Round Seventeen #2
“I’m frustrated! You’ve been a complete potato head since she turned up at old Mrs. Sava’s house last month.
You like her, Billy. You want to have a conversation with her that doesn’t include arguing, and at some point in the future, mayyyyybe, if the time is right, you wouldn’t mind taking her to bed.
Instead, you keep screaming about how love is for losers, and, if she won’t fuck you, one of her set-ups will.
No decent broad with half a potato in her head is gonna respond positively to that bullshit.
If you keep putting emotional ignoramus and ‘I’m just here to risk an STD’ energy into the world, then all you’re gonna attract are emotionally ignorant, STD-ridden women.
Meanwhile, your son’s already working on his own game.
He sure as hell ain’t gonna help you with yours. ”
“I am not in competition with my son.” I fold my arms and exhale an unhappy grunt. “He’s eight. He’s not a threat.”
“Wanna bet?” He tosses my phone back onto the table.
“Don’t be surprised if the kid’s hatching a plan to off you sometime soon.
He’ll skip-hop his butt across to the nice lady next door’s house, probably draft up some power of attorney documents, a custody schedule, maybe even a will, so when you die under totally suspicious circumstances, the house comes to him, and in the meantime, he’s already living with the puuuuurty Maggie Sava and her stuffed cat.
He took fresh donuts to school today. Did you know that? ”
“He…” I frown. “What?”
“Remi texted me. Your kid’s at school devouring fresh donuts and making sounds like Maggie’s mixing cocaine in the batter, and when anyone asks about it, he said Ms. Sava gave them to him.”
“When? He hasn’t even seen her today!”
“He’s got her cooking for him in secret,” he chuckles, his shoulders bouncing with laughter. “He’s not sharing the goods with you, and Detective Caster has no fuckin’ clue what’s happening right under his nose. That’s gotta be embarrassing.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I snatch up my phone and unlock the screen. Navigating to our chat, I sneer at the ‘let’s conduct business via text from now on’ bullshit. Instead of hitting reply, I hit her name and bring the phone to my ear.
“Aw shit. You’re calling her now?” Ramone stabs the board with the tip of his finger. Stab-stab-stab-stab. “It’s too soon, Billy! You haven’t learned enough yet.”
“Shut up.” I plug one ear and listen to the dial tone in the other. I wait… wait… wait… wait…
“Hello?” Maggie’s breath comes out on a fast exhale. Like she’s running a marathon, or… doing other things. “Hi. Billy?”
“Maggie?” Noise carries through from her end of the line. Feet shuffle. Life is busy. “Where are you?”
“Oh, shoot!” She drops something heavy wherever she is. “Dammit. Crap!”
“Are you okay?”
Ramone stab-stab-stabs a section on the board that reads, “How are you feeling? Don’t talk about angry sex!”
“I’m okay. So sorry,” she speaks to someone else. “I’m such a klutz. Thank you.”
“Where are you, Magnolia?”
“I’m at a work thing.” She moves through a noisy section of wherever she is, past chattering people and through a door that leads outside until the sounds of puttering cars and a soft breeze replace the constant hum of conversation.
Finally, she exhales. “Is everything okay, Billy? I’m kinda busy right now, so if it’s not an emergency—”
“I mean…” Scowling, I run a hand through my hair. “It’s not an emergency. I was just calling to—”
Ramone frantically taps the board.
“Ask how you’re feeling.”
“H-how I’m feeling?”
I just know her eyes narrow into suspicious slits.
“Um… why?”
“What do you mean why? Jesus! We were friends once, weren’t we? I’m allowed to—”
Ramone taps the board again. No arguing!
Fuck! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! “Sorry.” I slam my eyes closed and groan. “I didn’t mean it like—”
“It’s not that you can’t ask…” She hedges. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all. I’m working right now, and there are a lot of clients who need my attention, so…”
“Yeah?” A grin spreads across my lips, even without my permission. “How many clients can a love expert possibly have?”
“More than I can handle sometimes.”
“Wait…” I snap my eyes open again and latch onto Ramone’s. “How many one-on-one clients do you work with?”
“What?”
“Are you tying ties for other men? Are you in their homes late at night, cooking with their kids, debriefing after dates?”
“Well… yeah,” she breathes. “That’s my job. But I do events too, remember? That’s how I make the bulk of my income.”
“Hi, Maggie.” A man’s voice, gruff and thick and just deep enough to piss me off, rambles past. “How’s it going today?”
