Chapter 33 – Remington
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I’m not doing a damn circle jerk. I don’t care if he is my brother
Remington
The marketing meeting went extremely well. Hale Cosmetics is running Super Bowl ads for both the women’s and men’s championship games. The WNFL commercials will feature the women who are mothers, showing their strength on the field and their maternal sides off it.
Phoenix and Jordie have decided to let Reece be in one of the commercials with Jordie.
They value their privacy, so I know it was a hard decision for them, but they’re both public figures, and it’s not like the media is unaware that my niece exists.
Photos pop up all the time on the internet when they’re out in public with Reece.
The men’s ads will focus on the players with older kids, showing the dads helping their daughters get ready for school dances and dates. There was one hilarious clip where an offensive lineman for the Wranglers was trying to put lipstick on his daughter and failing spectacularly.
My assistant meets me with a smile and a chirpy, “Hello, Your Highness. I hope your meeting went well.”
“It was really good actually,” I tell her, fighting a smile. “Were you able to get me a new phone?”
“Right here,” she says, handing it over. “I even got you an OtterBox case.”
“That was very thoughtful of you,” I say sincerely, taking the new device and heading toward my office before something stops me. I swivel back. “Ms. Espinoza, I don’t think I ever gave you my cell number.”
“Oh, okay. I guess that would be a good idea.” She picks up her own phone and scrolls to her contacts. Her forehead wrinkles into a frown. “Wait. Remi.”
“Yes?” I ask, surprised because she always calls me Mr. Hale. Or Your Grace. Or His Royal Grumpiness. I kind of liked that one, to be honest.
“No, I mean there’s a Remi in my phone already.
I saw it once but I’d forgotten all about it.
Is this your number?” She turns it around, and I’m assailed by the memories.
My eyes on her naked backside as she went into the bathroom.
The thick scent of sex and magnolia blossoms in the air.
The feeling of contentment and peace I got from being with her.
I clear my throat and my mind. “Yes. I put it in there… that night. When you went to the bathroom. I’d planned to tell you my real name and everything about me the next morning over breakfast.” Stroking a hand over my beard, I can feel the heat in my cheeks.
“Your phone was unlocked, and I just decided I wanted my name in your contacts. I can’t explain why, really. ”
Her gaze is fixed on her phone, and I can see a faint blush rising up her neck. “So I had your contact info this whole time?”
When her eyes flick up to mine, there are so many questions behind the hazel irises. But there’s something else there too. A kind of resigned acceptance, I think.
“The whole time,” I confirm.
“So you really did want—” She cuts herself off with a shake of her head, sending waves of red hair swirling around her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter now.”
I’m about to contradict her when the phone on her desk rings and startles both of us out of the little bubble that had started forming around us. The same kind of bubble that I’d felt that night seven years ago.
I feel my phone buzz with a text message, so I shake off the remnants of Joe and Minnie and go into my office. Sitting behind my desk, I see a message from Serena.
Serena: What are you doing tonight?
I tap out a response and hit send.
Me: I should finish up here about seven and then I’m headed home.
Her reply comes swiftly.
Serena: You’re disgusting.
I rear my head back in surprise. What the hell is she talking about? My gaze shifts back up to the text I’d sent, and my eyes widen. Because that is not what I typed.
Me: I should finish up here about seven and then I’m headed to the titty bar.
I quickly tap out a response.
Me: Not sure what happened. I didn’t mean to say titty bar. I thought I typed home. Weird.
But as soon as I hit send, the words on my screen change.
Me: Not sure what happened. I didn’t mean to say titty bar. I thought I typed to the titty bar. Weird.
Serena: Are you on drugs?
Me: No! I got a new phone and it’s being weird. I am going to my apartment after work.
Tapping send, I’m relieved when the message stays as it is.
Serena: Okaaaay. I’ll come over and bring takeout, but I’m not going topless, you freak.
Me: Thank god.
Sighing, I set my phone aside and for the next hour, I tackle some emails I’ve been avoiding.
My cell pings with a text message, and I slide it over to check it, seeing it’s from Auburn Bouvier.
Auburn is the CEO of the Bouvier fashion empire in New York, though they have a large store in Houston where I order all my suits.
Custom-made to fit my tall frame, of course.
The quality of their clothing is second to none.
Auburn: I hear we’re playing together in Florida for the pro-am.
