“We’re talking. Emails.”
“That’s good, right?”
“It’s something.”
He studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Don’t overthink it, brother. Women can smell desperation.”
?
Three days later, there was still no response to my last email.
I was in the clubhouse bar, nursing a beer and pretending to watch the game, when Handful dropped into the seat beside me.
“You see the new girl? Brandy?” He let out a low whistle. “Tits like you wouldn’t believe, brother. I’m talking—” He made a cupping gesture, the same gesture that had earned him his road name years ago when he’d greeted a club girl by announcing she was “a perfect handful.” The name had stuck. So had the gesture. “Well, two generous handfuls.”
I shook my head. “You’re a poet, Handful.”
“I’m a connoisseur.” He flagged down the prospect behind the bar for another drink. “You’ve been weirdly absent from the party lately. Everything okay with your dick?”
“My dick’s fine.”
“Could’ve fooled me. Brandy was asking about you earlier. Said she’d heard the president had certain... appetites.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Wanted to know if the rumors were true.”
“Tell her the rumors were exaggerated.”
Handful stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “Brother, have youseenher? I’m not saying she’s the hottest piece of ass in the county, but I’m definitely saying she’s top three.”
“Not interested.”
“Not—” He sputtered into his beer. “Okay, what the hell is going on with you? First you disappear for three months, then you come back acting like a monk, now you’re turning down women who look like they walked out of a wet dream. Did you join a cult? Find Jesus? Lose your balls?”
“None of the above.”
“Then what?”
I took a long pull of my beer, considering how much to say. Handful wasn’t exactly known for his emotional intelligence, but he was my brother. He deserved some version of the truth even if he wouldn’t understand it.
“I’m trying to be someone worth a damn,” I said finally. “Turns out that means not sticking my dick in everything that moves.”
Handful was quiet for a moment—possibly the longest I’d ever seen him go without talking.
“This is about Indira,” he said. Not a question.
“Yeah.”
“You think she’s coming back?”
“I don’t know. But if she does, I want to be someone she can actually trust. And if she doesn’t...” I shrugged. “Then at least I’ll be an improved version of myself.”
Handful nodded slowly, something almost like respect in his expression. “Not stupid.”
“High praise.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.” He clapped me on the shoulder and stood up. “But hey, if you change your mind about Brandy, let me know. For now, I’ll take one for the team.”
“Your sacrifice is noted.”
After he left, I pulled out my phone before I could stop myself—the same motion I’d made probably fifty times that day, thumbswiping to email before my brain caught up. Still nothing from Indira.
