Chapter 8
Ace
My mom sits spread-eagled in sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt, a bag of peas at the apex of her thighs and a sleep mask with cartoon bug eyes strapped on her head. She lies back, groaning lightly, and I sneak on light feet through the hall at the back of the couch to try to avoid conversation.
She pops up quickly, resting herself on one elbow and pulling the mask up off her eyes, and I freeze, a cramp in my toes forming immediately.
“Where are you going?” she asks, accusation making the words lash.
“I…uh…out?”
“Nope. Nuh-uh. We need all hands on deck cleaning this place up, and I’m, as you can see, vaginally indisposed.”
“Ugh, Mom.” I groan. I’m still tired, drained, and fucking bleeding from the eyes and ears over the things I saw last night—over the things that were still happening up until three short hours ago when my dad and Finn finally managed to kick the last group of lingering people out of here.
I don’t need my mom saying the word “vaginally” any time of day, but of all the times of day I don’t need it, this is the pinnacle.
“Don’t ugh, Mom me. You’re on Solo cup duty until I can get my feet back under me. Your father is vacuuming.” She adjusts her position on the couch and nods down the hall, where the faint hum of the vacuum moves slowly closer.
“Vacuuming? Does Thatch even know how to vacuum?” I can hardly picture my big, meaty-handed father operating such a short domestic device with any skill, let alone to the tune of 12,000 square feet of living space.
“Please, Ace.” My mother sighs. “Ask something that makes sense. Of course he knows how to vacuum. As a matter of fact, suction is one of his specialties.”
“Oh-kay. Jeez. Really?” I cry. “Must you?” I know I left myself open by interacting at all, but you’d think the universe, having seen Julia hand in hand with Colonel Frat Mustard for so many hours last night while Finn and Scottie did an excellent job of reminding me exactly the kind of loving relationship I’m missing at the same time, would cut me a break.
I’m a walking wound. My pus is festering among the mess and infecting my whole life.
She laughs, unbothered. That’s one thing about my mom—she’s never bothered. It doesn’t matter if I’m on the brink of the most formidable moment of my manhood. That’s a me problem.
An overwhelming hum enters the room briskly, my tall-ass father behind it with big black headphones on. He shoves and wields the vacuum wildly, ramming it into furniture and concentrating more on dancing with high knees than what he’s sucking up.
The machine grinds and bogs down as it picks up something bigger than its hose can handle, but he’s undeterred, pushing onward toward us while he swings his hips back and forth.
One thing I know for sure: our housekeeper is going to be so pissed when she comes in to a broken vacuum and scuffed-up baseboards.
His gaze flickers up and locks on my mom and her ice-pack-covered hoochie, and he switches off the vacuum immediately, removing his headphones and tossing them among the other debris on the coffee table.
“What are we doing here?” He grins. “Cooking up my favorite meal?”
“Oh God,” I groan, and my mom laughs riotously.
“You wish. I’m sore from last night.”
“Sore? Did we fuck and I forgot about it? Pulled a you and fell asleep while my dick was still in ya?”
She shakes her head, and I don’t bother asking. In fact, I avoid asking so hard the job is practically a paid position.
“No, you big oaf. I pulled my groin trying to outdo your keg stand.”
“Ahh.” He nods proudly. “Yeah, your first mistake was trying to outdo me, sweetheart. You know that’s impossible.”
“Shut up. I don’t have the patience to argue with you and ice my vageen, okay?”
My dad shrugs, latching on to my shoulder instead just as I’m about to escape. “What about you, son? Pretty big to-do last night. Did you have a good time?”
“Hardly,” I grumble under my breath before I can think better of it.
The whole thing was a fucking debacle and a half, and I’m the reason it even happened in the first place.
Not only did I not make any progress with Julia, I earned myself fucking cleanup duty this morning while Gunnar is God knows where doing God knows what.
And yet, even not knowing where he is, I know my fate from his revenge lingers in the distance like a sniper in the mist.
I’m scared. And shaken. And this is only the beginning.
“What? You didn’t have a good time?” My dad shakes his head. “Julia looked like she had a good time with that Chad guy.”
“Chad?” my mom asks, popping up from her forlorn spot and entering the conversation again. “Who’s Chad? I thought his name was Brad.”
“Chad, Brad, whatever.” Thatch just shrugs a shoulder. “He seemed like a cool dude.”
