14. 14
14
“You nailed it. I don’t know what you said or did this time, but Ms. Aguilar was thrilled,” Will said through the phone.
Barrett balled his free hand and pounded it into the air, whispering, “ Fuck yeah !”
“She said to tell you next time, ‘Freya wants Loki.’ I’m ordering a Loki knockoff costume right now.”
“You need my sizes again?”
“Nah, Ava keeps ’em all in a book. She’s so fuckin’ organized it makes my head spin sometimes.”
“Oh man, I’m so relieved she liked me. Am I off probation now?”
Will laughed. “We’ll see. I’m just glad it went well. She’s over the moon. Think you might have just gotten yourself your first regular. I’ll have outfits all ready for tomorrow, so just swing by the shop at seven and pick up the go-bags.”
“Ugh, seven?”
“Yeah, that means you’ll probably have to hit Swole at six. They’re open then, right?”
“Yeah, they’re a twenty-four-hour gym.”
“Good. In the morning, you’ve got an eight-thirty as Elvis Presley in Three Creek Ranch , and in the afternoon at two, you’re out in Shooting Star dressed as… a naval sailor.”
“Elvis? Like young Elvis, or, like, obese-toilet-Elvis?”
“Which one do you think, genius? Let’s use our brains.”
“Geez, wow. My boss is a dick.”
Will laughed hard on the other end.
“These costumes are lame. Why don’t these women ever pick any of the cool ones?”
“Barrett, I promise,” Will sighed, “you will get to wear the Jack Sparrow soon. I’ll… run a discount on that one or something. Five percent off the fee if they choose it.”
“Fuck, man, if Ava wasn’t marrying you, I’d step up to the plate myself and wed your ass.”
“We wouldn’t mesh well, Barrett.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m, like, a nine… and you’re a three.”
“Oh fuck off, I am not a three. Ask Aguilar! I am a God !”
“God of toe fungus.”
“Hey, Fuck-stick, I just had a pedicure recently.”
“You’re such a girl.”
“Speaking of, who do I turn in the receipt to? I can expense that, right? It’s a write-off.”
“Yeah, right. Ava’s gonna check with the tax accountant and see if your fuckin’ spa days are reimbursable,” Will teased.
“I’m picking up sarcasm, Mr. Jessup. Keep it up, and I’ll leave you. I’ll call our wedding off.”
“I wouldn’t marry you if you paid me, Barrett.”
Barrett groaned into the air and looked around his apartment. It looked like a bomb had gone off. “That pedi was fifty bucks!”
“ You’re a pedi!” Will giggled. “ Pedi- file .”
“I don’t know how you can possibly joke about these things. Y’know… after your uncle touched you in your no-no spot —”
“I don’t have an uncle!” Will laughed hard. “Fuck off, Barrett. Go to bed.”
Barrett tried to fight his smile. “Alright. Love you, brother.”
“See you tomorrow, Dingleberry.”
“Yeah.” Barrett ended the call and threw his phone onto the couch. His smile disappeared. Something about knowing his partner in crime was settling down with a wife and a family made him feel slightly nauseous.
Will was yet another casualty of suburban war, doomed to a life of cookie-cutter houses, H.O.A.s, man-caves, ‘perfect lawn-height’ discussions, and imported beers.
Commitment wasn’t what scared him. It was the unromantic contractual agreement where people gambled away half their assets that freaked Barrett out. His urge to keep the same woman around for a while was nonexistent, and the permanence of putting a ring on someone’s finger had simply never appealed to him.
He wondered if he would ever find himself in a relationship, one where he could be all-in. No rings. No engagements. Just loyalty and a ravenous desire to be with one another. He wanted one day to love hard , to love fierce . And when that woman was his, he’d be protective as hell.
Meowwwwwww.
The sound was muffled by the window, snapping him out of his moody thoughts. A charcoal British Shorthair cat sat, perched on the roof near the abutment, minty green eyes wide and helpless.
“Heyyyyy. How’s it goin’, Smoky?” Barrett asked happily. “I missed you, girl!”
Jogging over, he flicked open the latch on the dormer window and pushed it open. The cat sauntered in like she owned the place, long tail flicking from side to side.
Barrett closed the window behind her. “You’re just in time for dinner. You and I will be dining on these,” he shuffled over to the paper bag on his kitchen counter, “ exquisite cans of dolphin-safe tuna. You’ll love it.”
He briefly held the tips of his fingers to his lips and pulled them away in a chef’s kiss.
Piercing the first can, he heard Smoky let out a pitiful meow .
“You know what to do.” He pointed to the tiny dining room table. “The place may be a shithole, but we are still civilized beings who eat at the table, you and I.”
Smoky wandered to the table and leaped up on it gracefully. Moments later, Barrett dropped an opened can in front of the cat, and the animal lapped at it greedily, scarfing down the meat like she hadn’t eaten in days. Barrett sat in the opposite chair and ate out of his own can with a fork.
Despite Smoky -- a name he’d given her because she looked like she’d just survived a house fire -- being feral, he’d still worried about her safety during the five-day absence.
Once she’d finished, Smoky leaped off the oak, whipping several unopened bills and month-old junk mail off the side. Something metallic tinked on the floor.
Barrett reached over to pick up the strewn mail and saw Chastity’s earring there on the wood. He picked it up and shook it, heart wiggling freely inside the rib cage and making him smile.
He remembered how she’d flashed him fresh out of the shower right around the corner from ten ultra-conservative strangers.
She was a wild one.
He wanted more than anything to be with her again. Tasting her. Feeling her. Holding her.
He plunked down on the couch and shook the earring again, like some sad prince with only his soulmate’s glass slipper as a memento.
But unlike that prince, Barrett had already found his Cinderella. She was living at home with her preacher father and frustrated mother.
Not here…
In his bed. In his arms .
He rolled his eyes, irritated with himself for the sudden hopelessly romantic thoughts. Still, the urge to see her again plucked at his gut.
He wasn’t certain where he’d gone wrong, what he’d done to warrant a phony number, what he’d said to make her so aloof at Maggie’s when he said he wanted to see her again.
That night that he’d brought her to his home, the look in her eyes was intense, filled with desire, with want .
So… what had changed?
Where did he go wrong?
Were there red flags that scared her off? Another woman’s balled-up panties among the piles, perhaps? Aside from a filthy apartment, he couldn’t see any other items that warranted such a cold brush-off.
Smoky climbed up into Barrett’s lap and curled into a ball. He stroked her head softly, and within a minute or two, she was purring. He thought it best to put his thoughts of Aphrodite… of Chastity … aside for the night.
After all, looking down at Smoky, tired from her adventures out in the world, he could appreciate that some things were best left wild and untamed.