Round Thirteen
BILLY
“You can delete that Wilbert nonsense right fuckin’ now.” I stalk toward my fridge and rip the door wide, only to growl at the realization that it’s been open since… I don’t even know when. This morning? I snatch out a bottle of water—still cold—and slam the door without offering any to Magnolia.
Because I have a reputation to uphold.
“Participate appropriately, and I’ll delete the Wilbert part.” Entirely too fucking smug, she hits me with a smile that steals the breath from my lungs. “What physical attributes do you find yourself attracted to these days? Do you prefer a certain hair color over others? A build?”
“I like ‘em with massive tits and edible asses. Oh, and I prefer it when they don’t cop an attitude.” I crack my water open and chug enough to wash the burn of my shitty words down. “Honestly, I prefer they don’t speak at all.”
“Mmhm.” She has more control over her temper than I do, because she writes her notes and manages a sweet smile instead of the sneer she should be wearing. “Aria was blonde. Do you still like that?”
“Nope.” Fuck, I wish my water was something much stronger. Starts with T and ends with equila. “I go darker these days. Prefer brown hair over black. Prefer black over blonde. Haven’t taken a ginger for a spin yet, so I can’t say for sure how I feel about that.”
“You’re actively trying to piss me off.” She adds preference: brunette to her notes. “If we’d never met before this, I’d almost buy your act, conclude that you’re a degenerate with no redeeming qualities, and give up on this project.”
“Mm. Degenerate is my favorite way to be. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
She crosses one long, sinful leg over the other, her knee coming up to brush the underside of my table.
Fuck her for growing up the way she did.
“Except, we didn’t just meet. I knew you before you decided that being a prick could be your entire personality.”
“People change. This is the new me, babe.”
“Almost believable,” she quips, but then something heavy crashes against the floor upstairs.
For just a moment, her eyes shoot to the ceiling and her smile pisses me off all over again.
Why universe? Whyyyy? Slowly, seductively, she brings that glorious stare back down and hits me right in the solar plexus.
“Except, your son is sweet as hell and reminds me of the boy I used to know. There’s no way he could be that way if you were consistently this…
” Dismissive, she rolls her hand in my direction.
“Tits and ass and I just wanna get laid bullshit.”
“I do just wanna get laid.”
“Mmm. I’m sure you do, but you can’t possibly know about that unless you’ve convinced a woman to spend more than a few minutes alone with you.
I assure you, no sensible, sane woman would take her top off for the prick you pretend to be.
For reasons I haven’t quite figured out yet, you’re saving all your degenerate behavior for me. ”
It’s because you’re here, Magnolia! It’s because you’re pretty and witty and won’t leave me the fuck alone!
“So you keep doing you.” She goes back to making notes in her folder. “I’ll continue doing me knowing that, eventually, you’ll tire of this role you’ve assigned yourself. When that time inevitably arrives, I’ll have a slew of dates lined up, and one of them will, of course, make you very happy.”
“Of course,” I drawl. “Because there’s no chance you might be wrong about this, right?”
“Exactly. I have a one hundred percent success rate.” She brings those smug, sinful eyes across to mine. “Have a good time with Dara last night?”
“Yup. We had a blast.” Not. I dropped her home and spent the morning airing the stench of vomit out of my car. “She’s real fun when she’s drinking.”
“Seemed a little too drunk for consent, but what do I know?” She lowers her gaze again, her long mahogany locks trickling forward to touch my table.
“It’s entirely possible you have an ongoing thing with her and consent was expressed long before alcohol joined the party.
” She adds Dara’s name to her list. “Will you consider a formal date with her? Or is she more of a panty chewing situation?”
No. And no. “Not everyone believes in true love, ya know? Not everyone wants to find it.”
“You’re saying that because you’re scared of being hurt. Your fear is valid.” She peeks up at me from beneath long lashes. “I’m not saying you’re wrong for feeling that way. But you’re one of the lucky ones, Billy; you already got a taste of love. You know how good it feels.”
“I’m one of the lucky ones?” I flick my bottle cap and send it bouncing around inside my sink, tinging off the side and settling in the bottom with a hum.
“You think I’m lucky, Magnolia?! I was married for five fucking minutes before my wife up and died.
I fell face first into parenthood and didn’t even have my luck there to help me through the sleepless nights.
I was so fucking tired, I forgot to eat for like, three days straight, and the instant I caught a full night’s rest, I got in my car, knocked on my best friend’s front door, and busted his face up so bad, he had to attend Aria’s funeral with a shiny black eye and a chipped tooth.
Oh! And I forgot my new baby at home for the first hour, because I was tired. ”
I tip my water up and chug the second half, gulping, gulping, gulping until liquid sloshes in my belly and the bottle crinkles under my firm grip.
Lowering it again, I pitch the whole damn thing toward the sink, but unlike the cap, the plastic is too light and lands six feet short.
“If you consider me one of the lucky ones, then I’d hate to know the folks you pity.
” I lean back against the counter, shielding the food drawer behind my broad frame, and fold my arms. “I doubt you’re in the business of finding me a good lay, Magnolia Sava, and I have no interest in falling in love.
Which means you and I have absolutely nothing else to discuss. ”
“I decided, Dad!” The shower stops upstairs, then the squeak of our towel rail proves my son won’t come racing down here buck-ass naked, at least. I can never be truly confident in this situation.
