I like to joke—privately, with Carter and Susa—that I am a pet who arrived mostly pre-trained. The first time I make that joke is on that Tuesday afternoon, when Carter and I return to Susa’s.
We bring our laundry with us. Carter is the one who suggested we take the Snot Box today, because it’s easier to get the baskets in and out of the back hatch, rather than wrangle them into the trunk of my car.
Logic, yo.
But I grab his basket and carry it downstairs for him, stacked on top of mine, despite him offering to carry his own. We’ve both stripped our beds and it doesn’t escape my notice that there are two extra sets of sheets—tightly folded, because even his dirty laundry is stored neater than mine—in Carter’s things.
When we reach the Snot Box, he opens the back hatch for me. Once I have the baskets and laundry detergent stowed, then he does something that totally surprises me—he hands me his keys.
“Come on,” he says as he heads for the passenger door. “You know the way.”
I scurry around after him, opening the door for him. He’s still limping more than he was yesterday and it’s the least I can do for him. “You serious?”
“Yeah.” He grins. “Unless you’re too embarrassed to be seen driving the Snot Box?”
I’m feeling a little humbled that he’s actually trusting me enough to let me drive his car. “No, I’ll drive.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
I close the door for him and wonder if it’s his pain making him hand this off to me. I know he takes a couple of medications, but I don’t know what, and of course I haven’t pried. That’d be fucking douchey. I saw him taking something not long before we left today and he’s definitely moving more stiffly this afternoon than he was this morning.
When I get behind the wheel I realize my legs are longer than his. “I need to adjust the seat and mirrors. Sorry.”
“That’s fine.” Carter settles back in his seat and I notice him wince.
I don’t mention it, because he seems to be the kind of guy who doesn’t want to be fussed over too much in the light of day. Despite the traffic, we make it to Susa’s place about twenty-five minutes later, and I hurry around to the back hatch to grab our stuff before he can.
Susa greets us with a smile and holds the door for me, directing me to the utility room. Even though I wanted to put them in the baskets and carry them, too, Carter’s carrying the bottles of soap and fabric softener, because he’s stubborn and he’s Carter.
“I don’t mind if you want to wash my clothes with yours,” Carter says.
“That’s fine. Makes things easier.”
He hesitates in the utility room doorway, leaning against it. “Look, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I don’treallyexpect you to wash my clothes all year.”
It’s almost like there’s a worried tone in his voice. I expect he’s concerned about last night, but honestly, it doesn’t freak me out. He’s the most honest person I’ve had in my life.
Ever.
I turn, wanting to lighten the mood. “I expect you to teach me how to do it the right way. I’m a well-trained pet. I just need a little fine-tuning in some areas, that’s all.”
That earns me a hearty laugh and a smile that makes me feel good deep down inside. When he laughs at me, it’s never cruel.
That’s something I’m not used to, and I think I’m going to come to enjoy it a lot.
“Okay,” he finally says, still smiling. “We’ll whip you into shape. I just wanted to spare you fingering my briefs, is all.”
“Hey, fingering your briefs is a small price to pay to have a wingman to help me face my mother. I’m getting the better end of this deal, trust me.”
Once I start the first load and I join them in the kitchen, Susa gives us a formal tour of the house. Now that we’re not worried about Kendall showing up out of nowhere, or distracted by cooking and conversation, we can all relax. She doesn’t have much in the way of furniture. A desk in one bedroom that looks out on the pool lanai, some boxes stashed in the second guest room—which doesn’t have a bed—and a king-sized bed, nightstand, and dresser in the master bedroom, which also looks out on the pool. She has a large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, but the cable box and DVD player sit on the dresser under it.
She has a hot tub and a large pool on a screened lanai, and the small backyard is surrounded by a tall privacy fence.
I start to think about her skinny-dipping, then immediately shut that thought off when I realize it’s threatening to give me a hard-on that I won’t be able to easily hide in my shorts.
“Not going to take on a roommate?” Carter asks when we return to the living room.
“Don’t need one. Daddy bought me the house, and my trust fund has more than enough in it to keep me going for several years. By then, I’ll be earning a living as a lawyer.” She smirks. “And if something was to happen, I’ll just call Daddy.” Her smile fades. “I’m careful with my money. I’m not stupid. I know how lucky I am, and I am not about to squander what I have. He’s been teaching me how to manage my money since I was five and started getting an allowance.”