“It’s going great.” She takes the phone from her ear, so I practically fucking feel the arc of her arm as it lowers. “How are you doing, Elson? How’s business?”
“Oh, it’s great.” He kisses her.
He fucking kisses her!
I heard it.
“Stocks are up.” He pulls back and takes her hand.
I mean, fuck, I don’t know that he takes her hand, but he absolutely fucking takes her hand!
Probably pulls her in tight. Promises her all the things that make her smile.
“You coming back inside, sweetheart? You know I’m here to see you specifically. ”
She chokes out a flirty giggle. Oh please, Elson. You’re so dreamy and sexy and totally emotionally mature. “I’ll join you in a moment, I promise. Just taking a work call right now.”
“A work call,” I snarl, my teeth snapping closed with a violent click. “She said she’s taking a work call. She called me a work call, Ramone!”
He hits the board, right where CALM DOWN is written in capital letters. “You are a work call, dipshit. You sure as shit ain’t friends, since you’re always being mean to her.”
“I’ll be with you in a moment, Elson. Just let me finish this.” She brings the phone back to her ear. “Did you say something?”
“What?”
“I was talking to someone else, but I thought I heard voices coming from my phone, too.”
“Nope. What time will you be at my place tonight?”
“Six-thirty. I already said so in my texts. Did you read those?”
Yes, I fucking read them! “Can you be there by six at the latest?” I meet Ramone’s wary stare.
“I’m really not sure about my outfit for tonight, and the prize I won promises all the bells and whistles.
Something about helping me choose a shirt if needed.
” I drag my bottom lip between my teeth and grin.
“I’m nervous about this date, since the chick seems decent and I’m trying really hard to be less… ”
Silence hangs for one beat. Then two. Three.
“Less, what?”
“Less Billy. You’re sick of my bad attitude, right? Well, I’m gonna try harder. I promise.”
“You…” She hesitates. “Really? You’re open to doing this properly now?”
“Sure. I tried my way, which clearly wasn’t working, so now I guess I’ll trust your hundred percent success rate instead. But I need you at my place by six. Does that work for you?”
“Uh…” She shuffles on her feet, turning… maybe. Or checking her watch… more likely. “Yeah, I can probably be there by six. I won’t get away from my thing for the next little while, but I promise to do my very best.”
“Great! Thanks—”
“In the meantime, I’d like you to try on different outfits. If you’re wearing jeans, try on that olive long-sleeve Henley of yours. It looks good on you, and the color makes your eyes pop.”
“The olive makes my eyes pop.”
She likes when I wear the green Henley!
Ramone charges away from the board and stalks across the room.
Curious, I spin in my chair and watch him open the boardroom door, then slam it shut again.
“What are you—”
“Oh hey, Billy.” He strides back to the board and messily scribbles words across its surface. “Here you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“You…” I look left. Then right. Then back to the board and the barely legible ply alng. “Ah… Okay. Did you need something?”
“Yeah! I’m having a barbecue at my place this weekend. You and your mashed potatuh are coming, right?” He coughs out a chuckling breath. “Mashed Potatuh is Jeremy. You get it?”
I firm my lips into flat lines. “Yeah. I got it.”
“Saturday, lunchtime. Bring a six-pack and a couple of steaks. I’ll provide entertainment and good vibes. Oh… I-is that Maggie on the phone?”
Get the man a fucking Academy Award.
“Yes,” I drawl. “Maggie is on the phone.”
“You’ll come too, okay, Mags!? I’m over on Huntley. But don’t worry yourself about driving. Jump in with Billy and Jeremy. That way, you can drink four of Billy’s six, and you won’t risk a DUI.”
“Um…” Maggie noisily gulps. “Okay. S-sure.”
“What’d she say?”
I tilt my head one way and wait for the crackle of bones. Then I tilt the other way and grunt at the painful pop of my joints.
“Billy?”
“She said sure.”
“Excellent! Well, that about does me, I reckon.” He turns to the board and swipes the entire screen clear. “You’ve got a date tonight, dontcha, Billy?”
You know I fucking do.
“I hope you have a lovely time. I know you’ve been working real hard on your manners lately. You should wear that green Henley of yours. It makes your chest look all muscly and shit.”
“Wow, he’s…” Maggie exhales in my ear. “He’s secure in his masculinity and full of compliments for his friends. I like that in a man. It’s healthy.”
You like Ramone?
“Awesome! I’ll see you at six o’clock.”