“Listen, asshole, I make no apologies for who I am and what I like. And if a woman can’t deal with a little Star Wars, then she’s not the woman for me, anyway.”
“That’s precious, Simon. Is that a direct quote from your mother or did you paraphrase?”
“Bite me.”
“Later. You’re probably a little sore from last night. So, what’s theory number two?” Nick grabs another slice.
“It’s a little weak as well, but I’m figuring she freaked out about morning-after etiquette and fled. But if that’s the case, why leave town? Why the hasty exit to the spa?”
“Agreed. So, theory number three?”
“She’s a little older than I am, and I think it freaks her out. I thought she came to terms with it, but I’m thinking I miscalculated.”
“A little older or a lot older?” Dunc interrupts. “Not that it matters. Look at Jennifer Aniston. Chick’s like 50 and hot as fuck. And don’t tell your sister I said someone else was hot as fuck.” He grabs a slice of pizza and attempts to give me a death glare of doom, or some shit. But Dunc’s got one of those baby faces, so he really just looks like a pissed off toddler.
“I like to keep all of my sisters and the words ‘hot as fuck’ as separate as humanly possible, Dunc, so you’re safe.” He salutes me with the pizza slice.
“And you’re avoiding the question, Simon.”
“Your dad was right, Nick. You really should have been a lawyer.”
“Somehow, I doubt the neck tats would impress in a court of law. Anyway, now it’s your turn to fucking focus. How old? As old as the three of us or a contemporary of Jen’s?”
“Uh, split the difference? She’s 35. I think. Or she’ll be 35 in December sometime, I’m not sure which.”
“Seriously?” Nick’s laughing. Actually laughing. What the hell?
“No, I’m joking. She’s actually 84. What the hell? And how is 35 funny?”
Nick can tell I’m pissed, and he has the good sense to look sheepish. He clears his throat and takes a pull of beer.
“Dude, sorry. Seriously. It’s not funny, and it’s not a big deal. It’s just that, shit. Sometimes, you’re still that 15-year-old kid I met in college. I don’t know. I don’t want to get all parental and shit, but back me up here, guys. We started looking out for you almost ten years ago and that’s a tough habit to break. And seriously, when we were freshmen, you looked about 13.”
I glare, and Dunc laughs. “He’s got a point, Simon.”
“How? How does he have a point? How is that remotely relevant? I may have looked thirteen nine years ago, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am twenty-fucking-five years old right now. Fully legal to do just about anything, except run for president, but policy is not my gig, so my age is completely irrelevant.”
“Not to your girl, if your theory’s right,” Gav pipes up.
“So, how do I get her the hell over it?”
“For starters, I wouldn’t phrase it like that,” Dunc adds. “Ladies like to be wooed, you know. You gotta court her and shit. You gotta show her that you wanna see her again, and you don’t care about her age, so she shouldn’t either.”
“A little shy in the smooth department, but otherwise, solid advice. I’m impressed, Dunc.”
At Nick’s praise, Duncan beams, and now he’s on a roll, so he continues to dish up wisdom. “But to do that, you gotta get her attention. Set yourself apart, right?”
“Okay, how?”
“Send her a dick pic.”
“Christ. Do not send her a dick pic.” Nick glares at Dunc, his approval a thing of the past.
“What? Why? Don’t shit on my advice, Nicky.”
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: it’s a goddamn miracle you’re married. And to such a nice, normal girl, too. Si, was Bets always drawn to weirdos or did that start when she met our boy here?”
“I’m the youngest, so I can’t say for sure, but I’m betting she was dropped on her head in infancy.”
