Chapter 2
Garcia
I like tequila.
I like it even more when my best – and oldest – friend comes over for dinner and rudely rubs his unconventional – yet seemingly perfect – family in my face.
Fuck, I’m pretty sure the only thing that even pairs well with chiles rellenos and contempt is tequila.
Lager’s too refreshing and bourbon’s too bitter.
Or does it become too bitter because what’s coming out of me?
For the record…smiling as much as they do should be a criminal offense.
Punishment should have something to do with toothbrushes.
“We would love to watch him for the entire weekend,” my mom, Eva Garcia, coos at her honorary grandson, my honorary nephew, Diesel Nolan – D – whose highchair is wedged in the corner space between her and my father.
“You three need a weekend away.” Her slender finger playfully pokes the baby’s long nose.
“Nursing your new marriage is just as important as nursing your new little paquete de alegría.”
The little guy really is a bundle of joy.
Because of course he is.
Because Miles Nolan – though I’ve called him Ace since we were practically kids – has fucking everything.
His own successful towing and garage company.
A healthy relationship with his younger partners Bunny Abernathy Nolan – an accountant – and Kipp Woods Nolan – his business partner.
And now a brand-new son who has his nose along with his big ass forehead, yet Kipp’s bright blue eyes and black curly hair and Bunny’s beautiful brown skin.
The only thing the man could possibly want for is parental approval that he swears he doesn’t need but clearly has in mine, considering they practically raised him alongside me and my sister, Val, who is currently not helping the situation either with her promise to finally bring over the man she hooked up with at their wedding – that we all helped host – a few months back.
I’m the only one at this table not in a committed relationship.
That shit is as clear as my practically empty tequila glass.
“I agree,” Demián Garcia, my father, warmly reiterates, honey, pecan skinned face leaning over to also coo at D, inspiring the baby to instantly paw at his dark goatee. “Like a good meal, a good marriage is about balance.”
“You two should take notes,” Mom cheekily insists to me and Val. “That way we won’t have to repeat these life lessons later on.”
“Sí, because we all know how much you just hateeeee doing that,” my sister goads in return before leaning over to share a girlish giggle with Bunny.
It’s good that they’re friends.
That my sister finally has someone for her like I have Ace.
Although, I doubt her new boyfriend, Braxton November, gets his boxers up his ass every time they hang out alone unlike Woods does when it comes to Ace and I.
The young guy swears I harbor some sort of unspoken, unresolved feelings for his husband.
He can’t see how I could not.
How anyone could not.
And he can’t see that because of how in love with the man he is.
Poor kid is basically one good sac tug away from getting “Property of Nolan Forever” tattooed on his neck.
Or ass.
Or hell, both.
Honestly?
Yeah.
I’m a little jealous.
Not because I want either of them – not even a probable cause amount – but because they get to have each other.
They ultimately didn’t let their age differences divide them.
Or societal restraints destroy them.
Or depravity laws – many of which are outdated, might I add – ruin them.
The essence of them.
However, please, let the record show that shit’s easier for them.
They don’t have partners at their firm like Cian McDermott who I already know wouldn’t bother hiding his hypocritical disgust. And it would be hypocritical considering the fact he’s sleeping with our significantly younger – yet totally legal – office assistant.
And they don’t have clients like Elanor Bogosian who would immediately stop being their client, and stop recommending them clients, and stop inviting them to places where they can get more wealthy clients once the aforementioned Mayor of Prudeville got any inkling about the less traditional choices they make in their personal life.
I do.
I have all that shit.
You can find it in the rider of the invisible contract you sign when becoming a high-price, high power attorney.
Cheers.
All of a sudden, the doorbell rings pulling everyone’s attention in that direction, prompting me and Val to declare in tandem, “I’ll get it!”
“Wow,” Dad mirthfully chuckles while reaching for his own tequila glass.
“Where was this servico when you were ninos pequenos?” He quirks a dark eyebrow as my sister beats me to retreating.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re both desperate for any excuse to leave this dinner conversation. ”
“I’d put money on that,” Ace chortles beside me, broader frame reclining.
“Put me in for a pink slip,” echoes Woods from his other side, creamy vanilla shaded finger finding its way into the air.
“And the fate of my future Fiat,” Bunny cheekily adds, caramel mocha-colored frame summoning her husbands’ glares again.
“No Fiat,” they huff in unison.
“What’s that old saying?” taunts the long-legged female on a bite of her meal. “Happy Wife, Happy Life?”
