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“Yeah, makes you more creative,” Andrew says.
“Bet you can devise a creative way to get those contract terms approved,” Shepherd says.
“And keep those assholes toeing the line,” Tyler inputs.
Stacey has taken a few puffs by the time Denise says, “Haven’t you heard of puff, puff, pass, bitch?”
Stacey tries to hold the smoke in but chokes on her laughter and the weed as she looks at Denise. When Kylie reaches for the joint, Stacey pulls her hand back, giggling.
Rolling her eyes, Denise says, “Shep, she can’t handle it. Don’t do this to her.”
He laughs and leans in, kissing Stacey on the side of her neck as she leans forward and gives the joint to Kylie, who is sitting on his lap. I have never seen this side of my stepsister, but it’s not surprising. We don’t spend much time together and haven’t taken the time to get to know one another well. We spent more years avoiding each other and despising when we were thrown together in situations to really give each other a chance.
Over the years, we would have lunch occasionally to try to build a connection. Still, it’s never been a strong sisterly bond. We’re more like work associates who have lunch together sometimes. Reaching out to her a week ago for lunch came at my mother’s strong urging as a desperate ploy to get me actively engaged in life again.
I knew Stacey was self-absorbed enough not to question me or look too closely. She was more wrapped up in the fact that I had turned to her and she could help than anything else.
Kylie takes a couple of puffs before passing the joint to Denise. Shep grips the redhead by the back of her neck and covers her mouth with his. When they finally pull apart, his cheeks are puffed out from holding in the smoke she transferred to his mouth.
I look around at the group, and they’re all giddy as they recount their first time getting high together as they continue to pass the joint around. When Tyler finishes, he passes it to me, and I shake my head no. He pushes it towards me again, and I shake my head no again, hoping he’ll give it to someone else, but that doesn’t happen.
“What’s wrong? You don’t smoke?” Shepherd asks, catching what’s happening.
I shake my head no.
“Have you ever?” Denise asks.
I don’t answer that question but say, “I’m not in the mood for it.”
“You’re no fun,” Kylie moans teasingly.
I laugh. “Sorry to be the party pooper.”
I’ve never been persuaded by peer pressure or seeking to alter my reality with chemicals. I’m just fine as I am, and I don’t give a damn who likes it.
“Leave her alone, Ky,” Stacey says in a low tone resembling a dog's protective growl.
“Hell, that means there’s more for us,” Lauren says. “Pass it my way.”
She wiggles her fingers, and Tyler does her bidding.
I stare at my half-eaten slice of pizza before I feel his eyes on me. I lift the pizza to my lips under his watchful gaze hoping the moment will pass, but it doesn’t. Not right away, at least.
The subject changes to the upcoming Christmas holiday, and everyone talks over each other excitedly about their plans. They discuss what they want for Christmas versus what they expect to get.
I’m lost in my thoughts, and everyone shifts around before long. Lauren drifts out of the room and out the front door. Denise, Tyler, and Andrew head into the kitchen. Kylie, Stacey, and Shepherd head up the stairs. He has a hand on each of their asses, and they lean into him, giggling and kissing.
It’s a wonder they can make it up the steps without falling back down them. I watch as he tongues Stacey and then turns to Kylie to do the same. They take the steps slowly, and when they reach the top landing, Shepherd’s hand grabs one of Stacey’s breasts, and Kylie moves around behind her to grind against her.
I roll my eyes and shake my head. They’re acting like horny college students with their first taste of freedom instead of adults nearing forty.
I sit alone in the living room with Kincaid, and we’re both on our phones. I roll onto the floor and lay my phone on the couch above me. He’s so caught up in something that he doesn’t notice my movements.
I lay on my back in front of the fireplace, watching him.
The planes of his face are smooth and free of stress. Whatever he’s doing on his phone isn’t causing him any stress at the moment, and it occurs to me that I like that. He’s typically focused and serious and already appears to be thinking ahead to the next moment instead of relaxing and being in this one.
A smirk crosses his lips, and I notice the bottom one is much fuller than the top. His nostrils flare slightly, and his smirk grows wider. I wonder what’s got his attention.
