3. Quinn
“Break time!”Nick announced, his arms filled with water bottles.
“Where are the snacks?” River asked accusingly. “We were promised snacks.” He elbowed Gray in the side.
“Don’t look at me. I brought them. That’s where my responsibility ends.” Gray plucked a water bottle out of Nick’s arms.
“Our supervisor is slacking.” Zane took two of the bottles and handed one to Noah and the other to River.
Nick gave Zane another, then tossed me the last bottle. “No snacks until you’re done and can wash your hands. You’ve been playing in the dirt for hours. Did you learn nothing in kindergarten?” He pushed his white hard hat back from where it had fallen over his forehead and covered his eyes. “I think my hat is broken.”
“Gimme.” River put his water down and made grabby hands at Nick. “You can’t supervise if you can’t see.”
Nick passed it over. “Thanks, babes.”
River fiddled with the suspension harness, tightening the inner straps to make the fit tighter.
I cracked my bottle open and took a long drink as Noah, Zane, and Gray did the same. The six of us had spent the last few hours tearing up my walkway and were nearly done laying the new stones.
The house was in great shape, but the yards, decks, and landscaping had been badly neglected over the years, and I had a laundry list of things that needed to be fixed or replaced to bring the outside up to par.
The only reason I’d taken on such a big project was because of my background in construction and contracting—and the fact that I had a crew of friends in the same business.
Noah, Gray, River, and Zane had put in hours of work with me since I moved in, and Nick was usually around to entertain and supervise us. We’d already built a new deck around my hot tub in the back, fixed the outdoor fireplace, and replaced my shed.
They’d saved me a ton of time and money by helping, but that’s just who they were. Gray, Nick, Zane, River, and I had met about a year and a half ago when they’d been hired as dancers at the strip club I sometimes headlined at. It had taken some time, but we’d become friends, and now I considered each of them my family, including Noah, who worked with the guys and was Zane’s boyfriend.
“Here. Give this a try.” River held out the hard hat to Nick.
Nick plopped it onto his head and beamed a smile at River. “Thanks!”
“I’m still salty over the lack of snacks.” River shot Nick a pointed look.
“Same.” Noah patted his belly.
“You’ll get your snacks when you’re done with all the icky stuff.” Nick wrinkled his nose. “It smells like outside.”
“Imagine that.” Gray hip checked Nick.
“Yikes!” Nick stumbled but caught himself and did a pirouette-type spin, ending it with a sweeping bow. “Oh yeah. Now that’s how you do it!” He struck a pose, his hip out and one arm above his head. “You may applaud now.”
Dutifully, we all clapped, and River whistled.
“Thank you.” Nick bowed. His hard hat fell off his head. “This thing is definitely broken.” He straightened and glared at the fallen headpiece.
“I think the problem is gravity, not the hat.” Zane scooped the hard hat up and tucked it under his arm.
“So, how much longer are you guys going to be working?” Nick asked as we guzzled the last of our waters. “It looks like you’re almost done. Are you almost done?”
“Nearly done.” I surveyed the walkway. “I’d say an hour, tops?”
The guys mumbled their assent.
“Yeah, I totally see that.” Nick gathered our empty bottles. “Right on schedule, Mr. Reynolds.”
River snickered and flicked Nick on the butt. Nick jumped and let out a high-pitched squeal, the bottles flying from his hands.
We laughed as Nick whirled on River and put his hands on his hips in mock indignation. “Remember who’s in charge here, mister,” he admonished.
“That would be Quinn.” Zane slung his arm over Nick’s shoulders and pulled him in to smack a kiss against his cheek.
A flash of white and yellow in the corner of my eye drew my attention to the end of my driveway and the couple standing there staring at us like we were in the middle of a human sacrifice and not just clowning around and taking a break from working.
“Hi,” I said loudly when they just stood there. “Can I help you?”
The guys followed my gaze, their good moods melting away.
“Does the owner know what you’re doing?” the man asked.
“Fixing the walkway?” Nick took back his hard hat from Zane.
“I don’t see anyone fixing anything.” The woman glared at Nick. “Especially not dressed like that.”
Nick hung his head. His sense of style was unique and quirky, exactly like him. My blood boiled at his crushed expression. I counted to five so I didn’t cuss these assholes out for making him feel bad for being his awesome self. Zane and River stepped closer to each other, blocking Nick from view, as Gray and Noah stepped up to his sides, closing ranks around him.
