Chapter 10 – Rule #6 There’s no such thing as brain bleach. Never, ever look callers up on social media. #3
“Stop right there, Kait. Do not say another word,” Saoirse practically yells. “Henry, your girl has lost her damn mind. You’re going to have to rethink this thing with her if this continues.”
“Dear god, Kait, you can never say anything like that again. Ever,” Henry says over Saoirse. “Not even in jest.”
He harrumphs when I chuckle. “He’ll take his shirt off at dinner, again,” Henry mumbles. “He’ll do his Times Square in his underwear pose.”
“She said the Deck Sterling, the. Like he’s the official one.
” Saoirse sounds a little distressed, but amused too.
Saoirse continues yammering with Henry talking over her, Saoirse interrupting and both of them getting louder.
They finish each other’s sentences. Poor Declan.
Having these two gang up on him can’t be fun.
“She doesn’t understand, Henry. She’s judging us. I can hear it. Kait, we swore a blood oath to always pretend it’s Declan who’s the least attractive, no matter what. So we refer to Henry as second ugliest if Deck’s around. You’ll have to get on board.”
“A blood oath, huh?” I laugh out loud; I can’t help it. Ridiculous.
Saoirse pipes up again. “No real blood was exchanged, but Mom put X’s on our palms with lipstick, and we shook on it.”
“That’s hilarious,” I say with a chuckle. “So he was obnoxious when you were kids?”
“Kait,” Saoirse deadpans. “That was last Christmas. I brought a guy I was dating, and Declan told him the privilege of meeting the Deck Sterling was his Christmas present.”
It takes me a second, but then I’m laughing so hard I’m wiping my eyes.
“During COVID,” Henry says with irritation in his voice. “He said he’d been wearing a mask, and wasn’t that a real loss for people everywhere?”
“Hold on, did you say the blood oath was your mom’s idea?” This has the feel of a tall tale.
“Yep,” Saoirse says. “My mom is a treasure, and her tolerance for her herd of idiot sons is extraordinary, but we only had one functioning bathroom at the time—renovations—and Declan was in there doing his ‘physician-prescribed skin regimen’ when we were getting ready for the annual Christmas photo. Nine of us, plus Julian and some idiot Schuyler brought home. One bathroom. Un-fucking-acceptable.”
Saoirse groans. “Henry! Seriously, do not choose things for yourself—put that back. I swear you’re going to get fired for wearing a jockstrap to work because I will burn your clothing before I let you wear that.
” She lets out a great heaving sigh. “Kait, all joking aside, Henry is my sweetest, kindest brother, but I cannot tell a lie, he’s my least attractive brother…
but my friends see him, and they make comments. Nauseating comments.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“I’m glad my pain amuses you,” she says. “We’re going to get along fine when you’re my sister-in-law.”
Elation runs through me at her words, wild and joyful, before reality kicks me in the teeth. He’s not mine. He’ll never be mine. He’s a caller.
“Henry’s a good man,” she says, her tone suddenly serious. “The best kind, but he chooses women who aren’t. I’ve never figured out why.”
“He sees the best in people.” I say it quietly, deadly serious. He ignores the fact that I’m a sex worker. “He’s an idealist.”
“He thinks you’re pretty fabulous. Whatever you’re doing, I hope you keep it up.
He’s overdue. And a little FYI, his eyes are the color of lime-green peridots in sunlight with hints of blue, and they are incredible.
” There’s a rustle of fabric and hangers when she pauses.
“Ugly is relative to Deck, who gets panties in the mail from fans.”
She sighs, then grumbles under her breath at Henry before speaking.
“The navy wool Dior military-inspired overcoat screams ‘I merge and acquire like a fucking beast.’ The French cuffs are a win. Do you have acceptable cufflinks? Are you capable of determining if a cufflink is acceptable? Mom gave them to you? That’s fine, she has taste, unlike the rest of you.
That black shirt is a hard no unless you’re becoming a mob lawyer. ”
“Help me, Kait.” Henry’s fake sad voice would be heartbreaking if I believed a thing he’s saying. “You’ve done nothing to save me. Nothing.”
Saoirse interrupts. “I didn’t pick out these barrel cuffs. Hideous. Stop choosing for yourself.”
Feeling inspired and a little wicked, I say, “Hey, Saoirse? What are Henry’s middle names?”
“Oh, it’s Henry—”
“Saoirse! If you want our day to end right now, finish that sentence,” Henry grumbles. It’s close enough to a growl that I resist the urge to say out loud how incredibly hot it is.
“Call you later?” he says to me, softer and sweet. A long zipper pull punctuates his words. “ShaSha, this hoodie is fantastic. What if I promise not to wear it to work?” If Henry has a lying voice, this is surely it.
“Bye, Saoirse, it was lovely talking to you.”
“Let’s hang out soon, Kait.” Saoirse’s words are a knife in my heart. “Henry, no sweatpants, even if they’re Calvin Klein. We’ve only got two hours until we need to be at the salon, chop-chop!”
“Salon?” Henry asks as the call disconnects.