LOVE ‘EM(48)
I drop a couple of cubes into our glasses and pour more whiskey.
Bax grins. “You know, I can’t handle the firewater as good as you white boys.”
White boys.
“White boys.” My brain latches onto the first thing it can get traction with to figure out this Ronnie/Dave debacle. “Do you think that’s it? Maybe I’m not keeping up with what she’s had in the past.”
I pull the front of my pants out and check my cock. No. It’s bigger than most. I think. Fuck it. If I lacked something in that department, I wouldn’t have the reputation I do. That can’t be it.
“I need to get laid. Stick my dick into another pussy to wipe Ronnie out of my mind. Big fucking deal if she’s somehow managed to get a gay guy to drive down the middle of the street.”
“Women are a pain in the fucking cock, Brother.” Bax lifts his glass, and I bump it with mine.
“She’s just a girl. I’m a man. I’ll take this like a man.”
Bax nods. He beats his chest with his fists. “Yeah. Men. We’re men.”
“I have needs. She’s getting hers met. Why shouldn’t I?”
“Fuck yeah!” Bax rolls off the chair into the floor.
“I mean, if there was ever a woman who could make a gay guy want to dip his dick in the other side, it’d be Ronnie. She’s hotter than a—” I get down next to him. “Dude? Bax? You okay?”
His eyes are closed, but he lifts his hand. “I’m good. Good. Women—bad. Very bad.”
“Shayna’s giving you a hell of a time, eh?”
He shakes his head, and the shaking becomes a nod. “Shay hates me, Brother. Not just me. She hates the wind I’ve been pissing into and the air I breathe.”
I pat his head. Bull pushes between us. Jealous dog.
Bax covers his nose. “Speaking of the air I breathe…Bull, what the fuck? Aw, man, that dog befouls the environment.”
“Leave poor Bull alone. He can’t help it.” I grab Bax’s arm and drag him up. “C’mon. Let’s go show these women we’re men. Men who don’t need their shit.”
On the way to the door, I snag the bottle of bourbon we’ve almost polished off.
I pick up the box with a trembling hand. The instructions look easy enough. I set it on the shelf again.
No. Not possible.
The voice in the corner of my mind argues with my logic—my crappy logic, which is really more wishful thinking than anything.
Fine.
I snatch the box up and head to the register before I can change my mind.
Shay meets me at the door. “What’d you get?”
I tuck the bag into my purse. “Nothing.”
We get into the car, doors slamming.
Her frown does zilch to mar the beauty of her face. “Ain’t buying it, Rons. Give it.”
I narrow my eyes at her outstretched hand. “Best friends are a pain in the ass.”
She grins. “It’s a thankless job, but I love to do it.”
I pull out the dreaded purchase.
I slap it into her palm, holding her gaze. “Here, you—you—smiling, deranged…sloth.”
“Sloth? Good. That one’s creative.” She cheeses all the more, showing her teeth. “Well—you—you’re a sneaky…”
Her eyes drop to the purple and white box in her grasp. For a moment her mouth works like she wants to say something but can’t. When her eyes come to mine, they’re huge. “You—you sneaky prego-momma.”
I hold up my finger. “We don’t know that yet. It could be nothing.”
She lifts one eyebrow. “People don’t buy these for nothing. What makes you think you’re pregnant?”
I pick at the edge of my jacket. “Well, once the condom split down the side. Then another time he forgot, and I was too stupid to think about it. Missed a period.”
Shay throws her arms around me. “Oh my gosh! I’m gonna be Auntie Shay!”
“Hold up. Hold up. Let’s see if I am before we start picking out names.”
Her eyes go wide again. “Oh—will you want to stay with me? I’d love it if you did. I’m never having kids. I’d so love to live vicariously and help you out. Well, that is, if you and Jackoff aren’t going to become a real couple.”
An ache in the back of my throat stops me from talking.
After a few moments, Shay turns to the steering wheel. “Well, whatever you decide.”
The pinpricks behind my eyes force me to shut them. I swallow the panic welling inside.
Shay lays her hand over mine. “Aw, Rons. Don’t worry. You aren’t alone. Not for any of it. I’m here. We got this shit.”
I wipe the tears that escape in spite of my best efforts. “Thank you. It means the world to me that you’re being supportive and not treating me like an idiot.”