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“Be nice,” I whispered.
But Barry was unfazed.
“It was amazing. We talked for hours. About her three husbands, mostly. They all died, you know,” Barry added.
“How old was the woman?” I asked.
“Fifty-two,” Barry said, nodding for emphasis.
“You set him up with someone literally old enough to be his mother?” I asked, looking over at Junior.
“It’s not my fault she’s the only one who didn’t run away screaming,” he said, shrugging.
“Maybe it was good you guys just talked,” I told Barry. “Three dead husbands? She almost sounds like a black widow.”
“So, when’s the wedding?” Junior asked, and I couldn’t stop the snort that burst out of me.
“You’re so mean,” I said, shaking my head at him.
“It’s not his fault,” Barry said, shaking his head sadly. “He doesn’t get out much. I’m trying to change that.”
“No, you’re squatting at my place and fucking decorating for Christmas.”
“He loves me. He just doesn’t know how to admit that,” Barry said.
“Oh, for chrissakes,” Junior said. “I need a drink,” he added, walking past Barry.
“Hey, do you have any coffee liqueur?” Barry asked. “It would go great in this Rocky Road.”
“No, I don’t have fucking coffeeliqueur,” Junior said, shaking his head.
“He’s got a tough shell,” Barry told me, voice low, like I was in his confidence. “But he’s a real softy underneath.”
“Why are your fucking socks in my kitchen sink, Barry?” Junior barked.
“Oh, yeah, ooey-gooey center,” I said, tone dry.
But Barry seemed to miss the sarcasm. “He really is. Well, I needed to wash them,” Barry told Junior as he turned to face him.
“There’s a washing machine in the closet.”
“Yes, but no detergent.”
“What do you mean there’s no detergent? I just bought one of those fucking huge bottles before I left.”
“Well, I had a lot of laundry to do,” Barry said.
“You don’t fucking live here, Barry,” Junior reminded him, throwing back his drink in one big swig.
“I was watching the plants,” Barry insisted, giving him a wave like that explained everything.
“They’re not children. They don’t need twenty-four-seven attention.”
“Christ,” Junior sighed to himself. “Don’t you have work?” he asked, changing tack.
“I pre-recorded a bunch of content when you asked me to house sit,” Barry said. “Did a twenty-four-hour gaming session, so I have a few weeks of content ready to go.”
“You’re a streamer?” I asked, deciding that it did seem to fit him.
