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Jesus, don’t be a clinger, Lauren. Aloud, I say, “Let's not take that chance. We’re done, all right?”
“Ok Ashy, if you change your mind, you know how to reach me. Do you still want to?—”
I cut the call, hanging up on her. I don't need to hear whatever else she has to say. I just want to relax a bit more in bed.
The phone rings again and I glance briefly at the phone and curse. I bet it’s Lauren again. If I don’t shut her up, she will just continue calling again, so I answer.
“I don’t need my dick sucked. Call Trenton or someone else,” I growl into the phone.
“Asher, I wouldn't even give your crusty, used-up dick a hand job to save your life. So back up with your nasty self,” the voice on the other end of the line says.
There is no mistaking that loud brash voice. “Oh, it’s just you,” I sigh with relief. “Sorry, Madison, I thought it was another number. Wait, come to think of it, how did you get my number?”
“I’ve been stalking you for months. I love you …” She bursts out laughing over the line, and I have to move the phone away from my head to save my eardrum. “I can’t even say it with a straight face. Yuk! I got it from one of the guys, you manwhore.”
I fist my hand. It's not the first time someone called me that. I don't like it. “Madison, you can call me anything but that…”
“Manwhore,” she whispers.
“I’m done,” I tell her, ready to hang up.
“Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I called you ‘cause Knox is here helping me pack up some shit, and I need another pair of strong muscly man arms to do all the work—I mean help me do some of the work.”
“Fine, give me half an hour,” I say, hanging up.
I still feel the sting of that hateful term as I ready myself to head over to Mrs. Kendall’s place.
My dad called me a manwhore when he saw a tabloid story of me dating two women after one another within a short period. He called me up to tell me they weren’t good enough, that I should rather date women who would compliment me, and make me look like I have sophisticated tastes—basically saying that I looked cheap.
Publicly, he speaks highly of me, applauding my achievements as if it was his guidance and love that drove me to succeed. So to the world, he's the supportive and loving dad of a successful son, always singing my praises.
But behind the scenes, my father treats me as if I’m still a child, too dumb to make good decisions without him. And despite winning three championship rings, he constantly keeps telling me I’m not good enough, that I need to do and be better still.
I’ve been avoiding him since I got back to Willowcreek. I expect he’s heard that I'm back in town by now and know that a call from him is bound to come at any second, but I hope he’ll leave me in peace for a while longer.
About an hour later, I'm at the house and arm-deep in old junk and boxes. “Why do old people love to collect so much shit? I just packed three more of these glassy dolls and they all look exactly the same. Who needs six of the same dolls?” I ask Madison as Knox and I pack up items in the living room.
“I don’t know, Asher, just put it in the toy donation pile. Let someone else figure it out,” she says shrugging. Some of the books she’s holding fall out of her hands, and she gives an irritated sigh as she bends down to pick them up, and goes over to drop them on top of the book donation pile. “Asher, don't talk to me while I’m working. Your jock-dumbness is rubbing off on me.”
“Madison, you wish I was rubbing something off on you,” I fire back at her.
Knox snorts, “In your dreams, Asher. You're not her type. Madi here has someone else in mind.”
She actually blushes and doesn’t say a word for once. I’m slightly curious about who has her foul-mouthed interest, and snicker to myself as I imagine her with a cowboy and seven kids.
“Forget that,” I say, wiping my brow. “What I want to know is why it's just us here working. Where are all the others?”
Knox drops the box full of vinyl he packed into the garage sale pile on the other side of the room and stretches. “Said the same thing. But, of course, we are the only suckers who actually picked up our phones.”
Madison shrugs. “Just imagine how Mrs. Kendall’s smiling from heaven right now. I bet she’s getting a kick out of watching you two work as much as I am.” She throws a book at Knox who dodges it effortlessly. “Quit complaining, you lazy bums.”
Knox glares at her. “Madi, my partner won’t appreciate me coming home with bruises.”
Now that he brought it up. “Hey, Knox, yourpartner? When did that happen?”
He rolls his eyes. “His name is Callum, and I’ve always been gay, Asher. You were just so head-over-heels for Samantha that you never realized.”
“Speaking of Samantha…” Madison wiggles her eyebrows and I already know where this is going. “I think she’s single right now, and the whole high-school-sweethearts-getting-back-together thing is just too irresistible to ignore.”