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” I stepped closer to the couple, hoping to de-escalate things before they got out of control.
The woman pulled out her phone and pointed it at me. “Don’t come any closer,” she practically shrieked. “I’m recording you.” She fiddled with the phone screen. “I’ve got you on camera!”
“Recording us for what?” Noah asked. His tone was conversational, but his posture was stiff with tension.
“I’m going to show this to the owner.” She pointed the phone at Noah and sort of waved it at him. “I’ll show everyone. What company do you work for? You have to tell me.”
“No need to show the owner anything because I’m him,” I said icily, the last of my patience gone.
The woman stopped waving her phone around. “You live here?”
“I do. This is my house and my yard. So thank you for your concern, but there’s nothing to worry about here.”
“Do you have a permit for that?” the man asked.
“A permit for fixing my walkway?” I asked.
“We should report you. Who knows if what you’re doing is safe,” the woman added. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”
“Chill,” Gray warned the twins under his breath. “They’re not worth it.”
Noah subtly put his hand on Zane’s lower back.
River and Zane were the most loyal and protective men I’d ever known, and right now, they were seconds away from losing their shit on my neighbors.
“Quinn!”
Turning away from the couple, I saw Leo hurrying toward me from his driveway, a big smile on his face. “Hi!”
“Hi.” I waved to him.
The couple looked between Leo and Tristan, who was trailing behind his son at a slower, but still purposeful, pace.
“How are you doing?” Leo asked as he came up to me, ignoring the couple. “Hi, Quinn’s friends.” He waved to the guys.
“Hi,” several voices chorused.
“I like your shirt.” Leo beamed a smile at Nick.
Nick glanced down at his bright green shirt with gold writing that said “Sparkle On” across his chest. “Thanks. I like yours too.”
Leo grinned and puffed his chest out, showing off the solar system printed on his shirt. “I picked it myself.”
“Michelle, Kevin.” Tristan came to stand with us. “I see you’ve met Quinn, our new neighbor.”
The couple exchanged a look, then turned their ire on Tristan.
My blood boiled again at the judgment in their eyes.
“Your dog took a shit on my lawn again.” Kevin lifted his head and stared down his nose at Tristan.
“Language,” I said automatically.
They both swung their gazes to me, then to Tristan.
“What? You don’t watch your language around children?” I asked, adding as much fake sincerity into my voice as possible.
They ping-ponged their gaze back to me.
“Is there a problem?” Tristan asked.
They looked at him.
Leo giggled. “It’s like they’re watching a tennis game,” he whispered in that way kids did that was clearly audible to everyone in the vicinity.
A laugh bubbled out of my chest. He wasn’t wrong.
“We were just making sure our new neighbor has the correct permits for all the work he’s been doing.” Michelle turned on the fake charm, her entire demeanor changing.
“None of the work I’m doing requires any permits. My crew and I are more than capable of doing some simple repairs,” I said, mimicking her fakeness.
Her mask slipped but went right back up as she beamed another fake smile at me. “Then you won’t mind me checking into this, right?”
“Check all you want. There’s nothing to find.” I slipped my hands in my pockets and rocked on my feet like I didn’t have a care in the world.
“Why do you look like you smelled poop?” Leo asked Michelle.
River, Gray, and Nick all snickered. I held up my hand to Leo. “Good one.”
He slapped it and grinned proudly.
Tristan folded his lips like he was hiding a smile, then turned his attention back to the douchecanoes in front of my property. “I assume that answers all of your neighborly questions?”
“Let’s go.” Michelle tugged on Kevin’s arm. He followed behind her like an obedient puppy.
“Have a wonderful day!” I said loudly, waving at their retreating forms. “It was lovely to meet you.”
“Lovely is not the word I would use,” Nick grumbled.
“Thanks for stepping in,” I said to Tristan. “That was highly unpleasant.”
He made a sympathetic face. “They have a habit of sticking their noses where they don’t belong. They threatened to sue me when I first brought Freddie home because he barked too loud. Even sent a complaint to the city saying he was breaking the local noise ordinances, and he was causing them emotional distress.”
