I watch as my maybe-wife kisses...
Jessica Coffin.
“EWWWWWWWW,” Shannon and Amanda squeal.
“I thought you were only pretend gay,” Marie says, clearly confused. “Mystery shop gay. You said—”
“That’s kind of hot,” Dec mutters.
“Oh, God,” Amanda moans. “I would never, ever, kiss Jessica Coffin!”
“I think you owe me an apology,” I inform Amanda.
“For what?”
“For being outraged that I kissed someone else.”
“But you did!”
“So did you!” I note.
“We both cheated.”
“Real cheating, too. Not just coffee cheating,” Shannon adds, giving Declan the side-eye.
“That’s not helping,” Amanda snaps. She reaches up to her lips. “I kissed Jessica Coffin!”
“Is that some tongue I see in there?” Marie asks, pulling a pair of reading glasses out of her purse and peering at the phone. She pauses the video, reaches into her purse, and adds a second set of glasses on top of the first.
We have lots of help, don’t we?
“Mom!”
“Amanda got to first base with Jessica,” Marie says in a mournful tone. “Maybe even second base. What’s your hand doing there?” she asks, pointing to the screen.
“Wait a minute,” Shannon says, taking the phone from her mother and making the picture bigger. “Hold on. That’s not Jessica Coffin.”
“It looks just like her,” Marie protests.
“But look. She has huge feet. And she’s taller than Andrew.”
I’m 6’ 3.”
“Even in heels, Jessica isn’t taller than me,” I note.
“And does Jessica have a shoulder tattoo?” Shannon asks, pointing.
“No,” I respond quickly.
Amanda frowns. “You know an awful lot about Jessica Coffin’s body.”
Declan shifts uncomfortably.
I give him a look that says, Don’t say a word.
My oldest brother, Terry appears. We might as well recreate the reception at this point. Jason stands and moves another table over to our crowd and I notice the big, white to-go cup in Terry’s hand.
Grind It Fresh!
Traitor.
“Amazing coffee, Dec! You’ve got a winner on your hands.” Coming from Terry’s deep voice, it sounds like an announcer at a sporting event.
He turns to me and says, “You were hilarious last night, Andrew. How late did you party with the drag queens?” Terry’s wearing a tie-dye shirt, shorts, and Birkenstocks. It’s like he’s trying to piss off Dad just by being.
“Drag queens? I kissed a drag queen?”
“You kissed about eight of them.”
“Maybe that explains your orange face?” Shannon asks. “Makeup?”
“No, we know the source of the orange,” Amanda mutters, then whispers in Shannon’s ear.
Shannon reels back. “Not drag queen makeup. Got it.” She stares intently at my mouth, then says to Amanda, “But wouldn’t it hurt, putting them inside you?”
Amanda pales.
“This video has gone viral by now, right?”
“Not this exact video, but—”
My phone buzzes.
It’s Dad.
“Oh, hell.” I ignore it.
“He’ll just have security track you down,” Declan chides.
I go cold.
“So what?” I jut my chin up in defiance. I am five years old. Damn it. Dec makes me feel like the helpless little brother, mercilessly under his thumb.
You cage someone too many times and they become feral in anticipation of being caged again.
Declan scoffs. “Don’t try that so what crap on me. You know damn well you care about Dad’s opinion. A little too much, Mr. CEO.”
“Is that what this is about? You’re jealous?” I snap.
“Jealous? Of you? Jealous of a guy who can’t break away from the one and only world he knows? Jealous of a guy who lives in fear of—”
“Of what?”
“Of everything.”
He’s such an asshole most of the time, but he’s also my best friend.
Which is the definition of brother for most guys.
“You are out of your mind! I’m not afraid of anything!”
Amanda and Shannon clear their throats simultaneously.
Feral, remember?
“Why would you be afraid of anything other than losing out on this fabulous time?” Terry asks, his voice in falsetto, waving my phone around, making Marie, Shannon, and Amanda giggle. I know what he’s doing. Dec knows what he’s doing. This is what Terry does.
Terry hates conflict.
Terry makes silly jokes.
“I remember seeing you at the gift table with Amanda, and you grabbed a bottle of homeopathic wine that was just sitting there,” Terry says, eyes lit up with amusement. He looks so much like our mother for a moment that I have to look away.
Shannon’s oldest sister, Carol, appears, smiling at Marie, carrying a coffee from—oh, hell, they’re all just drinking coffees from Dec and Shannon’s new chain.
Grind it in, why don’t you.
Grind it nice and fresh.
“Where are Jeffrey and Tyler?” Marie asks. Carol’s sons are ten and seven, I think. Not sure. Something like that. I’m not their uncle, and all kids look a lot alike to me. I assume that changes when you have your own. It’s like buying a new car. You don’t really notice all the identical makes and models until you have one you call mine.
And one you have to maintain to make it function properly.