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“Yeah, sure. Actually, I was wondering if you had a few minutes? I’m sure you’re busy since it’s tax season and all. I promise not to take up too much of your time.” Again, I feel nervous and rock on the balls of my feet to keep moving.
“Sure,” he says before turning to the receptionist. “Hold my calls.”
I follow Dean into a large office. He offers me a chair, but doesn’t go around to sit on the opposite side of the desk. Instead, he takes the seat beside me, which instantly puts me a bit at ease. The last time I was on this side of a large desk, I was in the principal’s office for skipping school.
“What can I help you with?” he asks, giving me his full attention.
“I know you’re not a financial advisor, or whatever in the hell they’re called, but I was hoping you might help me get some things squared away for the future. Or at least give a direction on how to start.”
“What are you thinking?” he asks, leaning forward and looking me straight in the eye. His interest is definitely piqued.
The next thing I know, I’m telling him my entire story. Everything about my mom and brothers, the reason we left Westville, and the debt I just paid. I even go as far as to tell him about Lexi and my offer to help her conceive. He’s officially the only person I’ve ever told about my past, without glossing over the big things, but there’s something I like about Dean. He seems genuine and trustworthy, which isn’t something I’m accustomed to.
Except where Lexi and her family is concerned.
We spend the next thirty minutes going over my finances, or lack thereof. I’m starting with nothing, but I have a thousand reasons to improve that situation. By this time next week, I’ll have a savings account, checking account, and something called an IRA. Whatever the fuck that means.
But if it’s going to help me protect my future – a future I want with Lexi and any potential unborn children I may be fortunate to have – I’m all in. But I can’t exactly offer her nothing, so it’s time to get my ducks in a fucking row. That starts today.
* * *
“Get in the shower,” I tell Jack for the third time in the last fifteen minutes.
The knuckleheads are running around in their underwear and the new armor Lexi got them for Christmas. I’m not sure what the hell is going on, but they’re wound the fuck up tight tonight, and they’re both grating on my last nerve.
“Jack!” I holler over the dying in the living room. When I enter the room, I trip over a wire strung about six inches off the floor and fall.
“Dammit, Jeff!” I growl, picking myself up off the floor.
“Dammit, Jeff!” Jack mimics in a pretty good impression of my no-nonsense voice. If I weren’t so pissed off, I’d find it funny.
But I don’t.
“Jack, don’t say that!”
“Jack, don’t say that!” he copycats, swinging his sword around and almost knocking his twin’s head off.
“I swear to God,” I start, but my threat is cut off by a knock at the door.
Tripping over a remote control car, I throw open the door, surprised to see Emma there. “Hey,” I say, stepping aside as she pushes her way in.
“I was just over at Abby and Levi’s, dropping off a pecan pie and a vibrating butt plug, and thought I’d stop by and say hello,” she says so casually, I almost miss what the hell she just said.
“What?”
“Oh, don’t act like you’ve never heard of a vibrating butt plug. It was a free gift with my last purchase at Adam & Eve. I already have three, so I shared it with sweet little Abby. Anyway, I thought I’d stop by and see what you were up to. Oh, look at this!” she exclaims, walking into my living room. “You’re having a party! I love parties.”
I follow behind the little ol’ lady who’s already grabbing a sword and hoisting it high above her head. “Grandma loves a good, hard sword! Can I play?” she asks my brothers, who stare at the crazy old woman like she has two heads.
“You want to play gladiators with us?” Jeff asks, surprised, yet hopeful.
“Damn right, I do!” she exclaims, smiling widely as she kills my little brother.
“Oh! She got me!” Jack stumbles around, drawing out and overacting his untimely death.
“I’m better with the flesh sword, you know, but this will do just fine,” Emma mumbles to me, an ornery smirk on her face, before she proceeds to dance around my living room like a banshee and stalks after my other brother.
“Could I, uh, get you a glass of tea? Or water?” I ask, scratching my head and watching her interact with my brothers.
