out when she slid into his car.
Inside the clunker were two more Toomey turds who flipped me off. I think one of them called me a snot flake, but the muffler sputtered so loudly that I couldn’t be sure.
“Hell, the entire family is garbage,” I said and flipped off Gretchen Toomey.
“Well, then even more reason for you to go eat a bag of mouse jizz,” said my dream girl, shutting her door and flashing a perfect white smile at me.
I will never understand why it took me so long to realize she was one of them. Likely, her beauty blinded me from the truth. The Toomey family is full of creepy, pale fuckers while she was a fair-skinned doll. They were Gollum, and she was Tawny Kitaen.
Long after they drove off, I remained stuck in my spot. People came over to see if I was okay. My brother, Val, even sped by at one point, looped around, and rolled up to the sidewalk. I could only stare at where the love of my life once stood.
“Did someone ask you a math question?” he asked, sneering at his insult. “Will we need the paddles to resuscitate your brain?”
“I fell for the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Val’s blue eyes glanced up and down the road. “Doubtful. Wait, was she a lost tourist? Oh, crap, did she think you were an inbred hillbilly looking to cook her for lunch? Dude, you’re far prettier than those ‘Wrong Turn’ fucks. Hell, you’re almost as sexy as me.”
I glared at my brother for mocking my pain. Besides, it was a well-established fact that I was sexier than him. Our sister, Tuesday, even did a fricking poll after our mother claimed her boys were equally perfect and anyone who disagreed was a muff cabbage. The survey solidified what I already knew—my hotness trumped Val’s.
“What was this bitch’s name?”
I gripped his shirt and yanked him closer. “Don’t talk shit about that doll-faced beauty.”
“And this doll thinks you suck, correct?” he asked, cocking a dark eyebrow.
“Shut up,” I said, relenting before anyone spotted me roughing him up on the street and called our ma. “She said her name was Amanda Hunsaker.”
Val adjusted his ballcap over his brown hair before snorting derisively at me. “Isn’t that the name of the porno chick from ‘Lethal Weapon’ who jumps from the balcony, setting off the entire case?”
Harking back to my family’s third-favorite Christmas movie, I realized Val was right.
“Coincidence?” I asked, scratching at the scruff I kept meaning to shave.
“She rejected you, right?” Val taunted. “So, no, not a coincidence.”
“Well, at least she has great taste in movies.”
“Now, who was this chick, anyway?”
I looked into his eyes and said the words no Mercer man should ever utter. “I think I’m in love with a Toomey.”
Val snorted like a giant pig. “Dude, thank the angels in heaven that you dodged that bullet. She’d instantly end up pregnant with your mutant kid. Soon, you’d reek of muff cabbage. I heard even if you go to one of those fancy spas where they scrub you down with Tibetan minerals, you’ll never remove the stank.”
“She was beautiful.”
“Then, how can she be a Toomey? I’ve never seen any that weren’t a five, at most.”
“This chick was glorious.”
“Was she pale?”
Shrugging, I muttered, “Yes, but most redheads are.”
“Good Lord, my brother from the same fricking mother, have you lost your mind? Redheads are genetically inclined to be mass-shooter-level crazy. Plus, she’s got Toomey blood running through her hillbilly veins. That’s not a combo that even a far better man than you could handle. Just wank it to thoughts of her and move on with your life.”
