Chapter 31
Rowan Rafferty gets another offer he can’t refuse
Kendra
I need a favor.
Me
What kind?
Kendra
A big one.
Me
That’s what she said.
Kendra
Funny.
But. No time for comedy.
Jesse keeps texting True during the bachelorette party. He’s ruining it.
Me
And you want me to keep him busy?
Kendra
Pretty please.
Me
What do I get out of this?
Kendra
Best blowjob in the world?
I nearly dropped the phone into the Gulf of Mexico.
Me
Don’t make promises you can’t keep.
Kendra
*Gif of Michael from The Office screaming, “It’s Happening!”*
Me
You know I’d do it anyway.
Kendra
So, you don’t want the world’s best blowjob?
Me
Let’s not be hasty.
That is how I found myself knocking on the door of Demeter House’s long-term rental apartment, waiting for the wanker to open up.
When he did open the door, he wore gray sweatpants, a dirty T-shirt stained with ketchup, and was holding a beer. “What’s up, my guy?”
I pushed past him into the pigsty that was his place. “Don’t call me that. What the hell happened in here?”
Mounds of dirty clothes were haphazardly piled throughout the central area. The two-seater dining table was covered with empty pizza boxes, a plate of congealed food, and a glass of something unrecognizable. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink, and the place smelled like burnt plastic.
“What happened? Did you burn something?” I asked.
Jesse sniffed the air and shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. “I might have put the wrong thing in the oven.”
I looked at the oven; sure enough, smoke poured out the door. “And you didn’t turn it off or take it out?”
“It’s hot!” Jesse complained.
“For shit’s sake, you child,” I grumbled and pushed past him to flick off the oven and open the door. Black smoke rolled out of the cavern. “Don’t just stand there, you wanker, open the bloody windows!”
Jesse put his beer on top of an empty pizza box, which promptly toppled to the ground, spewing golden liquid all over everything in sight. He watched the mess, shrugged again, then sauntered to the windows and pulled them open.
“I don’t know why you’re mad at me!” Jesse said. “I didn’t make the oven.”
I pulled a T-shirt from a pile of clothing and waved it in front of the oven, pushing the smoke toward the window. “Why didn’t the smoke detectors go off?”
“Oh, they did,” Jesse said and pointed toward the ceiling, where the mangled remnants of a smoke detector hung by a wire. “I turned them off.”
“What is wrong with you?”
“Why are you biting my head off?”
“Look around! How can you live like this? And how do you expect your fiancée and soon-to-be wife to live like this?” I waved around the room and kicked a pile of clothes.
“You’re one pile away from being on a television intervention show.
” I returned to the kitchen, grabbed two wooden spoons of questionable cleanliness, and pulled out the charred remnants of a to-go box from the oven.
“Did you put a styrofoam container in the oven?”
“How else was I supposed to heat the chicken?”
“That’s it.” I dropped the spoons on the kitchen pile. “This changes right fucking now.”
“What does?”
“You’re going to learn to clean up after yourself,” I said.
Jesse crossed his arms. “Who’s going to make me?”
“Are you shitting me with this attitude right now? I’ll make you, you fucking wanker. Now, where do you keep the cleaning supplies?”