“Bunnies. Puck bunnies.”
“Yeah, he can bring them in through the back.” I take a drink of my beer, trying not to laugh at how annoyed he is. Coop picks up the nearest pillow and throws it at me. I’m not surprised by how hard it hits me, but sometimes I forget he could have been a pro pitcher instead of a big shot Hollywood actor.
“What are you laughing at, Bart?”
“Don’t call me that, dickhead.” I throw the pillow back lazily. “I’m laughing at the thought of one of your little sleepover girls running into Dev’spuck bunnyin the kitchen at three in the damn morning.”
“Fuck no! Wait, shit, it really could happen,” He yells, then stops and snickers. “Dude, remember that time that smokin’ hot redhead came home with me after an audition and accidentally went into Steve’s room instead of mine while Andy was over?”
“Yeah, I’d never heard Andy scream so loud. I have no idea how the three of us survived that roommate situation. I love you guys, but I sure as hell don’t miss living with you. Plus, your little brother has that whole cute puppy dog thing down, so if you lose a date in his room, she’s not coming back to yours. No chance.”
“Oh, whatever, he’d probably take her to breakfast and drive her home after she sees his race car bed.” He laughs loudly. Poor kid is in his twenties now and we still don’t let up about the race car bed. “Besides, I haven’t had a date in—SON OF A BITCH! Stop changing the subject!”
He turns off the TV, tosses the remote to the side, and stands there with one hand on his hip and the other holding a beer. He points the beer bottle at me. “Fuckface! I’m gone like a month and I come back to you being…you! Like old you! Grouchy but fun, whatever, YOU! I want phone numbers. I want pictures! I want ring sizes! Please tell me who she is!”
“Chase, fuck off! I’m trying to watch the damn game! Besides, what if therapy is working, and it has nothing to do with a woman?”
“You’re a terrible fuckin’ liar!” His eyebrows shoot up. “Wait a fuckin’ minute! Is she one of my exes? Are you railing one of my exes and that’s why you won’t tell me? I mean, I don’t mind if you are or whatever but?—”
“You couldn’t name the last five women you slept with, let alone pick them out of a lineup.” I’m treading on dangerous ground here. If I’m honest, Chase hasn’t had a girlfriend in two years, but there’s a reason for it. Steve sets him up with women all the time, but it never goes anywhere because Steve isn’t the best judge of character. His idea of getting someone back into the dating game is having him fuck anything with a pulse. It failed for me, and it continues to fail for Chase. He takes them to dinner and tells them he had a terrific time, but he’s not interested. A few slip through his defenses and come home with him. As an apology for not being ready for a relationship, he always sends them gifts. “To answer your question, no. She’s not one of your exes. There are still a handful of women in Los Angeles that haven’t gone to bed with you or Steve.”
“Yeah right!” The shout comes from the front of the house as the door slams shut. “Wait, who’s sleeping with who? Sharing is caring. We discussed this!”
“You’re disgusting, Steve,” I shout back. Some days I wonder how the hell we’re all friends.
“Stevie, get the fuck in here. This prick has a girlfriend and he won’t tell me anything! I need backup!”
“She’s not…my girlfriend!” I yell back, but I’m not sure if that’s true or not. We didn’t give each other titles, at least not officially. It seems unnecessary with everything we’ve done already. I pull my phone out and check for messages—nothing from her. My fingers hover over our text exchange and I wonder if I should message her and ask. Maybe we’re friends with benefits. It could be a temporary hookup. Neither of those outcomes is ideal, but I told her I would be okay with whatever she decided. I asked her, but that was in the middle of fucking her brains out. I’m overthinking this, and I’m way too high.
“AH HA! She! Ashewho fixed you! I wanna meet she—uhm—her. Shit, that sounded cooler in my head.” Coop paces the room as he shouts.
“Dude, you’re fucking wasted,” Steve imparts his incredible wisdom as he joins us with two more packs of beer. “Move over, Barton. I need to catch up. What’s going on and why isn’t the game on? Did they pull Dev already?”
“No, Columbo just shut it off so he could drill me.”
“You’re not old enough to be making Columbo references, man,” Steve laughs as pops the top on a beer and starts setting up a fresh bowl to smoke. “Alright, put little Coop back on TV!”
“Hollywood,” Coop says from across the room. “As soon as people found out he’s my brother, the team started calling him Hollywood, and it stuck. He’s getting a mask done up with a Hollywood theme.”
“Well, then turn fuckingHollywoodback on!”
“Hollywood? Come on, Mini Cooper is way cooler and would get him an endorsement deal,” I grumble, handing my lighter to Steve in exchange for a fresh beer.
Coop turns the TV back on and drops back onto the couch, disrupting Lulu, who was sleeping peacefully and is now just staring at him with her tongue sticking out. I love that dog, but she’s the biggest derp I’ve ever met.
The three of us settle back into our longstanding tradition. Coop goes off to a shoot or a ceremony and when he comes back, I remind him he’s a normal person by eating pizza, getting blazed, and watching Devin play. If Devin wasn’t playing, it would be video games. Steve reminds him he’s a playboy by trying to get him to go out and fuck every woman in LA. It’s a very delicate line, and we’re here to push him off the high wire and laugh when he falls. Brothers.
I check my phone again, and there’s still nothing. If she’s not texting, she’s presumably okay, still I can’t help but worry after meeting her parents. I pull up a local flower shop I’ve used on photo shoots before because the owner is nice. I found them a few years ago while I was working at a wedding. As I scroll through, I realize I have no idea what kinds of flowers to get her.
“Dude, are you…NO SHIT! FLOWERS? Oh, fuck!” Steve screams with laughter. “We’ve got flowers, Coop!”
I watch the end of the game while my two best friends annoy the living shit out of me, then I go out to the back patio. It’s still early, but I’m getting antsy, so I call Lexi and leave her a voicemail. I feel like an absolute idiot as I talk, trying to listen and make sure the guys don’t come out and interrupt. She doesn’t need to hear these two morons—not yet, anyhow. When I hang up, my phone vibrates and my heart leaps out of my chest, but then I see it’s only the flower shop confirming that they dropped off the delivery.
“Hey man.” Steve pokes his head out, clearly buzzed. “We’re going to the bar. Come on. We should bring Pongo! PONGO! HELP US PICK UP CHICKS!”
“Coop has a bar,” I remind him as Pongo trots in from the other room. He’s a huge Pitbull with a heart of gold. He’s also Coop’s therapy dog—only about five people in the city know that. Steve constantly wants to take him out to the bars to attract women, but since Coop doesn’t need the world knowing he had a fucking breakdown two years ago, it’s hard to get the dog in. Money doesn’t always keep people from spilling your secrets for more money.
“Yeah, but we’re going to the other bar to pick up some lllllllladies.”
