“Dude, what are you even going on about?” Jude asks as I exhale and ash my cigarette into the wood chip area in front of the bay window. I keep checking over my shoulder to make sure none of the kids catch me out here. Uncle Zay is so goddamn cool if they see me smoking, they'll probably take it up like tomorrow. “You're in love with some twenty-two year old girl? That's gross. Why are you even sleeping with somebody seven years younger than you. Isn't that illegal or something?”
“Shut your fat trap, Jude,” I say as I take another drag on the cigarette and then cough. It feels really good to smoke once in a while, but also kind of gross. I feel this weird guilty pleasure as I savor the last cig I have left. I've kept it with me at all times for months, just in case of emergency.
This is so an emergency.
“I didn't say in love, did I?”
“Yeah, you didn't say the exact phrase 'in love', but you listed pretty much every symptom and consequence of being in love.”
“Like you'd know shit about that,” I say, wondering what he's doing while he's talking to me. He might be my boss, but I don't trust this guy for crap. One time, I found out he was actually getting his cock sucked while we had a conversation about my dead parents. That's just plain nasty if you ask me … althoooough I have been known to pick up my phone mid-coitus. Kind of like when Rob called me to ask about my driving up here. I should've let that shit roll to voicemail.
But then I never would've met Brooke.
“I've been in love seven times, you dick. How many for you? Oh, that's right: zero. Or if you count this Brenda girl, then it's one.”
“Brooke, man. Her name is Brooke. Get it right, please.”
“You need to get your ass back here before you ruin this girl's life. Leave her alone, man. You've got a chronic dating problem; don't inflict that on some poor woman with enough shit on her plate.”
“Says the guy who supposedly fell in love 'seven times',” I make quotes with my fingers even though the only person around to see is the neighbor that called animal control on me. I smile tightly at her and she turns away with a huff. “And then left all seven of the girls he was in love with.”
“Exactly. Because I am fully aware that I'm an asshole. I think part of you wants to believe you're some sort of nice guy or something. Face the facts, Zayden: you're a dick. You might smile and make a lot of jokes, but you're still just a single asshole from Las Vegas with no money and a condo you can't really afford.”
I roll my eyes and take one last exhale, smoking my precious cigarette down to the filter. I drop it on the porch and crush it out, leaning down to pick up the butt. God knows if I leave it here, one of those dogs or hell, one of the little monsters, will probably eat it. That would be just my luck, wouldn't it?
“I called you for advice, bro, but … that's kind of not what's happening right now. I feel like you're just taking advantage of the situation to insult me.”
“You just don't like what I have to say,” Jude tells me and I hear the jingle of the shop bell followed by the sweet chorus of giggling tourists. Makes me a little homesick. “Look, I gotta go. I'll see you on Thursday or what?”
“Friday probably. Takes me like a whole fucking day to drive.”
“Say hi to your hairless pussy for me,” Jude jokes with a laugh just before he flicks the switch on his charm and starts chatting to the women in the shop. “A clit piercing? I think what you mean is a VCH or HCH which I'd be happy to tell you all about. We do require a fifty dollar deposit for an anatomy consult—”
I roll my eyes and hang up on the idiot. He's been known to leave calls connected in pretty awkward situations, such as when he had his grandma on the line and started begging his then-girlfriend to deep throat his cock. Oh, Jude. If I'm a nerdy douche, then he's a dickhead douche. Nothing cute or charming about him at all.
“Uncle Zay?”
I jump and drop my cell phone … watching as the screen cracks into spiderweb formation across the front.
Cool beans.
Guess I'll be replacing that when I get back to Las Vegas.
“What's up, honey?” I ask, grabbing my phone from the pavement and standing up, wishing that Brooke were here and wondering what she's up to. This morning was kind of weird, but I felt like we both understood each other, you know? Like all these feelings we're both having are just … they wouldn't work out.
I run my fingers through my hair as I look down at Bella.
“Can you come jump with us on the trampoline again? It's only fun when you do it with us.”
I smile and reach out to pinch her cheek. Bella wrinkles her face up and bats me away, turning around and sprinting towards the sliding glass doors with an adorable childish glee—until she finds out they're closed and slams into them, ricocheting backwards into the kitchen.
Fuck.
Well, that can't be any good, now can it?
When Brooke gets back, she looks exhausted, her glasses sitting perched on the end of her nose as she hangs up that big ugly camel coat of hers and looks at the snot on my shirt with a raised brow. I can't help but admire that piercing gracing the sensual curve. Damn, I'm good.
“Don't ask,” I say, pointing to the snot trails and the splatters of blood from Bella's nose. “We had a little incident with the sliding glass doors.”