“And here I thought moving to a neighborhood without an HOA would mean I didn’t have to deal with people like that.”
“Most of the people on the street are quiet and keep to themselves. Unfortunately there’s a few like Kevin and Michelle who don’t understand the concept of minding their business.”
“Awesome.” I glanced at my friends, who were once again relaxed and crowded around Leo as he told them a story, gesticulating animatedly. I paused to listen in.
“Then he went under the porch and saved him!” Leo said.
My friends made various exclamations of surprise and Nick clapped excitedly.
“Wow, who knew we had a real-life hero in our midst?” Zane shot me a quick smirk.
“Right?” Leo exclaimed. “Like Spiderman.”
“Come on, kiddo.” Tristan looked up from his watch. “We gotta run if we’re going to be home on time.”
Leo waved at my friends. “Bye.”
“Thanks again for the save,” I said to Tristan.
“Anytime.” He smiled and raked his hand through his dark hair, messing up the already chaotic strands. “I’ve dealt with them for years. I know their playbook.”
“I might need to get the tea from you so I can get a handle on what I’m dealing with.”
“Tea?” Tristan asked.
“Deets,” Nick said.
Tristan shot me a baffled look.
“The playbook,” I clarified.
“Oh, right.” He chuckled, the tips of his ears going red. “I’m happy to share any time.”
“Bye, Quinn.” Leo waved and grabbed his dad’s hand.
“Bye.” I waved back. “See you around.”
“Our hero,” River drawled when Tristan and Leo were back on their property.
“Shut up.” I punched his shoulder.
“Can I get your autograph, Spiderman?” Nick batted his eyelashes at me.
“I hate all of you right now.”
“No, you don’t,” Zane smirked.
“He seems nice,” Gray said, helping Nick pick up the water bottles he’d dropped before we’d been interrupted by Michelle and Kevin. “At least there’s one non-asshole around.”
“Yeah, thank fuck for that.” I motioned to the walkway. “Now I’m glad everyone else on the street either ignores me or stares while pretending to not stare.”
“Adults suck.” Nick rearranged the bottles in his arms.
“And not in a good way.” Gray hip checked Nick again, which caused him to bobble the bottles.
“Eep.” Nick managed to not drop anything this time around. “Imma go inside before I start smacking people with these.”
“Sounds good.” I glanced at the other guys. “Ready to finish up? Or do we need more of a break?”
“I suppose we can get back to work. As long as there’s snacks after,” River said.
“I recall that we were also promised dinner.” Gray elbowed me.
“And beer,” Noah added.
“You’ll get it when you’re done working.” I pretended to scold them.
Nick tsked. “One minute you’re Spiderman, and the next you’re like that editor dude who keeps yelling at that reporter guy to get pictures of Spiderman.”
“So Spiderman took pictures of himself and sold them to that editor dude, right? Was that like the original OnlyFans?” River mused.
Gray snickered. “Can you imagine Spiderman selling nudes?”
“I mean, I’d sub to it,” River said.
“Same,” Noah and Zane said together.
Nick took a step toward my house. “I’m totally not gonna go search for that on my phone while you guys are out here doing your working thing.”
“Wait until you discover slash fiction,” I said. “You’re gonna go down the rabbit hole.”
“Now you know I gotta google that.” Nick darted away. “Finish your manual labor so I don’t eat all the snacks,” he shouted over his shoulder.
“Don’t you dare!” River shouted after him.
“No promises.” Nick’s voice faded out as he ran into one of my garages.
“Ready to finish up?” I asked the guys.
They nodded and got right back to work.
The rumble of a car turning up Tristan’s driveway caught my attention, but I focused on the tablet in my hand and the spreadsheet I was trying to decipher.
My earnings report from one of the sites I sold content on had the most convoluted system I’d ever dealt with. I spent way too much time each month going through it.
Muffled voices filtered through my open garage door. One of them sounded angry.
Lowering my tablet, I concentrated on the conversation coming from Tristan’s driveway. He was arguing with someone. Another man, by the sounds of it.
“You can’t just keep changing things without telling me,” Tristan said. “We have an arrangement.”
“You’re being dramatic again.”
“Dramatic?” Tristan’s voice went shrill. “How is it dramatic to ask you to respect my time and follow our arrangement?”
