“What’s up, Lars?”
“Hey, man. What are you doing?”
“Visiting my parents. All the relatives are arriving for the crazy festivities.”
“Hey, Bree!” my mom calls in the background. “Do you want to try some of Grandma’s famous apple crumble pie?”
I roll my eyes heavenward; I know Mr. Super-Sonic Ears heard that shit.
“Bree is atyourparents’ house?” he yells in near laughter.
“It’s not what you think?”
“You’re saying you’re not pussy whipped?”
“Lars, don’t start.” I step outside to the backyard and explain everything that happened this morning.
Like me, Lars thinks how she lost her parents is fucked up and sad, but his one-track mind lasers in on one insignificant detail.
“She spent the night. You allowed a woman to sleep through the night in your bed? This is much worse than I thought, J.”
I release a long sigh.
“Why did you call me, Lars?”
“Oh, yeah. I can’t make it to the game tonight. Maybe call Ron or find someone else.”
“Do I want to know?”
Lars’ chuckle is devious. “No. You don’t.”
“Ron is busy tonight…”
Just then, my dad laughs boisterously, and my mind goes back to Bree’s words.
Enjoy them while you can.
“I have an idea.”
“Bree?” He teases.
“No, not Bree. Thanks for the heads up.” I disconnect the line before he can push the subject more, but a text shortly follows.
Lars: Pussy whipped
Me: Fuck off
Dropping my phone back in my pocket, I reenter the house and stop in front of my old man.
“Dad. Get ready. We have plans in a couple of hours.”
His eyebrows shoot up, and he studies me around his tumbler of whiskey.
“Plans?” The way he says it makes me feel like an asshole. I really do need to see them more.
“Yes, sir. Thanks to Bree, we have tickets to the Texas Stars’game tonight.”
He sits up suddenly interested. “The professional football team?”