“Who?” I ask, only half cognizant of the conversation. I’m too busy picturing Finn and Scottie chumming it up on double date-ish terms while they chatted with Julia and whatshisface. And to think I’ve spent the last year considering Finnley Hayes my bestie. My brother from another mother.
He’ll be hearing of my feelings on his betrayal. That’s for sure.
“The guy Julia was with,” my mom clarifies helpfully, snapping me both into awareness and an All-American rage.
“Fuck that guy,” I say simply.
“Whoa, bud. I don’t know if we can condone this language,” my dad jokes, and I roll my eyes.
“His name isn’t Chad or Brad. And he’s not fucking cool. Not even a little bit.”
“Oh jeez, sorry, Mr. Name Police. Did I strike a nerve or what?” my dad asks, glancing over his shoulder at my mom conspiratorially.
I shake my head and move away to start collecting Solo cups while they continue to bicker back and forth.
“Go easy on him, you fuck,” my mom chastises. “Remember how pathetic you were when you were in love with me?”
“Pathetic?” my dad scoffs. “I was not pathetic. And what does love have to do with Chad?”
“Please!” my mom volleys back. “You were the most pathetic! You practically begged me to live with you. Sent me flowers all the time. Kept sleeping with me even though I continually fell asleep on you. You were desperate. Hard up.”
“Uh-uh, honey.” He waggles his finger at my mom. “I think your memory is taking creative liberties, because the way I remember it, you were the one doing the begging. You moved in with me without invitation, sent yourself flowers from my dick, and got me a pig so you could baby-trap me.”
Philmore oinks with perfect timing, cruising through the room on the way to his playroom down the hall.
I sigh and pick up more cups, my mind whirling on a new plan for setting Julia’s love train back on the right tracks—the ones that lead to me.
Most people would say I need to tell her how I feel, but I know with every ounce of my being she is not ready for this kind of intimate knowledge.
And I can’t ruin our friendship. Before I realized I was in love with her, I could barely stand to spend a day without her.
Now that I’m privy to my heart’s one and only true desire, I’d put Julia in my pocket and carry her around all day if I could.
Which, frankly, would be incredibly helpful when it comes to keeping her away from Dicky Drewlface.
You’re an idiot. Julia is petite, but she’s not Tinker Bell.
Against my better judgment, I turn back to my parents, reengaging them in conversation. “When you guys were dating, what changed your mind from just fucking around to it being the real deal? I mean, why do you love each other?”
My mom flashes a look to my dad, moving the peas on her vagina enough to sit up straight. “Well, son, your father, despite his many, many idiosyncrasies, is a capable man. He’s a good lover, a good heart, and a really good sportsman.”
“Sports—” I shake my head at myself and cut the question short. “You know what, never mind. I don’t wanna know.” I sigh. “I just thought…you guys seem happy and…” I huff as my mom’s eyes get wide. “Forget it.”
“What’s on your mind, Acer?” Thatcher insists, waving a hand at my mom to keep her quiet. “Having trouble with the ladies?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Dad.”
“I’m sorry, buddy, but I can’t do that,” he says earnestly.
And I thaw a little, wondering if my initial idea to bring my parents into the problem/solution brainstorm wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe they can help—
“I have to worry about it because your erectile dysfunction could sully the Kelly name.”
“Dad!” I shout, all my good feelings officially gone and beaten by a dead horse I should’ve known they’d kill. “I’m not suffering from ED!”
“Well!” he shouts back, shrugging at my mom with a playful wince.
“Forget it.” I hold up a desperate hand. “Just go back to your icing vaginas and shitty vacuuming and forget I said anything.”
“Come on, now, Acer.” My dad sits down on the couch beside my mom and pats the cushion next to him, and stupidly, I take him up on the offer. “Let’s have a real talk about what’s going on.”
I shake my head. I’m not ready to have a real talk. To confess my love for Julia or beg for help or ask them how I could have ignored it for so long. So I just sit there instead, soaking in the silence. For the first time maybe ever, they soak it in too.
“Maybe you should talk to Julia,” my mom suggests lightly, but her eyes are far too knowing. “If you’re not ready to talk to us.”
I snort. “Yeah, Julia is the last person I’m ready to talk to about this.”
“I knew it!” my dad yells, snapping his fingers and playfully shoving my mom before pretending to motorboat her boobs.
My head falls back on a grimace.
“You love her, don’t you?” My dad claps with glee.