“I’m done talking about this,” the other man said, his tone bored and distracted. “Where is he?”
“Getting his stuff. You’re over an hour late.”
“All the more reason he should have been ready when I got here.”
“Can you at least text next time? He was worried about you.” Tristan’s tone was defeated and small, like all the fight and energy had left him.
The soft sound of a door closing stopped the conversation. The mystery man and Tristan lowered their voices to the point I couldn’t make out what they were saying.
A minute later, the same engine rumbled down the driveway and turned onto the street.
“Asshole!” Tristan exclaimed loudly.
Putting my tablet on my chair, I stood and went to check if he was okay.
“God damn fucking asshole.” He kicked at a rock on the driveway.
“You okay?” I asked over the useless shrubs that separated our driveways.
“Jesus!” Tristan whirled on me, one hand over his heart.
“Sorry.” I winced. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that. I heard arguing and wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
He dropped his hand. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Just…” He blew out a shaky breath. “That was my ex-husband. Leo’s other dad.”
“I take it things aren’t amicable?”
He snort-laughed. “I don’t think Simon knows how to be amicable.”
“You look like a man who could use a beer.”
Tristan slowly blinked, his forehead wrinkling in confusion.
“That was an invitation, just so you know. Not an observation.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Tristan chuckled, his shoulders lowering as some of the tension left him. “That would be really great right now.”
I waved for him to follow me into my second garage, the one I’d set up as my workshop. Like the rest of the house, the space was mostly empty except for some boxes I still had to unpack, a fridge, a coffee machine, a workbench, some chairs, and not much else.
Moving from a cramped two-bedroom apartment to a five-bedroom house with a full loft and almost an acre of land was a huge adjustment. My bedroom, loft studio, office, kitchen, home gym, and the main living room were the only furnished rooms in the house. The rest was empty space I had plans to eventually furnish once I got my new business off the ground.
Tristan looked around. “Is it true this was an art studio before you moved in?”
“Art studio?” I went to the fridge near the door into the house and pulled two beers from the shelf. “Make yourself at home.” I pointed to the cluster of four chairs in the corner.
“Do you know much about the previous owner?” Tristan lowered himself into one of the chairs.
I popped the caps off the beers with the opener on the side of the fridge and went to join him. “Not too much. Just that he’s an architect and designed the house.”
“Thanks.” He took the beer I extended to him. “I didn’t really know him all that well. He kept to himself. Honestly, I don’t blame him. He was the first person to buy and build on the street. Legend has it he owned my lot too but had to split it for financial reasons.”
“Really, I didn’t know that.” I waited as he took a long sip. “How long have you lived next door?”
“Almost twelve years.” He snort-laughed and took another pull of his beer. “Back when I was young and dumb and believed in happily ever after.”
“So, your ex is an asshole?” I asked, curious about that dynamic.
He laughed softly. “Yup. Which is why he’s my ex.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything, obviously. But I’m a good listener if you need someone to vent to.”
“Better be careful what you ask for.” He leaned back in his chair and took another pull of his beer. “Otherwise you’ll never get me to shut up.”
“I’m always down for some ex-bashing, just saying.” I crossed my ankles in front of me and took a long drink of my beer.
“Thanks. A few of these, and I’ll probably take you up on that.” He wiggled his bottle at me. “The guys who were here last weekend, are they your crew?”
“Kind of.” I toyed with the label on my bottle. “I work with them at a club.”
“A club? I thought you said you were a contractor?”
“I am, sort of. I guess it would be more accurate to say I’m in the process of becoming a contractor.”
“Oh?”
“I’m still setting up my business. Right now I’m my only employee.”
“I don’t mean this to come off the wrong way, but how are you able to…” He glanced around the garage.
“Buy into this neighborhood?”
He nodded, the tips of his ears pink.
“My other jobs. I’m an online content creator and dancer. Contracting is my next venture. Hopefully.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it and closed it again.
“You can ask whatever you’re thinking. I’m used to questions.”
“I might be showing my age, but when you say content creator and dancer, what does that mean exactly?”
“Remember how I said my friends and I all work at a club together?”
He nodded.
“It’s a strip club.”
His eyes bugged out, but he quickly regained his composure and pasted on a neutral face. “Oh.”
I waited for him to process that.
“And you’re a stripper?” he asked tentatively.
