Page 672 of Deep Pockets


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“Mallory just clinched another deal. Helped get my parents’ house under contract at full price. Took her less than a week. That house sat on the market for five months. It took her extraordinary eye to make someone see how special it really was.”

He’s talking to my parents, but he’s looking at me.

Will’s phone rings. He grabs it. “Tony! I was just talking about the Maplecure house. What’s that? Great!”

Dad beams at me. “Congratulations, Mallory! I was skeptical when you took this little job, but you turned it into a gem. Maybe Will can find a more permanent position for you?”

In bed, I think to myself.

Doesn’t your mind go to silly Chinese-fortune-cookie jokes like that when you’re under stress?

Or just, you know, want someone so much that every word out of everyone’s mouth is a double entendre, even your own father’s?

No? Just me?

Will moves away from us, his voice a string of business jargon that makes it clear he’s just getting started.

“I, uh–we need to get back to–”

The kiss, I think.

“WORK!” I shout over my own mind, as if I can drown it out. Pfft.

It floats.

“You don’t have to be so adamant about it, dear,” Mom says, smoothing a spiral lock of hair off my face.

Dad leans in and asks, “How much you making?”

“One point two five percent.”

His whistle is appreciative. Nice to hear it directed at my accomplishments for once.

“No worries about living in our basement with that kind of deal,” he says, beaming. “Good for you, kid. Beats that porn gig you tried.”

“Dad!”

“Roy!”

“Am I wrong?” He snorts, then looks at Mom. “Let’s get outta here. Looks like they’re busy.”

No kidding.

They start toward the door and I walk along.

“So much for lunch,” Mom sighs.

“You were going to invite me out for lunch?”

Mom’s eyes flit back to Will.

“Mommmmm,” I groan. “Dad, you too? Quit trying to make Will happen. It’s not happening.”

Especially when you keep interrupting us.

“We’re just, you know…”

“Interfering meddlers?”

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