Me: Hell yes. I’m thrilled to get to play with Chandler.
Auburn: And me of course.
Me: Of course.
I push my phone aside and answer another email on my laptop when I hear my text notification again. It’s another message from Bouvier.
Auburn: Hey, no judgment here, bro, but I have a question. Who wears the polka dot panties. You or Margarita?
What the fuck is he talking about? I move my gaze upward to the last message I sent, but instead of saying “Of course,” my screen says something different. Very different.
Me: I like to dance the lambada with my blow up doll, Margarita, while wearing pink polka dot panties.
I press my thumb and middle finger into my eye sockets and rub, but when I look at my phone again, the ridiculous words are still there.
Carefully, I type another message.
Me: Sorry about that. My new phone seems to be glitching.
Auburn: Like I said, no judgment. You do you, boo. By the way, were you aware Bouvier now has a lingerie line?
The asshole sends me a link to a pair of pink panties with white polka dots and lace trim.
Me: Fuck off. Also, are you really charging a hundred bucks for a pair of panties?
Auburn: They are of exceptional quality. You should try them. They’ll be very soft against your manly bits.
Me: Could you please, for the love of all that’s holy, never say “manly bits” to me again?
Auburn: I thought we were bonding. You know, since you’re sharing all your kinky proclivities with me.
Me: Please stop.
Auburn: Quick question. Is Margarita the deluxe model with the action mouth?
Me: I’m going to switch all your golf balls with range balls before the tournament.
The fucker sends me more links to panties.
The next few hours pass without incident. I reply to a few text messages, but nothing odd happens, and I relax.
Then Phoenix sends a message in the family group chat, which consists of all the Hale siblings and their wives.
Phoenix: Has anyone checked on Dad today?
Perri: I went by at lunch. He was eating a salad with grilled chicken.
Nicolette: He hasn’t had any more signs or symptoms?
Perri: Nope. He looked great. Mom said he has a follow-up appointment with the neurologist next week.
Helix: See if they want Nic to go with them. Since she’s a medical doctor, she can help decipher all the medical jargon.
Nicolette: I’d be happy to.
My sister-in-law is absolutely brilliant. She has dual doctorate degrees in biochemistry and medicine, and she did a residency in dermatology, making her the perfect fit to run a cosmetics laboratory.
Me: I plan to go have dinner with them tomorrow. I just have to go home right after work and then I’ll head over.
The replies come in fast, one after the other.
Perri: Well that’s something I never wanted to know about my brother.
Phoenix: Which bar?
Helix: Bruh. There are ladies in this chat.
Jordie: As the founding secretary of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee, I’d like to lodge a formal protest.
Phoenix: I love your tits, babe.
Jordie: Thanks, hubby.
Perri: See if they’re hiring. I’ve got to move out of Mom and Dad’s house before I scream.
Nicolette: I’ve been thinking about taking a pole dancing class. Who else wants to go?
Jordie: I’m in.
Perri: Me too.
Helix: No to Perri pole dancing. Nic, I’m shopping for poles right now.
Phoenix: I second the no for Perri. You’re too young. Helix, order me and Jordie one too. I’ll Venmo you.
Perri: I’m not a baby anymore! I can take a pole dancing class if I want.
With trepidation, I scroll up to look at the last text I sent. Sure enough, the words are different from what I typed.
Me: I plan to go have dinner with them tomorrow. I just have to go to the titty bar right after work and then I’ll head over.
Goddammit. What the fuck is going on here? I stand up and walk out of my office. “Ms. Espinoza, where did you get my new phone?”
“At the Apple store, like you asked.” She digs through a folder and hands over a receipt. “See?”
I inspect it. There is, indeed, a charge for an iPhone and case. “And it was a new phone, not a refurbished one or something, right?” I verify.
“Yes, it’s a new one.” She points to her trash can where a rectangular white box sits at the bottom. “Is there a problem?”
“Uh, no. I… I guess I just need to get used to it.” I return to my office, finding the group chat has launched into a discussion about me and my lame-ass love life. They’re trying to find me a date. Fucking great.
Nicolette: What about Sybil from the microbiology lab? She’s cute.
Helix: Babe, Sybil hasn’t brushed her hair since 2016.
Nicolette: We could buy her a brush and some detangling products.
Perri: Oh, what about Ariel from marketing?
