“If I use it, no questions asked. You get me the fuck out of there.”
“Aye, aye, captain.”
He leaned over the threshold and whispered in my ear, each syllable tickling the loose strands of hair hanging from my messy bun: “Sunburn.”
I stepped back. “Wait. Seriously? Is that your real safe word or did you just make it up?”
“Since I was a teenager. I fell asleep naked on the top deck of a yacht while we had a few days off during a European tour. I got a sunburn on my dick. It was torture and not the good kind.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and grinned. “Huh.”
“And meatball?” he asked.
I sighed. “The name of my first hamster. He ran away. RIP Meatball. Now, go before your future muse loses his patience!”
He shook his head. “I have questions.”
“Go!” I shouted back at him.
Ibasically counted to sixty and then stuffed my fuzzy-socked feet into boots and raced out the door. The key to followingsomeone is giving them a little bit of a lead. At least, I thought so based on my sweeping knowledge of action movies.
The heat in my rental car growled to life as I sped off down the mountain and into town. I’d told Matt to take Isaac for drinks and apps at Kringle’s because I’m classy and thoughtful enough to consider that apps would ensure they wouldn’t have to bone on a full stomach.
Maybe I missed my calling as a matchmaker...
I parked my car a block away and wrapped my scarf around my neck twice before pulling the hood of my jacket up and zipping it all the way so that it covered my chin. I wasn’t prepared for how cold being a spying wingwoman would be. But that didn’t stop me from lurking on the sidewalk across the street as I perched on the stonePolar Express–shaped bench across from Kringle’s.
I held my phone up as though I were reading or scrolling, but in reality, I was using the zoom on my camera to scope out Isaac and his date.
Matt sat with his body swiveled toward Isaac, one foot braced on the stool and the other on the metal pole footrest jutting out from the dark cherry wood of the bar. Isaac, on the other hand, sat hunched over his double pour of scotch as he intermittently nodded. His body language was all wrong! I wanted to swoop in and position him like my own personal doll. He’d never trap a muse like that.
Or maybe he would! A muse would be attracted to the brooding artist thing, right? And Isaac was as broody as they came.
The corner of Isaac’s lip turned up for a brief second before my camera view was interrupted by a text.
Mr.Big Important Man Charlie:Now a good time to call?
I growled as I exited out of my camera and opened his messages. Our last text exchange was from thirteen months ago. It started with a text from me. A very unfortunate text.
Me:Hey big brother. I am drunk and you know what would be cool? If we were normal siblings who could give each other rides home from the bar.
Mr.Big Important Man Charlie:Should I send a car?
Me:Only if you’re sending it up your butt.
Ah, yes. Not my finest moment.
Not really, I typed back to him.I’m working.
And then, because my older brother brought out the pettiest side of me, I added:Hi! How are you? Me? I’m great. Thriving in fact! So nice to catch up!
Mr.Big Important Man Charlie:I’ll try you again later.
“More like never,” I mumbled to myself. It was like I was seventeen all over again and we were screaming at each other from across the house, him slamming doors as I stomped off. The sound of slamming doors had always made me flinch.
Dread began to bloom in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t want anything to do with Charlie. Our parents would hate to see us now, but I had to believe that they would understand. Or maybe they wouldn’t be surprised. It wasn’t like I’d been the golden child growing up. Not like Charlie.
I sat there for a moment studying my texts and Charlie’s always chilly responses. Our messages were sporadic enough that I could scroll back years and even see the last times we’d wished each other happy birthday or sent a happy Hanukkah or merry Christmas.
