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I’m at my desk with bouncing knees and fingers that tap on everything other than my keyboard. The deadline is looming, and my stress is compounding by the minute. I’m making great progress, but I’m stumped yet again. This latest chapter is giving me a headache, and I don’t know how to fix it. Of course, it also doesn’t help that my brother keeps calling me almost every hour.
My phone rings, and I don’t even look at the caller ID before picking up. “Are you done yet?” Peter questions, forgoing any pleasantries.
“No, dipshit,” I growl, dropping my forehead to my hand. “And stop asking. Better yet, stop calling too while you’re at it.”
“When will you be done?” Peter prattles on as if he didn’t hear me say that last part.
“You do realize this is the author equivalent of having a kid in the car askingare we there yet, right?”
“Maaay-be.” He draws out the word like the twat he is.
“Definitely,” I confirm. “Besides, I don’t have time for your shit right now. I’m… a little stuck.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so, baby brother? Anything I can do?” My brother is annoying as fuck, but he’s genuinely trying to be helpful, in his irritatingly immature Peter way. But the most helpful thing he can do right now is to stop calling meand that’s never going to happen.
“I’m all set.”
“Oh?” Peter knows I’m full of shit. “How many words have you written?”
“Eighty-six thousand.” I squint at my word count. “Give or take.”
Peter whistles. “My evil plan worked! You’re writing! Ha, I told you so!”Such an ass.“Guess I’ll have to start baking you cookies when you get writer’s block from now on.”
I snort. “It’s not the cookies.”
“Oh!” Peter chirps through the phone. “Well, even better. My baking is shit. So, what’s the new strategy then?”
I dodge the question. “You just want me to make as much money as possible before I keel over and leave everything to you.”
“You know, I’m getting sick of your empty promises. You always say you’llkeel overbut never do. And right now, you don’t sound sick at all. In fact, you’ve never sounded healthier, happier, even—” He cuts himself off with a gasp. “Fuuuuuck!”
“What?” I ask, sitting straighter in my chair, on high alert.
“Your new ritual.” He snickers.
“What about it? I mean, what ritual?” I try to cover up my slip, but it doesn’t work because Peter begins to laugh uncontrollably.
“It’s Teddie, isn’t it?” There’s a pregnant pause when I don’t respond. “You and Teddie…” His voice trails off with a bad imitation of terrible 70s porno music.
“It’s not like that.” My face flames even though I know he can’t see me. “There is nomeand Teddie.”
“Oh, yes, there is. And I want no part of… that particular ritual, so you’re on your own. I’m into kink, but not that kind.” The amusement in his voice seeps through the receiver.
“Good,” I say before I can stop myself, and Peter just laughs harder. “And by good, I meangoodbye, you twat-licker!”
Five minutes on the phone with my annoying brother and suddenly I’m fifteen again.
Peter tries to say something, but I hang up and immediately put the phone on silent. I want absolutely no more of his nonsense today.
Sighing, I look back to my computer screen, staring at the blinking cursor as it taunts me. After a couple minutes with nothing coming to mind, I push back from the desk and wander out to the kitchen.
Teddie is there, of course, and gives me her signature smile before opening up the oven. Just seeing her makes my shoulders relax, and I feel all of the tension from my call with Peter slip away.
“I’m just pulling out the last batch for today. Want one? They’re sugar cookies again, your favorite,” she sings, thinking it’s the cookies I like and not realizing the fact they’re the closest thing to her taste.
I swallow hard and watch her turn around to face me. “No, that’s not what I need right now.”
“Oh,” she says, confusion clouding her face. “Do you need a drink? I can grab a sweet tea for you.”
