I giggle despite the serious breach in my privacy. “God forbid. It’s for…” I hunt for a name. Surely, I can find one amongst my hundreds of relatives, including second-cousins-once removed. I need one who won’t murder me for starting a nasty rumor. “Josi. Yup, that is definitely who I am buying these for. Ah-huh. Yeppers.”
I’ll go to confession and explain the white lie to Father O’Connell next Christmas. Hopefully, with months behind us, me and my cousin will be on speaking terms.
“Please don’t tell anyone. Her mom thinks she’s a virgin.” Actually, her mother believes she’s on her way to becoming a nun which would be funny if it weren’t so obviously off the mark.
Rumors spread faster in Bensonhurst than COVID so I never lie, at least not blatantly. Damn, I knew I should’ve taken the train into the city but I got so caught up with Suds being in danger, I let my guard down.
“I need to go. Buh-bye.” Waving, I rush my purchase to the counter.
Mrs. Nardo doesn’t take my not-so-subtle hint and follows. “Oh, yoo-hoo. Wait. I almost forgot. I have a job for you.”
Her adulterous husband kept our detective agency afloat for months but he passed on a few months ago. I can only imagine what work she might have in mind.
I hand my purchases to the pharmacist, Sparky, who’s jaw drops open. “Are you preggo, Sam?”
Oh, for shit’s sake.“No. I’m buying these for a friend.”
“I said the exact same thing when my mom found my stash.” Pleased with his cleverness, he smirks and rings up my order.
Still standing beside me, the octogenarian opens her purse and hands me an envelope. “This is my new boyfriend, Herman. I met him online. I want you to do a background check. Nowadays, a woman can’t be too careful.”
“That’s very judicious of you. I’ll send you a contract by email.” I pray for her to leave so I can begin damage control.
“No need, dear. Just bring the papers by the salon tomorrow. Ciao.” Turning, she digs into her mammoth purse, pulls out her reading glasses, and types one painful letter at a time into her phone.
Rolling my eyes, I grab my bags, and put up my umbrella. Oh my God. I am so screwed. By the time she finishes messaging, the whole world will know I was buying pregnancy tests. Perhaps, I should leave town.
Let’s see. How far can one get on twenty-three dollars and sixty-three cents? There’s room on my Visa card but I promised Suds I’d only use it for emergencies.
I suppose I could leave him a message, but what if this is all a false alarm? There’s no point in getting everyone all freaked out for no reason. I’ll simply go on home, pee on the fucking stick, and deal. Easy-squeezy, right?
Chapter 3
Sebastian
Back at my hotel, it’s two in the morning but only eleven PM on the east coast. Leaning back on the bed, I’m so damn horny for my wife, if I was back in Brooklyn, we’d fuck until dawn.
“Hey, sugar.” I make sure she can’t miss my dejected tone.
“What happened? Why are you home so soon? Did they make you stop rambling?” Sam’s my biggest fan. Strange, considering it’s what got her fired from her former job at the FBI.
“The jerk interrogating me said I was a menace to which I replied I was only getting warmed up at which point, he shut me down.” Recalling the police sergeant’s face, I chuckle.
“No one is pressing charges?” She sounds genuinely worried so I hurry to reassure her.
“Nope. All good. Next time, I’ll hold back the dashcam footage until I’m done telling my side of the story. If an image is worth a thousand words, video must be ten times that.”
“You need a new hobby.” She laughs and my cock twitches at the thought of entering my sweet wife’s folds.
“I miss you, sugar.” Married for over a year, you’d think the honeymoon was over but my willy here, still hasn’t gotten the memo.
“I miss you, too. When are you coming home?” Her tone shifts to the sexy one she uses in bed.
Closing my eyes, I picture our apartment and her pretty face lit blue by her laptop screen. “Slate wants me to meet with another client in the morning. Then, I’ll fly standby, catch the first flight available.”
“I, ah…” She trails off like something’s on her mind. I’m guessing she’s doing something we agreed she wouldn’t.
“What’s wrong?” My heart races at the thought of all the trouble she could get in without even trying and wonder if I can convince my boss to let me bail on the interview.
