Page 46 of Tequila Tuesdays
When I walked out of the courthouse that afternoon, I called Frankie. She didn’t answer, so I called her mother. She didn’t answer either, so I left a voice message.
Then I texted Jaime and Tiana and asked if they’d heard or knew anything about her. I felt guilty for reaching out to them, but they had better contacts than I did.
On Friday, Laurel brought Martina with her to our Friday potluck luncheon with my law partners. Martina brought tres leches cake, a bottle of tequila, and a lime as her contribution. Sariah scrounged around in the community breakroom and found little packets of salt.
It seemed like I wasn’t the only one who’d had a rough week, and after a couple of shots, we were all good and buzzed.
“So, you’re Sebastian’s cousin?” I asked Martina with one eye closed. Laurel had just mentioned that fact, and I was having a hard time processing it.
“Uh-huh,” she drawled out.
I stared at her some more, then shook my head. “I can’t picture it. You’re nice, and funny, and friendly.” And crazy, but I wasn’t buzzed enough to say that out loud.
Laurel laughed. “I said basically the same thing when Sebastian told me.”
“What’s the deal with you and Damien?” Martina asked.
“What? Why do you ask? Nothing.”
Yun and Sariah both perked up.
“Who’s Damien?” Sariah asked.
I dug into my cake. “No one.”
Yun slapped the table. “Harley hasn’t dated one guy since she moved to Palm Springs. Not one.” She stuck her index finger in my face.
Laurel grinned and put her elbows on the table. “Do you know how they met?”
I leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, God. Here we go.”
For the next fifteen minutes, Martina and Laurel told Yun and Sariah about how Damien and I first met, how hot he was, and how cute we’d be together. I wanted to bang my head against the conference table. Luckily Sariah’s husband stopped by, and the party broke up.
I knew it was a brief reprieve because Laurel and Martina had invited me over for dinner that night so we could plan our camping trip. After metabolizing the tequila shots by taking Gary on a long walk and drinking lots of water, I got cleaned up for the evening and made crispy broccolini with bacon bits as my contribution to dinner. I felt tired and a little sluggish, but I’d done it to myself by drinking in the middle of the day.
When I got to Laurel’s house, Damien’s white Ford Raptor was parked outside along with a couple of other vehicles. When I rang the doorbell, a kid around four or five years old answered the door. He wore a red cape, and nothing else.
“Well, hello. What kind of superhero are yousupposed to be?” I asked.
Laurel rushed into the foyer. “Lennie, you still have to wear pants, even if you have a cape on.” She sounded exasperated, like she’d told him this a thousand times.
Another boy, who looked a lot like Lennie except with straight hair, ran into the foyer. He had on a kickass cowboy hat. “Yeah, Lennie. We can still see your winky, remember?” he yelled. “Mom said if we can see your winky, you don’t got enough clothes on.”
“But I don’t like the way clothes feel on my winky,” Lennie whined. He looked up at me, silently pleading for support.
“Hey, Lennie, I’m Harley. I don’t have a winky, but I’ve heard some guys don’t like to cover theirs either.”
His brother walked up and stood next to Lennie. “I’m Willie.” He put his hand on my leg and looked up at me with innocent blue eyes. “Haveyouseen a lot of winkies?”
I tried to suck in my startled laugh and choked a little. His name made our discussion about winkies that much more unfortunate.
I looked at Laurel for help, but she just held up her hands. I noticed Damien standing in the foyer entryway leaning against the wall. He was also trying not to laugh. I shot them both a dirty look.
Clearing my throat, I looked down at the twins. “No, Willie, I haven’t. People’s private places are important and… private.” Okay, that was lame. “And should be treated respectfully.”
“Yeah, Laurel told us about our private squares. It’s a private circle though,” Lennie answered, gesturing in a circle around his waist area.
“Nuh-uh, they’re private triangles,” Willie contradicted loudly.