I nodded. “We all are.”
“And the content you make, is it also…like that?”
“You mean spicy?”
He nodded, his ears going red now.
“Yes. It’s spicy.”
“Like OnlyFans?” He dropped his voice and glanced around like he was afraid someone would overhear us.
I stifled a smile. He was taking this way better than most people I told. “That’s one of the platforms I use.”
He nodded slowly. “How long have you been doing that kind of work?”
“I’ve been doing the online stuff for about six years. I started stripping three years ago.”
“And you dance at a club in town?”
“Yup. Crimson Club.”
“I had no idea there was a male strip club here.” He grinned sardonically and lifted his beer to his lips. “Shows you how long it’s been since I went out. Do you dance there a lot?”
“Not a lot, especially compared to my friends. The club is only open on Friday and Saturday nights. Sometimes they’ll open for a Sunday or weekday event, but it’s mostly just weekends. I usually do two or three shifts a month, depending on when our boss needs me. My buddies work every weekend and have day jobs during the week. That’s why I called them my crew. All of them except Nick, the one with the colorful shirt, work in construction. They’re a crew. I’m just not their boss.”
“I’m sorry to ask so many questions. I’ve just never met anyone who does this kind of work.”
“It’s fine.” I finished off my beer. “I’m used to it.”
“The content you sell, is that just like, photos or videos?”
“Yup.” I put my bottle on the concrete floor. “It depends on the platform, but I don’t sell direct merch anymore. Just digital content.”
“Well, whatever you’re doing is obviously working. Good on you.” He toasted me with his beer. “If you got it, flaunt it, right?” He tipped the bottle back and drained what was left of it.
“Exactly. Another?” I asked.
“If you don’t mind.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I minded.” Gathering our bottles, I went back to the fridge to get refills.
“Are you dancing tonight? Or is this one of your Fridays off?”
“It’s one of my off days.” I brought our fresh drinks over.
“Do you have plans? I mean, I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?”
“No plans. My weekends are usually boring since everyone I know has to work multiple jobs. I’m lucky I get to schedule my own hours. My friends don’t have that luxury.”
He picked at the label on his bottle. “I’ve never understood how we can live in a world where people have to supplement their full-time income just to survive.”
“I don’t get it either. I’ve been in their place, and it sucks. Stressing about if you’ll be able to pay your rent, always doing the mental math and praying your card doesn’t get declined when you’re buying groceries. Having to choose which bills you pay and which you let lapse so you get stuck in an endless cycle of interest and overdraft charges that make it impossible to get out of debt. It’s not an easy life.”
“I can only imagine how difficult that is. I’ve never been in that position.” He dropped his gaze, like he was ashamed he hadn’t had to struggle.
“I can’t wait until we live in a world where no one knows what that’s like.”
“Me too. Especially now that I have a kid. This is not the world I want for him, for anyone.”
“How old is Leo?”
“Nine. He’ll be ten in the fall.”
“How old are you? I’m having a hard time placing your age.”
I was usually a good judge of age, but I couldn’t pinpoint Tristan’s. His unlined face, slightly chubby cheeks, and big blue eyes gave him an aura of youth and innocence, but the tiny smattering of gray flecks in his otherwise dark hair suggested he was older.
He was one of those men who could be a chameleon if he wanted. Put him in a suit and tame his wild, slightly wavy hair, and he could pass for any seasoned CEO. But seeing him drinking a beer in my garage, wearing a pair of worn jeans and a threadbare hoodie, made him look like he was any other guy around my age kicking back after a long day.
Even his physique was ambiguous. He’d obviously been in great shape at some point in his life, but he now had that in-between body type where he carried some extra weight while still looking fit. Average, but not quite.
Tristan sipped his beer. “I get that a lot. The baby face really messes people up. I’m thirty-eight.” He shot me a quick look. “And you’re…”
“Twenty-eight.”
“I don’t know why I thought you were younger.”
“Most people do. I think it’s because I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of me, so I don’t dress or act how most people expect me to.” I shrugged. “Or maybe I’m just immature and don’t realize it.”
“Doubtful. You seem incredibly mature to me.”
“Thanks, Doc.” I toasted him with my bottle.
“I’m not a doctor.” His ears went pink again. Interesting. “Not really.”
