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I race to pull out the rest of the signs and throw them in the trunk of my car. “Hi! Thanks for coming. It’s a great house. Perfect for large families.” I grab another sign, dropping the one tucked under my armpit. “These darn signs. The company must have gotten the address wrong. I have no idea what these are. I mean. . . I know what pineapples are, but like, who puts pineapples on their lawn?”
Another car arrives, and a couple walks up. “Wow, more than one. We love these kinds of parties.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, swiping at a strand of hair sticking to my sweaty forehead.
“The ad. The pineapple house. We normally only swing with one couple, but we’re up for a new adventure.”
My eyes bulge out. “Say again?”
“Uh, the swinger ad you posted. I hope we’re not too late. You do look like you’d be a fun time. We also brought our handcuffs like you requested,” the woman says, brushing her finger down my shoulder. I stare at her in shock. The sign falls from my hands. A scoff from my other side resonates, and I realize the other couple heard the whole thing.
“Despicable. Good luck with your sale. Hope you’re moving far away. We don’t need your kind around our children. I’m going to make sure to tell my friends about this house and what they’re dealing with in their neighborhood.” The woman grabs her husband, and they storm away.
“Well, just us then—”
“Get off my lawn.”
“So, we’re not going to—?”
“Get off my lawn!” I scream, whipping a pineapple sign across the lawn.
“Bitch,” the woman mutters under her breath. They walk off, get into their car, and drive away.
I continue to stand there, staring at the lawn—the lawn that won’t sell because that woman will tell everyone I’m a goddamn swinger. “I’m going to murder him!” I start kicking the pineapples. One by one, I murder each sign, pretending they’re Ben’s head. Once my lawn looks like a pineapple graveyard, I snatch my phone out of my pocket and dial a number. “Hey, Hannah. It’s me.”
* * *
Ben
“Damn! What a double play.” I sit forward and grab my beer. “Got a nice little bet on this game too. He may have just won me a couple hundo.” I lean back, kicking my legs up on my coffee table.
Brady pops the top of a fresh beer, tossing the bottlecap across the room. “He’s about to be traded. I have no idea what the organization is doing. He literally makes this team.”
Mitchell reappears from the bathroom. “Dude, thought you died in there.”
“Fuckin’ tacos. They always get me. Plus, I got stuck on this porn site. Had to decide whether to shit or jerk off.”
“Dude, you betternotbe jacking off in my bathroom.”
“It’s your lucky day. The shit won, but I think your paint is peeling off. May wanna give it some time before you go in there.”
“Fuckin’ gross,” I groan, taking a sip of my beer.
“Feel five pounds lighter, though. What’d I miss?”
A loud bang resonates against my front door. “Damn, that the cops or something?” Brady jokes.
I peer over my couch at the door.
“One of your baby mommas finally coming to collect?” Mitchell adds.
“Fuck off. I know how to wrap it up—unlike some of you fools.” I get up with my beer, making my way to the door. Before I get there, another obnoxious round of banging goes off. “Chill. You’re gonna break my door down.” I take a large swig as I open it. Before I can register anything, two small hands ram into my chest. I choke on my beer as I stumble backward.
“You’re a piece of shit.” I open my mouth for a rebuttal but don’t get a word out because she shoves me again. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Spilled my beer on my freshly cleaned rug?Shit.” God, she’s strong for a little thing. I catch my balance before I fall on my ass.
“No, you cost me a potential buyer. The entire listing!” She goes to shove me again. This time, I grab her wrist and draw her into me.
