“I don’t know how you boys put up with Bubba for extended periods of time.”
“He’s kind, he’s loving, and he’s a good man,” I say flatly, because if she thinks she’s going to make digs at Bubba’s expense in front of me,she’s higher than The Core Four during their weekend houseparties. “He deserves the fucking world.”
“Yeah,” she says, glancing over her shoulder. Though she can’t see Bubba from where she’s standing, she still smiles thoughtfully. “He’s a damn good man.” She turns to Johnny. “So, what about you, Johnny Boy? How’s Minnesota been treating you?”
“It’s been good. A little further from Dunsberry than I’d like, but the weather’s nice, and my friends are here.”
“I’m really glad to hear that.” She turns back to face us, and leans against the wall, staring at the table. “I’ve never been to a seance before. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous.”
I huff. “You haven’t been to one yet, and you won’t be part of one tonight, either. I don’t walk the Spirit Tracks. I’ve never been able to summon the ghost of a pheasant, much less a human. I do have a spirit guide who I speak to, but never actual ghosts. I lie to my fans sometimes, saying I can. But I only do that to the jerks. My psychic mentor and mutual masturbation buddy, Brendon, says you must be at one with the universe before snipping the seam between the living and dead. I’m only an apprentice psychic. That’s more of a master-craftsman trick. I mainly dabble in tarot, but I’ve been studying divination.”
“Is that the thing with the tea leaves?” Johnny asks, and I jerk my head in his direction.
“How the hell do you know what divination is?”
“I’ve been reading that book you keep on the dresser.”
“You’ve been readingThe Solo Practitioner’s Guide to Mysticism, Magic, and Masturbation?”
“With a title like that, how could I not?” he jokes, but I see right through it. He did this for me. To get to know me a little bit better. So we’ll have something in common.
I smile, blushing just as brightly as him, I’m sure. “Did you like it?”
He nibbles his lip and nods. “I normally can’t make it too far into a book without getting bored, but that one’s pretty good.”
“If I could interject,” Faith says. “Why is masturbation included in a book about magic?”
I scoff. She clearly knows nothing of the spiritual world. “Mysticism and sexuality go hand in hand. I always give better readings after I’ve just busted a fat load.”
Her eyes bulge. She doesn’t look disgusted, though, and it kind of bums me out, because I kind of hoped she might see it as her cue to exit stage left and fuck off back to the living room. On second thought, maybe that’s not the best idea. The last thing I want is to give her more unaccompanied time with Daddy.
Daddy.
“Oh, I like you,” she says to me, her voice sounding like one of those ladies I used to watch at Applebees when I couldn’t stay the night at Austin’s house. I was just a kid, and I had to do some stuff I’m not proud of to make it. Lips all over, hands touching every which way. Sometimes I couldn’t bring myself to do it, though. Sometimes, I just wanted to be still. When I had nowhere else to go, I would go to Applebees, I would order a Diet Coke and a burger with my earnings, and I would sit there until closing time. During my time at The ‘Bees, as I called it, I would watch other people—happy people. Normal people—desperate for connection, but unable to connect. My favorite people to watch were groups of fabulous women in their forties and fifties who would come in and wreak the most delicious havoc. Cutting up at the table, joking and teasing, often flirting with male waiters who did their best to flirt back without coming across as creepy. Most of the women would stare at their waiter’s ass as he walked away, as did I, and inevitably, the ringleader of the friend group would makea saucy comment about bakeries and buns. A member of their party would playfully slap the ringleader’s shoulder, loudly proclaiming, “Oh, Jackie. You’re so bad!” I could see Faith doing some shit like that. I bet it would be a lot of fun to have her shove my shoulder and tell me what a scoundrel I’ve been. Aside from Deidre, I haven’t had a whole lot of female friends. Maybe in some other life—one where she wasn’t Bubba’s ex-wife—we might have been friends, but Bubba’s cock has been inside her, and that’s a potential-friendship dealbreaker.
“I have a charming face and a dashing personality,” I say, sincerely adding, “Thank you for noticing.”
She chuckles, and out of nowhere, she turns her head in Johnny’s direction, excitedly stating, “Oh, Johnny, I meant to tell you. Before we headed here, we stopped in Texas so Jaden could get whatever he needed from the old trailer before we sell it. I saw Annie at the Pick-n-Save, and she was asking about you.”
Nope. I won’t be listening to that.
As she goes through her encounter with Johnny’s ex—who I hate just as much as I hate Faith—I interrupt, saying, “I have to get ready for the reading I’m doing tonight.”
I rush out of the dining room, through the living room, and upstairs to our bedroom’s ensuite. The moment I’ve got my cock out, piss pours out like a waterfall, and I tilt my head back, sighing at the familiar relief of an emptying bladder. I’m not even in here ten seconds before the door opens. I look over, expecting to see Bubba or Johnny. Instead, Jaden is standing in the doorway, his jaw practically resting on the floor, his eyes fixed on my dick.
“Fuck,” he whispers, and I immediately move to cover myself, but I’m still pissing something fierce, so all I end up accomplishing is coating my hands in urine. As piss drenches my palms, he looks downat the toilet, doing what one could only describe as an exaggerated version of the pee-pee dance.
“Sorry,” he says, his voice not sounding sorry at all and he shifts back and forth on his feet. “I really had to pee. Johnny was using the one downstairs. He was also flirting shamelessly with my mother beforehand, but that’s hardly anything new.” As he continues, my heart slams, but not because I’m standing in front of my future stepson, probably, openly pissing on my palm like a lunatic. He stares at my hand. “You should probably stop peeing on your hand. Unless that’s something you’re into.”
I move my hand and shake it, trying to get the piss off my hand as the stream continues pouring.
“Of course not,” I say. “I was protecting my modesty.”
He shrugs. “It’s okay that you have a little dick, dude.”
My eyes bulge as my stream tapers. “It is not small. How dare you? And how would you even know?”
He shrugs. “I borrowed Uncle Johnny’s phone earlier. My internet is terrible here, and I really needed to shoot a load, so I brought up OnlyFans, but he was already logged in. Your page is the only one he’s subscribed to, and I got curious. You have a very pretty penis.” His tone is matter-of-fact, as if it’s a sentiment shared by the masses. “It doesn’t matter that it’s not that big.”