“I won’t call you that if you don’t like it, but you are a doctor. You shouldn’t diminish that just because your patients can’t talk.”
“Yeah, that’s a habit I’m trying to break.” He sighed and swished the beer around in his bottle distractedly. “Simon always introduced me to people as Mr. instead of Doctor. He said it was disingenuous to call myself a doctor because people would assume I’m a physician. And he hated that I kept my name.”
“He sounds like the type who would. Let me guess, he said keeping your name meant you weren’t fully committed to the relationship when, in fact, it was about possession. You have my name, you belong to me, and nothing more.”
“It’s like you were there during our arguments.” He laughed bitterly. “He insisted he couldn’t change his name because he’d already established a professional reputation with his birth name. I argued that I earned my degrees under my birth name and refused to put his name on them. That really pissed him off.”
“You guys had different names while you were married?”
“Yup. Leo has a hyphenated name. His first, but at least I managed to get mine on his paperwork too. It’s infinitely easier to deal with schools and doctors and everyone else if you have the same name as your child.”
“I never understood that whole thing.”
“What thing?” He sipped his beer.
“Changing your name. I mean, I get it from a historical perspective. Marriage used to be a way to transfer assets between families, so women changed their names from their father’s to their husband’s to show the change of ownership. But why are we still doing this now? And why do so many men get pressed when their partner doesn’t want to take their name? Why don’t they change theirs if having the same name as their spouse is so important?”
“I’ve never understood it either. I’m just grateful I stood my ground. I’ve seen how difficult it is to go back to using your birth name after a divorce, especially in professional circles. I can’t tell you the number of people I know who’ve kept using their married names because it’s easier, even if they don’t have children and have every reason to take their names back.”
“I can’t imagine having to use the name of someone who could have been an abuser or even just an asshole. No one gets divorced because they’re besties with their ex. Being tied to them through their name would suck.”
“So true.” Tristan paused and pursed his lips. He’d done that a few times. Was that his tell that he was thinking about something, or was that a sign he was stopping himself from saying something?
“Can I ask something?”
I nodded. “You don’t have to ask permission to ask questions. I might not answer, but you’re free to say whatever you want. In case you haven’t noticed, I give zero fucks about propriety. As long as what you say isn’t hateful or based on misinformation. Those are two hard limits for me. And I’m a millennial. I will come at you with sources and facts if you try to bullshit me.”
He laughed and ran his finger over the rim of his bottle. “I mean, same. All those years of having to double-check sources and fact-check everything you read on the internet trained us to turn every argument into a debate.”
“You said you had a question?” I circled back to what we’d been talking about. I could go on tangents for days if I didn’t check myself.
“Oh, right. I’ve seen an older guy, well, older than me but not old, around your property. I’m ashamed to admit I thought he was the owner when I went over after the Jinx incident. That’s why I was such a blubbering mess. I was expecting to talk to him, and my brain was still scrambled from my day, so I sort of short-circuited and made a fool of myself when you opened the door.”
I chuckled and sipped my beer. I’d wondered why Tristan had seemed so flustered. “That’s my dad.”
Tristan choked on the sip of beer he’d just taken. “Sorry,” he spluttered and pounded on his chest. “That was your dad?”
I was used to this reaction, so I didn’t even blink at his incredulous tone. “Yup.”
“Either he hit the genetic jackpot and looks amazing for his age, or he’s way too young to be a dad to a twenty-eight-year-old.”
“It’s a bit of both, but mostly the second one. He was sixteen when I was born.”
“So your dad is only six years older than me.” He pursed his lips. “Yup. This is one of those moments where I feel my age.”
“Everyone takes different paths in life.” I took a long draw from my beer. “Age is only a number.”
“So they say.”
The silence between us stretched.
“Your ex sounds like someone hit him with a bag of ugly,” I said to lighten the mood. “We could talk about that.”
Tristan spluttered again, but this time with laughter. “Are you sure you’re ready for this conversation?”
“I’m all about the tea. Hit me.” I made a bring it motion with my hand.
“Simon is…exhausting.” He held up his bottle and peered into it, gently swirling the liquid around. “We have 50/50 custody, and Leo goes between our houses every Friday. That means he does a week with me, then a week with Simon. Lather, rinse, repeat.”
“So that’s a regular thing, the pickup?”
