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“Hilarious. You’re quite the comedian these days. There’s no other reason on the planet you would team me up with Baby Bulldog if you weren’t playing some enormous elaborate joke on me.”
Preston’s laugh confirms he knew this would be a problem. “Winter’s cool. Just don’t piss her off.”
“Too late.”
I cross the road, running along the low-standing cement wall separating the jogging path from the mile stretch of sand between me and the ocean. Remembering how much I love the West Coast, I smile when the sound of waves crashing onto the shore in the distance pierces through my tension. I loved New York, but there’s something about the West Coast that makes me feel more relaxed. Less tense. More athome.
“Are you running or fucking?” Preston asks.
“Running. I called you while having sexone time,and you’ve never let me live it down.”
“And I never will. You’re an asshole. No one does that. Even during boring sex. Literally no one.”
“I had something to tell you, and I didn’t want to forget.”
“And I’m sure your date was impressed with your efficiency.”
“Mydatecame four times. I remember because the deep grunting sounds she made as she did so gave me nightmares for a week. Needless to say, she never got the chance to redeem herself.”
“Like I said, you’re an asshole. Anyway, are you two going to be okay?”
“Me and Sister Winter? It’s fine. I’ll make it work. Just do what you have to, brother. Speaking of, how are the funeral arrangements?”
“Fine, I guess. Sondra is handling most of the arrangements while I deal with my family. I’d happily switch her jobs, but then she’d be privy to the dysfunction she’s marrying into.”
“What can I do?”
“Nothing. We’ve got this handled. Just help Winter with whatever she needs. Sondra’s worried she wasn’t in the best head space to be doing this wedding stuff to begin with, and now she’s doing it all herself.”
I reach a pier at the end of a small row of touristy gift shops and a coffee hut, and veer right to run the distance of the pier to overlook the water. My morning runs in New York comprised of running ten miles on my treadmill in my home gym. My view being day-break news on the television mounted on the wall and occasionally a less than desirable old man ass in the gym at my office.
“What’s wrong with her head space?” I ask.
“Some shitty break-up and her general distrust for the male species as a whole. She’s cool, Aleck. Give her a break. For me.”
That explains a lot. A heartbroken, man-hating, “cool chick.” Sounds about right. At this rate, the only thing we have in common is our reluctance to be at this wedding.
“I’ll tame the bulldog. I’m going to send over dinner for you and your guests tonight. You just let me know if you need anything. I’m serious, Preston, let me help.”
“Will do, brother. I gotta go. Love you.”
“Sure. Take care.”
I pull my phone from my pocket, clear the call with Preston, then dial Trent.
“Good morning, Mr. Fox. What can I do for you?”
“Good morning, Trent. Please send dinner for thirty people to Preston’s grandmother’s house every night until I say otherwise. Also, breakfast and coffee every morning. The address is in my address book.”
“Absolutely. Anything else?”
A devilish smirk carves into my face. “Yes, actually. Can you find a local singing telegram service…”
“Local to the resort?”
“Yes. I’d like a Marvel character named the Thing to sing a‘Thank you for helping me move’song. Pay whatever price you have to, but it has to be the Marvel character the Thing.”
I reach the end of the pier, slowing to a stop to take in the view. This beats old man ass any day. I miss the fresh oxygen pumping into my home gym, but I suppose the crisp oceanic air isn’t the worst invigorator.
