“Okay, fine.” Might as well let everyone else in on their misery. “Babushka moved in with me because her family is all kinds of worked up that she has a boyfriend and she lent him some money.” No need to share the details of how much. “She and said-boyfriend decided to go to a weekend away at a casino up in Blackhawk. Jase insisted we chaperone. And we’re officially the worst chaperones in the history of chaperones.” She took a long pull of not-vodka’d seltzer. “So, they went to a movie. We played slots. Then we…ah…we kind of walked in on his grandmother in a clinch with her boyfriend. The boyfriend that I’d defended shortly before the…um…exhibition.” She took a quick glug of seltzer water and coughed.
“Holy crap.” Candy paused her beer bottle halfway to her lips.
“What kind of a clinch?” Velma asked, tipping her head to the side. “Clothes or no?”
“Definitely no,” Heather confirmed.
“What base?” Velma asked. “First, second?”
Heather let out a huge sigh, blowing through her lips. “I think they’d rounded home long before we got there.”
Claire’s expression froze. “I think that warrants running away.”
Brek glanced back to the bar. “I don’t think I have enough whiskey.”
“Brek. Go away. Girls’ night. We need to dissect this.” Velma shooed him away again.
“Why does he get to stay?” Brek jerked his chin to Eli.
Eli grinned big and settled deeper into the booth. “’Cause they like me.”
“I’ll fill you in later.” Velma smiled up at her husband. “You should probably go water down Jase’s whiskey, anyway.”
Brek grumbled and stalked back to the bar.
“Babushka? Seriously?” Velma asked. “Naked. She’s like a hundred.”
Not quite, but who was counting at that point?
“Oh yeah. I know what I saw.” Geriatric porn. Heather glanced to where Jase and his bottle of whiskey brooded at the bar.
“And whatexactlydid you see?” Claire scooted forward and dropped her elbows on the table. “Without being graphic. Just enough details so we can understand if it’s a one- or a two-bottle night for Jase.”
Heather swallowed. Hard. “Everything.”
“Everything?” Eli’s expression pinched in obvious disbelief.
“Oh, if it’s anatomy used to…you know…” Heather bit her lip and slid her gaze toward the wall.
“Have sex?” Claire pried.
“Yeah. We saw it all. The view from the doorway was right in line with the sofa, and they were…ah…you know…like she was on her hands and knees.” Heather’s entire neck and face heated at the thought.
“Doggie style?” Claire’s jaw dropped open. “You saw old-man balls?”
“In action.” Heather squeezed the lime and dropped it into her glass with aplop.
Velma scrunched up her eyebrows. “Babushka’s a little old to hold that position. How—”
Heather dropped her head to her hands. She would never forget the image burned into her retinas. “They used the throw pillows as leverage.”
“Holy shit.” Claire, for once, apparently had no other words. No witty comeback. Nada. “Good for her.”
“And that’s the story of why I’ll be stabbing out my eyes.” Heather took another gulp of soda, wishing like hell that Brek had laced it with a touch of vodka.
“C’mon, you’re not even kind of a prude. You can handle a little dash of old-man balls. You’re the queen of the penis cookies.” Velma rubbed at Heather’s back.
“My penis cookies are not elderly.”