Jeremy’s footsteps thunder along the stairs, then his panicked squeak follows when, like he does every other day, he takes the landing too fast, skids on the hardwood floor, and risks a busted butt if he falls.
Charging into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around his body the way women do it, cinched around his chest, he glides to a stop and bashes his hip against the table so the whole structure jolts a full inch to the right and our precarious pile of clean laundry threatens to topple.
“I want Chinese for dinner!” He shoulder-checks me aside, whips the drawer open, and snatches out a menu.
“Dad said I could choose what to eat tonight, and I decided on Chinese. Cos I really like the rice.” He licks his lips. “Do you like Chinese rice too, Maggie?”
“I—”
“You’ll like it. I promise. It’s the best.” He snatches my phone from my back pocket and waltzes across to his little girlfriend, grinning and unlocking the device while he walks.
“We’re gonna order loads, and we always get lots of different things, cos sometimes I feel like having shrimp, but sometimes I feel like having chicken.
My dad doesn’t even mind, cos then he has leftovers for lunch every day till it’s all gone, so it’s not really wasting money.
” He taps the restaurant’s name and brings the device to his ear.
Stunned, Maggie’s eyes swing across to mine.
Yeah. My eight-year-old knows how to order takeout. So fuckin’ sue me.
“Hi! It’s Jeremy.”
Maggie closes her folder with a sigh—she’s finally giving up on me. Huzzah!—but then my son flips it open again.
She presses her hands to the table, preparing to stand, he sets his hand on her shoulder and pushes her down again.
“We want all the things, please. And we have a guest over for dinner too, so maybe you could send an extra fortune cookie this time?”
“Jeremy,” I groan. “No.”
“Yeah. And she loooooves prawn chips.” Leaning closer, he draws Maggie into his scheme.
“I love prawn chips, but they might send more since they know you’re here.
” He brings his attention back to the phone.
“No, ma’am. I didn’t say nothing except how we need extras tonight.
Uh-huh.” He bobs his head. “Uh-huh! My dad will pay you with cash.” He glances over his shoulder. “You got cash, Dad?”
Instead of answering, I pull a long breath in and crush my eyes closed.
“You might need to put it on his account,” Jeremy amends.
“He’s a bit grumpy right now, so he can’t talk.
But food always cheers him up.” He nods.
“Okay.” He nods again. “Okay.” And again.
“Okay!” Bringing the phone from his ear, he kills the call and glances down to watch Maggie add to her notes.
“Food cheers him up.” Cackling, Jeremy slams my phone onto the table and grabs her face in his palms. “Food does cheer him up! How come you’re writing things about my dad? ”
Go ahead, Magnolia. Tell my eight-year-old how you intend to replace his mother.
“Your dad is my friend.” She studies him through dancing eyes and cheeks squished in his hands.
“And I care about my friends being happy. So I’ve decided I’m going to learn every single thing I can about him, and then I’m gonna learn every single thing about other people too, and if I’m really lucky, I might find more friends for him to spend his time with.
” She reaches up and wraps her palms around his wrists.
“These people must like eight-year-old boys, especially. And basketballs. And…” She bounces her brows. “Spiderman underwear.”
Jeremy loses it, rolling all over the poor woman just trying to do her job. “Those aren’t his undies, silly!” He snatches a pair and shows them off proudly. “They’re mine!”
“Yours?” Fuck, her smile is so pretty. “Are you sure? I thought they belonged to your dad.”
“No wayyyyy! He just wears regular boxers.” And because he’s so fucking helpful, he digs his hand into the pile, sends the top half toppling to the floor, and emerges with a pair of silky black boxers.
“These ones!” He shamelessly shoves them in her face.
“See! He probably needs new ones soon, though, cos these are getting kinda old and holey.”
“Dude!” I stride across the kitchen and tear my underwear free of his little-fingered grip.
Scooping the entire pile of laundry into my arms, and grabbing the bits on the floor, I turn on my heels and stride into the living room to dump them with their unfolded compatriots.
“It’s not polite to show our underwear to strangers.
” Fury and humiliation wage a war for dominance in my blood, made worse as I stalk back into the kitchen and find the two of them staring up at me with twin blushes and quivering grins.
“I don’t need more friends, and I really like prawn chips too, which means there won’t be enough to share.
” I gesture toward the front of my house. “See you around, Magnolia.”
“Dad!” Jeremy gasps, dramatically pressing a hand to his chest for added effect.
“You’re rude!” Then he spins and pinches a lock of her hair between his fingers, playing with the length and running his fingertips along the mahogany strands.
“You can have my prawn chips if you want, Maggie. I really like them, so this is kind of a big deal.”
“Oh… well…” Her taunting eyes briefly flicker across to mine. “That’s an extremely generous offer, Jeremy. You’re a very kind little boy.”
“Thanks. My dad says it’s important that I use my manners and think of other people, too. If I was in your house, maybe you’d think of me and let me taste one of those donuts you was talking about yesterday.”
“Jeremy!”
“But since you’re in my house,” he lowers his voice and leans closer, “then it’s my turn to think of you.
Is that chair comfortable under your bum?
” He draws the lock of hair to his nose.
“Are you thirsty? I could get you water or something. Also, we were gonna watch a movie with our dinner, but you’re here now, which means you maybe get to choose the movie.
” Uncertain, he glances over his shoulder.
“Is that right, Dad? The guest gets to choose?”
Fuck. Me. Sideways.