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They all turn to me, Roger and Janine, Kelly, and most of all, Evie. Her eyes widen, tinged with naivety, as if she’s trying to figure out why I care so much.
“I’m just saying,” I go on, my tone lighter, “I don’t want to get in trouble, hiring an underage employee. So, she can’t be a kid.”
A weak save, but it moves the conversation along. Everybody laughs, and then Roger claps me on the shoulder but keeps his eyes on his daughter.
“You hear that, Evie? You’re already an employee.” He turns to me. “She’s been practicing. Fake skin… I didn’t even know it was a thing. How many hours did you put in last night, Evie?”
His head is on a swivel, and his lips spread into a wide smile. I almost want to roar at him to stop it—to stop being happy at his own barbecue, surrounded by his family and his so-called best friend. What’s wrong with me?
“A couple,” she says, shrugging.
“At least three,” Roger says. “This morning, you said you could tattoo a simple star.”
“Why was he called Starman?” Evie asks, looking at me briefly and then away.
It’s as if each time she looks at me, she can read the desire that seems hidden from everybody else. It’s like she can tell how badly I want to grab her hips, pull her right up against me, and let her feel my manhood.
No, I’m returning to the fantasy from last night. That’s bad.
“He used to mess around with throwing stars,” I tell her. “The name stuck like the stars did. He-he passed, so it’s in honor of his memory.”
“I’m so sorry,” Evie says, holding my gaze this time, but it seems like an effort for her not to look away, as if she’s fighting some inner instinct.
I imagine the monologue in her head.
Why is my dad’s friend looking at me so intensely? What’s wrong with him? Doesn’t he know he’s old enough to be my dad?
I take a sip of beer, just a small one, reflecting on the fact Evie can’t even legally drink. She’s nineteen, almost twenty.
Good. Young enough to give me all the children I want.
“Come on,” Roger says, clapping me on the arm again. “I need your help with the meat. When the guests arrive, a few people want to pay their respects.”
“For what?”
Roger narrows his eyes as if the question is obvious. “What else? For your service. You’re a war hero, Brian.”
As I walk toward the grill, I don’t feel like much of a hero. Every footstep has me almost turning to look at my woman again. It’s especially difficult because I know, from this angle, I’ll get a look at her round, sweet ass—an ass made for me. Bend her over, slip my manhood up her thigh, palm her ass, massage her thick, gorgeous…
Fucking stop. Dammit.
I’m hungry, but not for meat. I’m hungry for my woman.
She’s talking to another man on the other side of the yard. He’s around my age, on the shorter side, with a combover, and his wedding ring glints as he gestures with his hand, but that doesn’t stop the jealous monster from rising inside me, roaring at my savage instincts to make it stop.
My woman laughs at something he says, the sweet sound audible even over the music. The yard is full now, people talking in small circles and eating from paper plates. I’ve stayed close to the grill, appointing myself the cook.
It’s easier than walking around with people telling me how thankful and proud they are while I feel like the biggest phony going. Nobody should thank or be proud of me when all this obsession is swelling inside me.
Another laugh from Evie causes her body to shiver in the best possible way. It’s her size, her juiciness, every inch swaying, and there’s something attractive about her braid, how she often fiddles with it, adjusting it.
The man is over twice her age and married. She can’t possibly be interested. What if they’re having an affair? I’ll kill him. I’ll tear him to pieces and break his goddamn legs first.
“Brian?”
I turn at the sharp sound of Roger’s voice.
“Yeah?”
“I think that one’s done.”
I look down at the burger. I’m pressing down on it with the spatula. I don’t even hear the hissssss until Roger gets my attention. Laughing awkwardly, I nod. “Think you might have a point there.”
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Just a lot to take in?”
For a second, I think he’s talking about Evie and the man, but he means the gratitude and the attention.
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “Everybody seems to be getting on. Is he one of your clients?”
“Who?”
I nod across the yard to Evie and the man.
“Yeah, a real estate mogul. One of my top-paying clients.”
“Evie’s doing a good job at keeping him sweet.”
He nods and smiles, clearly not detecting the rage hidden in my voice. “Yeah, she’s the best daughter a man could ask for. Can I get another dog?”