“How about that old slogan, ‘Silly Rabbit, Tricks are for Kids’?” pokes my best friend.
“Kid loves my tricks,” she saucily winks causing their younger partner to blush and smirk.
See.
This is exactly why I should’ve answered the door.
I don’t have enough tequila in my glass to keep choking down their flirting, but can’t just pour myself a fourth refill without a valid excuse to get up for something else.
Mom’s counting.
I know she is.
I can see it in her eyes.
One more glass, and a mental health exam will begin because that’s what happens when you’re the only lawyer in a family of doctors.
“Isn’t it Trix?” I cheekily chime while combing my fingers through my salt and pepper beard. “Like with an X.”
“The things Rabbit does are definitely X rated,” Ace juvenilely jokes.
“How do you think we got D?” inserts Woods.
“I know how I get D,” their wife announces between bites.
“I know how to get D too,” Mom suggestively winks only to receive a deep, disapproving groan from me.
Forfuckssake.
How is it my parents have a more fulfilling sex life than I do?
“Zero!!!” excitedly exclaims Val, warranting the collective group’s gaze once more. “We weren’t expecting you to join us for dinner!”
Um…I wasn’t expecting him at all.
In fact, nowadays, I can’t even expect him when I used to be able to expect him for poker at my place.
We aren’t exactly on the best of terms.
Which is probably my fault.
Like an easy case for the prosecution to prove level of my fault.
I mean coke in my hand, on my nose and the hooker’s bare ass level of easy to indite.
“Familia!” he lively greets in return without stepping foot across the threshold. “Always so Gram ready.”
“Is that a compliment?” Mom curiously croaks. “It feels like a compliment.”
“It is,” Woods swiftly reassures on a head nod. “He’s basically saying you always look good, which you do.”
Ignoring her grin growing is impossible. “You boys are too sweet.”
“But could use a lección básica de inglés, no?” haughtily teases Dad.
Basic English for those in their 20s – Woods and Zero – is a bit different than those of us in our 40s – me and Ace – or beyond – my parents.
“Come in, come in!” Mom enthusiastically insists. “We’ve got plenty of food!”
“I-”
“And I used Hatch for the rellenos!”
“I-”
“I know those are your favorite! Vic mentions it every time we have them!”
“Mom,” escapes in a scolding hiss.
“Es la verdad,” mumbles my father.
“Thanks for the invitation,” the younger, brown-eyed hacker coos, smile so irresistibly delicious my shaft can barely be stopped from stirring, “I abz appreesh. I really do-”
“Then come in!” insists the man I get most of my looks from alongside an enthusiastic hand wave. “Come in!”
“I kind of need to chat with Garcia alone for a hot min,” Zero politely announces. At that, he connects his glare to mine. “Characters, my guy?”
“Characters?” Dad confusedly grumbles. “?Qué significa eso?”
“Tech speak for wanting a word,” I clarify and prepare to rise to my feet.
“Again,” the man of the house grunts. “What’s wrong with basic English?”
“Says the man who asked what it meant in Spanish,” my sister snipes back with a snarky smirk encouraging the group to snicker at their antics.
Hesitation to toss back the little that’s left in my glass and hastily dismiss myself from the table is non-existent.
Despite the unfortunate climate we’ve managed to find ourselves in over the past few months, he still means everything to me.
He always has.
He always will.
That’ll never change even as our friendship does.
From the first time he asked me for a Cheeze-It, I knew in my soul that he belonged in my life.
To me.
With me.
Mygod, I can’t tell if I need more or less tequila to prevent myself from saying that shit out loud.
Once outside, I shut the door and good naturedly poke, “How’d you know where to find me?”
The slender yet fit younger male’s shoulders bounce prior to him hiding his hands in his pockets. “I always know where to find you.”
“Must be nice.”
“It is ‘til I realize you’re probably balls deep in someone who isn’t me.”
Surprise has my jaw cracking on its own volition.
Fuck, he says that shit like that’s not where I wanna be.
Like it’s not him I want gagging on my dick while someone else rides his.
On the record?
On the – will the prosecution please read back the court reporters notes record – I want what Ace, Bunny, and Woods have.
I want us to have what they have.
I want us to have someone we share.
I know we’re both into men and women and the notion of getting to have it all in one relationship.
That shit would work for us if I let it.
And it’s me that’s the problem.
I know that.
I don’t need a jury of twelve strangers to tell me that.
It’s just…complicated.
It’s not a cut and dry decision.
It never has been.