Phoenix: No, she always smells like patchouli. Remi hates the smell of patchouli. Jordie, what about Liz from your team?
Jordie: She’s a lesbian.
[Remington Hale has left the chat.]
[Phoenix Hale added Remington Hale to the chat.]
Me: Would you all please stop it? I don’t need help finding a date.
Phoenix: Your pee pee is going to fall off from lack of use.
Perri: Is that really a thing? Do pee pees really fall off if you don’t use them?
Helix: You’re too young to be talking about pee pees.
Perri: No I’m not! Pee pee, pee pee, pee pee.
Me: Could we please stop saying pee pee, for fuck’s sake? And mine is perfectly fine, thank you very much.
Jordie: Ooh, tell us more.
Phoenix: Hey!
Jordie: What? I’m not asking for dick pics. I’m just curious if your brother is getting his wick moisturized regularly.
Helix: I’m voting no because now he’s going to titty bars. Also, moisturized wick? Eww.
Phoenix: I bet it’s one of those high-end clubs with chandeliers and shit where they serve filet mignon and expensive scotch during the show.
Perri: And all their names are like Mercedes and Crystal.
Nicolette: Not a Cinnamon or Cherry in sight.
Me: Please. Stop. I’m not going to any bars. I got a new phone, and it’s acting weird.
Phoenix: Weirder than a grown-ass man going to a strip club by himself?
Helix: To be honest, I think it would be worse if he went with a group of friends. I’ve never understood men who plan bachelor parties at a strip club.
Phoenix: It is giving circle jerk vibes. Rem, is that what this is? A circle jerk situation?
[Remington Hale has left the chat.]
[Phoenix Hale added Remington Hale to the chat.]
Phoenix: Stop leaving. You’re obviously having some kind of mid-life crisis, and we’re here to help you.
Helix: I’m not doing a damn circle jerk. I don’t care if he is my brother.
Me: Jesus fucking Christ. Listen to me, assholes. There is no circle jerk and no titty bar. I told you I got a new phone, and it just keeps typing this random shit.
Nicolette: Can you run over to the lab, and I’ll take a look at it?
Me: Sounds good.
As soon as I type that, the entire chorus of Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” appears in place of “sounds good.” Like, the entire chorus from the first “never” to the last “you.”
Phoenix: Bruh, did you just Rick roll us?
Me: Fuck my life. Nic, I’m on the way.
Twenty minutes later, my sister-in-law is laughing her ass off while she scrolls through some settings on my phone. “Oh my god, this is genius. Please tell me you typed ‘I would love to’ at some point today?”
“No, I didn’t, but I did tell Auburn Bouvier that I liked to wear pink panties and dance the lambada with my blow up doll,” I say dryly.
I wait until they’re done cracking up. Helix can barely breathe, and Nicolette has to remove her glasses to wipe tears from her eyes.
“Why? What would have happened if I typed that?”
“It would have come up as ‘I once put toothpaste in my bunghole.’” She holds her stomach and belly laughs. Again. Helix joins in.
I wave my hands around in frustration. “But why is it doing that? It’s a brand new phone.”
Nicolette heaves in a few calming breaths and then bursts into giggles again. I glare at her until she composes herself. “Sorry, but this is the best thing I’ve ever seen. You know how you can alter your settings so if you type ‘OMW,’ it automatically types ‘on my way’ for you?”
“No, I’ve never used that. I just text whatever I want to say.”
“It’s like a sort of shortcut when texting. It’s called predictive text, and someone has been messing with yours.” She hands my phone over with a grin. “I fixed it for you.”
“Mindy,” I mutter. “She went and picked up my phone for me.”
Nicolette howls with laughter. “Oh my god. I think I have a girl crush on her.”
My brother chuckles too. “I don’t blame you one bit. That’s fucking diabolical. Mad respect to Mindy.” He winks. “Might want to watch your ass around that one.”
“Yeah, no shit,” I reply. I give my sister-in-law a quick hug. “Thanks for your help.”
By the time I’m riding up the elevator in the main office building, I’m beginning to see the humor and the absolute genius of the prank my assistant pulled on me.
I’ve been a bit of a dick today, so I can’t say I didn’t deserve it.
I snicker into my hand once more in the hallway and then school my features.
As I pass by Mindy’s desk, I pause only long enough to say, “Well played, Ms. Espinoza. Well played.”
I’m pretty sure I hear her laughing as I close the door behind me.