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I nodded.
“Spitfire, isn’t she?”
“That’s one way to put it.”
Frank’s laughter boomed in my ear. “You don’t like each other or what?” When I didn’t answer, he slapped my shoulder. “Cat got your tongue?”
“We’re not exactly peas in a pod if that’s what you were hoping for.”
He sipped from his beer. “She looks just like her mother, doesn’t she? A knockout. She and Caroline could be twins.”
I continued to eat, my attention on the TV. I’d spent most of last night bouncing a tennis ball off my bedroom wall, trying to release some tension. And when that didn’t work, I closed my eyes and took my dick in my hand, hating myself for coming with Gemma’s face in the front of my mind. She was a real knockout who had a mean one-two with words.
“Gemma’s nothing like Caroline.”
Frank nodded. “That’s why I like her so much. You could learn a little something from Gem.”
I almost choked on my sandwich. “I could learn from her?”
“Yeah.” He smacked my back a few times as I coughed. “You need to have a little fun in your life.”
“I have fun,” I said, reaching for a water bottle.
He stole a chip from my plate and shoved it into his mouth. “When? With who?”
“My friends.”
Frank snuffed out a laugh. “Your friends? You have two friends, Kevin and Luke. I mean girlfriends.”
I wiped a bit of mayo from the corner of his mouth. “You know I don’t have any. Nor do I want one right now.”
I prayed for a distraction from having this conversation again. I didn’t want to commit to just any woman simply because it’d make Frank happy or because I feared being alone. If or when I chose to settle down, I would. Until then, I liked my life fine the way it was.
Thankfully, a buzzer on Frank’s office phone rang, followed by a voice. “Mr. Santos, you have a special delivery.”
The men in the room whistled as Frank pressed a button on his phone. “Send it in.” Then he glanced back to me. “You need to loosen up, kid.” Moments later, his office door opened, and a Marilyn Monroe look-alike sauntered in. “Right on time, Miss Monroe. My friend Jason needs to have some fun.”
The woman swirled around to where Frank pointed.
“Anything you say, Mr. Santos,” she cooed. Marilyn pursed her lips and winked at me before swaying over to my lap.
Hours later, I pulled into my garage, well after my usual time getting home from work. I lazily unknotted my tie as I winded my way through the back door in the garage and then into the kitchen, which was decked out in state-of-the-art appliances. I grabbed milk out of the refrigerator and drank it straight from the carton because I could.
Once I put the milk back in place, I paused a moment at the picture held up by a magnet on the fridge, the same usual pang of longing burning in my chest. The photo was of me with my parents, huddled together on a blanket outside, a picnic set between us. I shared my father’s nose and smile but had the same color of eyes and hair as my mother. It was the only picture I displayed of them in the whole house. All the rest of the family photos and mementos were stored in a few boxes, where I didn’t have to face them every day.
Upstairs, I swung open the double doors to my bedroom and sat on the California king-size bed, stripping off my shirt to rub at the lipstick marks on the collar before tossing it in the laundry. I took off my slacks and stepped inside the walk-in closet. My work clothes hung neatly on racks, while folded jeans, shorts, and shirts stacked the shelves. Sneakers and shoes were piled underneath. The entire right side of the closet was barren.
What could I say? I didn’t like clutter.
I pulled on a T-shirt and mesh shorts and slipped on a pair of sneakers. Closing the closet doors, I considered my bedroom. It was empty. Save for the bed and miscellaneous gray chair and lamp in the corner of the room. I could admit to myself that my bedroom was empty.
The whole house, really.
I worked hard for the things I wanted. I had a big house, a lot of toys, and a few women to fill up my nights. But still, the fact remained, my bedroom was empty.
But it’s not like I was upset about it.
Not really.