“You love a little Brooks girl, and I’m going to get to rub this in Kline’s big dick and face for the rest of our lives, aren’t I?
Tell me, son. Tell me you’re going to marry her, and Kline is going to have to officially call us family. Make your daddy’s day.”
I hate that he knows. But according to Blake, everyone but me knew for a long fucking time.
“Everything feels so fucked.” I let out a deep sigh. “Honestly, I don’t know how I didn’t realize it sooner.”
Thatch jumps up from his seat and thrusts his arms in the air, spinning in a circle. “Yes! Fuck yes! All my dreams are coming true! My manifestation journal is working!”
My mom laughs. “Great. You’ve done it now. Now we’ll never get rid of that fucking journal.”
“I am wealthy. I am worthy. I am horny.” He flashes my mom with a wink. “Can you help me with any of those, honey?”
“I’m currently indisposed, Thatcher,” she retorts. “And frankly, the fact that it took you this long to figure out your son is in love with Julia makes me wonder if I married below my IQ level,” my mom adds on a sigh. “Ace has been in love with Julia since before he could even write his name.”
Apparently, Blake was right.
“I knew,” my dad refutes. “Of course I knew.” He moves his eyes back to me. “On a side note, Acer, it was wild how long it took you to figure out how to write your name. I mean, it’s three fucking letters, you know? Your mother and I were worried there for a bit.”
“Jeez. Thanks for that. You’re really helping boost the confidence.” I groan, but I also laugh. For as wild as my parents both are, I’m still thankful they’re my parents. “Just forget I said anything, guys.”
“No, no. Now, Ace of Base. There’s no need to be insecure. You can spell your name and even tell time now and shit. We didn’t think you’d make it past second grade, and you’re in college, buddy! You’re doing the damn thing!” He pumps a celebratory fist in the air.
“Wow,” I deadpan. “Thanks.”
“Though,” he adds with a shrug, “you clearly have some work to do if you don’t want Chad edging in on your tail.”
“I’m going to tell Kline you called his daughter tail,” my mom mutters, which makes my dad pinch her nipple and rip the bag of peas from her vageen.
Never mind, I take it back. I regret that these two are supposed to be my guides in life.
“Acer, what you need to do is prove to Julia that you’re more than the man she knows,” my dad continues trying to give me advice. “You’re more than the funny, plucky friend. You are a strong force of safety and love, do you hear me?”
I roll my eyes and climb from the couch to start collecting cups again. Suddenly, that sounds like the better option.
“You are a wildflower, just waiting to sow your seed!” my dad shouts, well after I’m out of sight. “Be the wind, son! The wind beneath her wings!”
“Dad! Just let it go!” I call back. “Seriously. And do not try to intervene! I will handle this myself!”
You’d think I wouldn’t need to say that, but this is Thatch and Cassie we’re talking about. If I left them to their own devices, they’d end up outside Julia’s window serenading her with fucking Air Supply songs on behalf of me.
“You can do it, Acer! You’re a Kelly, son! And Kelly men have a long-standing track record of proving they’re worthy of only the best women!”
I roll my eyes. Though, for all the bullshit he’s spouting, some of it is producing a by-product of sense.
Maybe…maybe he’s onto something.
Maybe I just need to prove that I’m love-worthy to Julia.
And how in the hell do I do that? By showing her how great I can be. By proving to her that I’m the man she needs. Then when I finally tell her I love her, there’ll be no chance she’ll reject me.
If I’m the perfect guy, she’ll have no option but to love me back.
I start by texting her dad some very important information. In with him, in with her. The Brooks family is a package deal, and I’m shipping myself overnight, next day air if I have to so I can be part of it too.
And then, I take to Google, searching up, What do women love in a man?
Instantly, I’m given a lengthy list, with things like responsible, protective, trustworthy, makes her feel safe, handsome, kindness, good sense of humor, self-aware, authenticity, good hygiene and grooming, emotional intelligence, stability, supportive, good communication skills, shows vulnerability, and verbalizes his thoughts and feelings.
I pull up my notes app and start adding key things to the list that I know I need to prove to her.
Clearly, shit like good sense of humor and handsome are already done, but I can be a better communicator. I can be more responsible. I can be more protective. I can be more self-aware.
I can be a lot more things. I’m going to be a lot more things.
For Julia.
Ace’s Plan to Woo Julia is officially in session.