He nodded. “Every other Friday. Our arrangement says he’s supposed to pick him up at six, the same as I do on opposite weeks, but Simon likes to be in control, and he knows how much I hate feeling out of control.”
I made a sympathetic sound, giving him the space to keep talking if he wanted.
“Everything is a power play to him. I buy Leo new shoes for school, let him pick the ones he wants, then they ‘disappear’ on Simon’s week, and he buys him expensive replacements that aren’t what Leo wants or likes. Same with his toys or whatever he’s interested in at the moment. I want him to figure out who he is on his own, but Simon is always pushing the things he feels are appropriate on him, which really just means what’s popular or trendy or what he likes.”
“That’s frustrating,” I said softly. I could tell by how the words just spilled out of him that he’d been holding this in for a long time.
“So frustrating. And pointless. It’s like when he ignores the schedule and just shows up whenever he wants. He knows it bothers me when people don’t respect other people’s time. I get it if you’re running late or something came up, but it’s the lack of communication that drives me nuts. Simon is the most punctual person I’ve ever known. He used to stand in the doorway of our room when I’d get ready for whatever thing we had to go to and make sure I didn’t take more than my allotted time. And more than once, he turned off the water so I couldn’t take a shower before we had to be somewhere because I got home later than I was supposed to and ‘lost’ my shower privileges. I work in animal medicine. Trust me when I say everyone wants me to shower after work.”
I bit the inside of my lip so I didn’t show any sort of emotion. Controlling was one thing, but what Tristan was describing sounded more like abuse.
“The worst part is how his behavior forces me to cover for him with Leo. He doesn’t understand that he’s only hurting our son with these stupid head games. He doesn’t see how worried Leo gets when he’s hours late with no word or how sad it makes him to think his dad forgot about him or doesn’t want to see him. It kills me that I have to make excuses for his bullshit when he”s the one who’s actively hurting our child because he’s trying to hurt me.”
“That’s not okay. Kids should never be put in the middle of adult problems. I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”
The more Tristan told me, the more it sounded like he’d escaped not just a bad marriage, but an abusive one. The whole concept of an adult having shower privileges in their own home was baffling to me. What else had Simon convinced Tristan was normal when it clearly wasn’t?
“At least he left his boy toy at home.” He sighed into his bottle.
“Boy toy?”
“Jace. His boyfriend.” He made a face. “He’s not a bad guy. Leo likes him, and he’s the only one in that house who actually spends time with him and lets him be a kid. I don’t dislike him as a person. I just hate how all our mutual friends and contacts just accepted their relationship and act like I’m the bad guy for not welcoming Jace with open arms like they have.”
“How long have you been divorced?”
“Six months. We separated eighteen months ago.”
“That was fast.”
“Simon is an attorney.” He laughed into his beer, then gulped down several swallows. “And he’s good at what he does. He had all his ducks in a row long before he walked out on me, and I never suspected a thing.”
“Oof, that sucks.”
“Yeah. Luckily a friend of mine is a divorce attorney, and she represented me. I would have lost a lot more if it wasn’t for her.”
“And he moved on with his boy toy right away?”
“Oh yeah. Announced the relationship and moved him in two weeks after he filed for divorce.” He snort-laughed. “I’m not saying they got together while we were together, but I’m not not saying it. Everyone else believes it started after our breakup, but spoiler alert, they cheated.” Something in his tone caught my attention. His words were slurring together slightly.
“But whatever. He’s Jace’s problem now.” He finished off his beer and showed me the empty bottle. “I must warn you that I’m a lightweight and I’m feeling this.”
“Do you want some water? Or maybe something to eat? I’m doing my usual Friday night routine and ordering pizza so I can gorge until I fall into a food coma.”
He tilted his head and studied me, raking his gaze up and down my body. “You eat pizza? But you’re so fit. Like one of those influencers who seem like they’re just like everyone else but look like they live in the gym.” He widened his eyes. “Wait, would you be considered an influencer since you sell yourself? No, not yourself. I meant you’re your product. Like you sell yourself as your product.” He shot me a pleading look. “Please stop me, or this will go on forever.”
I laughed, unable to hold back any longer. “I should let you keep going. That was quality entertainment.”
