I could understand the interest. Jake was viewing this as an entertainment opportunity. It wasn’t every day I was called upon to improve my overall looks.
“Can I help you?”
“Not really. I’m just curious what you’re going to come up with,” he said, that lazy grin of his hard to ignore.
“Well, be curious in another room,” I replied, pulling out a white Hanes t-shirt and holding it up for inspection. From the corner of my eye, I saw Jake cringe.
“What?” I asked.
He shook his head. “You’re not going to wear that, right?”
“Maybe. Why? What’s wrong with it? This shirt checks off all the items on her list. No holes. No words.”
“I’m pretty sure ‘no pit stains’ would have made her list if she’d had more time to compile it.”
Upon closer examination, I could clearly see the yellow underarm rings. “Well, shit.”
Slanting his gaze to mine, Jake smirked. “Why do all your clothes look like they came out of a dumpster? Doesn’t Mom take care of you?”
“Most of my clothes are damaged from climbing out windows. Occupational hazard.” I shrugged.
“I thought you weren’t climbing out windows anymore.”
“I’m not, but my clothes haven’t caught up yet.”
“It’s not rocket science, Keith. Pick a shirt, get your gift, and let’s go. I’m hungry.”
Ah, shit. My gift. I’d totally forgotten the gift. Thankfully, my younger brother had reminded me numerous times of Mom’s upcoming birthday, which was the only reason I actually had a gift to give her.
“Bro,” I answered, stripping off my bacon shirt and tossing it at him. “You saved my ass.”
“What’s new?”
Kidding aside, there was nothing new. Jake had single-handedly kept my worth in this family high even when I should have been devalued long ago. While everyone else jumped into Mitch’s gleaming red wagon, Jake remained behind, helping me pound the wheels back onto mine. His loyalty had gotten me though some tough times, so if he wanted to enjoy the Keith show, I was inclined to allow him.
“If you’re so smart, Pretty Boy,” I said, gesturing to my drawers. “Be my guest.”
“Screw you. I’m not the one with lady hair.”
“It’s pirate hair, and everyone knows pirates are cool. Now, help me find something Mom will like. God knows you’re the biggest kiss-ass in the family.”
Ignoring the diss, Jake rose from the beanbag and, as if he were filming an episode ofQueer Eye For The Straight Guy, my little brother effortlessly whipped out a button-down shirt from my closet.
“Oh no. No way!” I protested, waving my hands around to illustrate my utter distaste for his choice. “Mom didn’t say a dress up shirt, she just said a clean one.”
“Do you want to make her happy on her birthday or not?”
“Not. Definitely not.”
“Fine. Whatever. Wear the shirt with the pit stains. I’m sure she’ll love it,” he said, heading for the exit. “And don’t forget the gift.”
Ah, shit! The gift! How had I already forgotten it? Eyeing the shirt Jake had chosen for me, guilt clouded my better judgment. He was right – she’d love it, and it was her birthday. I just had to hope no one I knew would be in the restaurant to see my embarrassing prep boy transformation. I’d already lost all street cred after giving up my side business, and now this.
Slipping on the shirt, I buttoned it to the second to top position before taking on the rat’s nest that was my hair. This was the result of whipping my head around after surfing but never actually combing it out. The matting was getting out of control.
Sighing, I pulled it back into a short ponytail and checked my appearance in the mirror. Oh, she was going to love this. Plus, it was a look I could get behind for the night. I was presentable while still retaining my pothead, screw-up flair.
Turning off the light, I jogged down the hallway before making an abrupt turn and heading back toward my room. I’d forgotten the fucking gift.
