“We’re not interested,” I said through my doorbell camera.
The man jumped, then glanced back toward the large box truck at the bottom of my driveway.
“Ma’am, hi, this is Dave from Dave’s Pools and Spas. I have a delivery for you.”
I wrinkled my nose. “What is it? I don’t have a pool.”
“It’s a,” he checked his clipboard, “new hot tub for you. Nicest one we’ve got, actually. And the regular maintenance program too.”
“There must be some mistake,” I tried.
“A Harlan Royce sent it,” he said. “Think he’s on the local soccer team or something. A goalie. He was weird.”
Ah, yes. That other mustachioed man. I picked up my phone to text him.
EMMA
I’m not accepting a hot tub
HARLAN
That’s good because it’s a whirlpool jacuzzi
EMMA
I’m not accepting a whirlpool jacuzzi then
HARLAN
I’m showing you how nice I can be
EMMA
You’re not on the prison slop list. Take the thing back.
HARLAN
I don’t want you to be in pain. You won’t get in my hot tub, so I got you your own
“Ma’am?” Dave from Dave’s Pools and Spas said. “I was instructed that if you don’t accept it, we’re to leave it on your lawn.”
“Isn’t that vandalism?” I tried. “Littering?”
Dave pulled at his collar, and I decided to have some mercy. Harlan Royce was not Dave’s fault. Harlan Royce was Harlan Royce’s fault.
“Never mind. I’ll come let you in.”
I knockedon Harlan’s door at the pre-appointed time.
“Hey, Chef.” Harlan was dressed in what I was starting to gather was his home uniform: white T-shirt, bare feet, gold chain, gray sweatpants, kitchen towel over the shoulder. Buttoday he was shifty, moving from foot to foot and not meeting my eyes.
I looked around as I stepped inside. “Am I interrupting something?”
He tugged at the crotch of his pants and ran his other hand through his hair. His response was winded. “No. No. Not at all.”
I knew this behavior. I had a teenage son, after all. It’s a normal and natural thing, and of course, I never gave Liam any shit about it. The one time I accidentally walked in on him, I apologized profusely and told him it was fine later. Now, I didn’t even go near his room if I thought such a thing might be happening.
But here, I didn’t know how to handle it. I was almost certain Harlan had just been participating in a private activity. But whereas with my son, I wanted to crawl in a hole and die a little, thinking about how Harlan had just been doingthatissued a surge of lust in my body. Was I imagining it, or did he smell like sex?
