10
* * *
Charlie
The mall is buzzingwith post-holiday shoppers. They’re all here to score a better deal, or to return a crock pot or a pair of socks they didn’t need or want.
Me? I’m just passing the time. Sam invited me to tag along and I’ve learned not to say no to my big sister. I sip my fruit smoothie and trail her around the mall, feigning interest in the towels she scored at 80% off.
“What is with you, Charlie? I mean, you’re not a shopper on the best of days, but you’re basically lethargic today. Matter of fact, you’ve been pretty blah since you got into town.”
“Wow, Sammy, don’t pull any punches. Tell me how you really feel.”
She rolls her eyes. “You want me to coddle you like Mom has been doing? Not gonna happen. Mom might be making all of your favorite meals this week because she’s so glad to see you, but that’s not my style. What’s going on?”
She pins me with her trademark gaze. I’m telling you, Sam could work for the Feds if she wanted. They’d be lucky to have her, but they’d have to lure her away from her kindergarteners, and I don’t see that happening any time soon.
Knowing how persistent she is, I give up and spill all the details--Brady’s indiscretions, my trip to work, my night with Trick, and the morning after. By the time I’ve finished my tale, Sam’s jaw is hanging open and my fruit smoothie is gone-- she stole it and drank it all.
“You left him?”
“I needed to come home.”
“Yea, for Christmas, not forever.”
“Whoa, that’s harsh, even for you, Sam.”
“I don’t mean to be harsh, but come on. You’re restless here. And it’s not just the location. You crave a fast-paced life, and though I love the Dinosaur, that ain’t it. I’ve seen you at that bar, Charlie. That’s your place. Those are your people. And Trick was eyeing you last summer when I visited. You were still with Brady then, God knows why, but Trick was clearly into you. And you know you’re into him-- don’t even deny it. You’ve mentioned his name 87 times this trip alone. Gah. Get thee to Maryland, Charlie. You belong there.”
And then, satisfied with dishing up advice and serving it, Sam wanders over to a pillow display. “Would these go on my couch?”
“Yes,” I reply. “But not the blue one, find another green one.”
We find the perfect pillows after what feels like hours but is probably only ten minutes. My brand-new phone buzzes in my pocket, and I grab it, hoping it’s Trick, though, admittedly, I’ve given him no reason to text me. Still, my sister decreed it and the stars are aligning and I look at the screen and frown.
It’s Brady.
Again.
Ugh.
Knowing he won’t stop texting, I hit the call button and tell Sam I’ll meet her at the food court. I walk in that direction as the phone rings. I’m just about to leave a message when I hear Brady on the line.
“Hey, Charlie. What’s up?” He sounds breathless.
“What’s up? You texted me like a gazillion times, so I figured I’d call to see what you need.
“Oh, yeah, listen, now’s a bad time, but…”
What the hell? Is he exercising? “Why are you out of breath? And what do you mean it’s not a good time? You texted me literally a minute ago.” I barely finish my sentence before I hear a breathy whimper on the line.
And Brady does not whimper.
Holy hell.
“Oh my God, Brady. Are you actually having sex right now? You answered the phone while you’re fucking someone? You are such a train wreck.”
“Jesus, Charlie, stop yelling. I’m just---” he pauses as the sex noises get progressively louder.
