Chapter Fourteen #2
I’m about to answer her when I hear Gryffin babble and my heart swells. I fucking love that kid. He’s perfect and, of course, I’m his favorite uncle, probably because all of Psycho’s club brothers smell like weed or sex…or both.
“Lickin’? Really? You think that’s better than the actual word you want to use?” Standing, I walk out the main entrance and head straight to my car at the far end of the parking lot.
“Don’t change the subject. I called you like…” She pauses and I can just see her looking at her watch. “Six hours ago.”
“It’s been a day. And night. We had three domestic disputes, one of the women coded in the bus and Salem had to resuscitate her. It was touch and go.” My story has the intended effect. Mac’s tone drops a few octaves and now she sounds normal.
“Aww, I’m sorry, Spency.” Ugh, just no. “You wanna come over? I’m alone with Gryffin because the guys have a church meeting.
I chuckle. I don’t know why it’s called church. Those guys would probably burst into flames if they ever did walk into one.
“Sure. I need me some Gryffin love.” The thought brings me joy.
“No can do, Uncle Spence. It’s way past his bedtime.
but we were having too much fun in the bath.
” This time I laugh outright just as I close my car door and turn the engine.
She’s the worst rule-follower ever. When Gryffin was born, she’d read every expecting mother book out there and she was planning her baby’s life to the second.
I bought her a pretty notebook where she kept tabs on everything.
His sleep schedule, his eating schedule, his poop schedule for Christ’s sake.
Now, she’s all…bath time was too much fun. Such a Mac move.
“I’m not coming if I can’t see Gryff.”
“Spencer Holt, are you emotionally blackmailing me?”
“Yes.” She’ll cave. She always does.
“Fine, but only a kiss. It’s late.” My best friend is just too easy to manipulate with promises of love and hugs.
“Deal. Get the wine out. I’m in need of alcohol.”
It takes me twenty minutes, but I’m at her and Psycho’s home before Gryffin is asleep.
On the down side, I only get five lines read before the kid’s conked out.
“Damn, he’s like a switch. I wish I could fall asleep like that.” When I walked in, I was too concerned with getting some baby love that I washed my hands then walked straight to the back room.
Kissing Mac on the cheek, I take the wine she hands me and we both plop down onto the couch, the television running on mute while Schitt’s Creek plays in the background.
Best. Show. Ever.
“I’m just going to say this, then we’ll move on.” Oh, fuck my life. Why do I feel like this is an intervention? Or worse, an ambush.
“If this is about what I think this is, save it. I’m not talking it out, Mac. It’s done.” Mac frowns, then takes a long…too long, sip of her wine before she places it back on the table.
The problem is that I know Mac, sometimes better than she knows herself. Everything she’s doing screams bad news, her brain working overtime to figure out how to tell me something.
“All I’m saying and then we’ll lay it to rest, is that… so what if he got a blowjob? Like four days ago he was doing a literal…” she leans in, whispering like Gryffin is going to suddenly choose this moment to wake up and start repeating cuss words. “Fuck train.”
“Cum. He called it a cum train.” Gross, I can’t believe those words came out of my mouth.
“I don’t know what’s more disturbing. The name or the fact that you just corrected me.”
Our eyes meet, and in a classic Spence and Mac move, we answer my question in unison.
“Both.”
“But seriously, it’s never bothered you before.” We’re both sitting on the couch, facing each other, the conversation about to take a serious turn.
“Well,”—it’s my turn to sip on the wine—“Parker’s different.
I think they’re pretty perfect together and I don’t want to be the third, gay, wheel.
Like, you know, when he needs a dick or something.
” I know I’m being crass but I want to be in a relationship, not just the on-call cock to balance out his needs.
“Yeah, I get it but…he was bummed after you left.” Mac starts playing with a loose strand from the blanket that’s nicely draped over the light-brown couch. “What if…and hear me out—”
“No.”
“I said hear me out.” She’s whisper-yelling and I’m tempted to just get up and walk out because I know that whatever she’s about to say is going to suck.
“No.”
“I will cut you, Spencer Holt.” Ugh. Fine.
Instead of speaking, I just roll my index finger in the universal sign for get on with it, bitch, before I smother your princess ass and call it a gift to the universe.
“Okay, so…I know you don’t like the vagina but…” She takes another sip from her wine, then a big breath before speaking too quickly for it to be human. “Maybe you could be a trouple.”
“A what?” Oh my God, the woman is suggesting something and she doesn’t even know the actual word for. Maybe it was a slip of the tongue and I need to stop being a drama llama and give her the benefit of the doubt.
“A trouple.” Nope.
“You mean a throuple? Like three and couple. Like a couple and the third wheel?” I shake my head because she cannot be suggesting this.
I don’t have time to rip her a new one because the door swings open and Aleko walks in looking like a demented god with eyes only for Mac.
But I don’t have time to admire their unwavering love because right behind him is none other than the subject of our discussion.
Grinder steps inside and his eyes find mine immediately, like he already knew exactly where I was. Gah, I hate it when my heart does that skippy thing that’s reserved for high school first loves, not grown-ass adults.
My accusing stare lands on Mac and the way she shifts in her seat and gives me a guilty-as-fuck smile, I know.
“Traitor.”