“Glad to be the comic relief.” He waved a hand at me. “But seriously, how do you stay in that kind of shape if you eat food like a normal person?”
“Good genes. And I’ve been athletic most of my life. It’s a lot easier to maintain once you have a solid base. And having my livelihood be dependent on what people think of my looks is a great motivator to work out.”
“Maybe that’s my problem. I never maintained my base.” He patted his stomach. “Once upon a time, I was in shape, but then I got too busy being a nerd to do more than the bare minimum needed to look half-decent naked.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Nerds rule the world.”
“So they tell us.” He handed me his empty bottle. “You should probably take this before I drop it.”
“Pizza, yes or no?” I took the bottle from him.
“Yes, if you’re still asking.”
Standing, I went to toss the bottles into the recycling. “What do you like on your pizza?”
“Anything except anchovies.”
“Even pineapple?”
“Hell yes to pineapple. That’s a hill I’m willing to die on.”
Chuckling, I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “Hard same. How about Hawaiian with olives and hot peppers? Get the full salty/sweet/spicy experience?”
“Sounds like a party for my mouth.” He widened his eyes and slapped his hand over his mouth with an audible crack.
I burst out laughing. “A good mouth party?” I teased.
He dropped his hand, an impish grin tilting his lips. “Best one I’ve had in a while.”
I wiggled my phone at him. “I’m ordering breadsticks, extra dipping sauce, and funnel cake. Time to make it a mouth extravaganza.”
Tristan laughed, the sound loud and booming and filled with joy. “A mouth extravaganza,” he repeated when he could talk. “Never had one of those before.”
I bit back my retort. I’d been honest with him about my current jobs, but I hadn’t told him about my time in porn. I had to be careful not to let anything slip that might trip his radar and lead to a conversation I wasn’t ready to have.
Telling people I stripped or sold jerk-off videos online was an entirely different experience from telling people I used to film porn. Tristan seemed open-minded and chill, but this was our first real conversation. I needed some time to sus out whether he’d be okay with my past before I told him about it.
“Any preference for sauces?” I asked, skirting the issue by changing the subject.
“I like all of them as long as they’re not dill pickle.”
“You don’t like dill pickles?”
“Nope. Not anymore.”
I opened the app for the local pizza place I liked on my phone and settled in my chair to put in our order. “I’m sensing a story.”
“It’s nothing crazy. My sister dared me to eat an entire jar of pickles when we were fourteen. I did it but spent the rest of the night hugging the toilet. That was the last time I ever ate a pickle.”
“Was that Lydia, or do you have another sister?”
“That was her. We have an older brother, but she’s my only sister.”
“You said when you were fourteen. Are you and her twins?”
He nodded. “She’s older by six minutes, and she’s never let me forget it. Do you have any siblings?”
I finished filling my cart with food and hit the checkout option. “I have two stepbrothers, but no blood siblings.”
“Are you close with them?”
I finished putting in our order, then tucked my phone into my pocket. “Yup. They’re both younger, but we’ve always gotten along. I think it helps that our parents were best friends before they started dating, so it wasn’t a big change when they got together because we were already part of each other’s lives.”
“I worry about Leo being an only child.” Tristan toyed with a crease in his jeans. “His cousins are all so much older than him, and he has no interest in sports or any sort of group activities. He doesn’t really spend a lot of time with kids his age when he’s not in school.”
“I was an only child until I was fifteen. It’s not the worst thing for a kid. And he seems well adjusted.”
“True. I just worry about…well, pretty much everything. This wasn’t the life I imagined for us when he was born.”
“Parenting isn’t easy. And I know this sounds empty coming from someone who doesn’t have kids, but my dad always says that as long as you do the best you can with the tools and information you have at the time, then you’re doing your best, and that’s all you can really do as a parent.”
“Your dad sounds like a wise man.”
“He is. He’s taught me a lot.” I motioned to the fridge. “Want a water while we wait for food? It should be here in about forty minutes.”
“That would be great, thanks. How much is my half?” He reached into his back pocket.
“Nothing. You’re saving me from an evening alone.” Standing, I went to the fridge to grab a couple of bottles, some of the restless energy that had been plaguing me for the past few days settling.
I liked Tristan. He was fun to talk to, and he seemed like a great guy.
Maybe living here wouldn’t be so bad now that I had one potential friend on the street.