Warm urine trickles down my crossed legs, saturating my socks and the insides of my shoes. As if that isn’t bad enough, I’m so shocked that I let go of the fucking rope and flip upside down. I’m now dangling in a harness by my beat-up, traitorous pussy, the remaining drops of pee working down my body with the force of gravity, splashing on my lip. I’m screaming and flailing, which is probably not the best course of action. Closing my eyes, I try to keep perfectly still so I don’t wiggle my way out of the harness that right now is literally my lifeline.
When I finally make it all the way across, there are tears streaming down my face, or hell, it could even be pee. At this point, who knows? This is truly the most frightening experience of my life, and all of these motherfuckers are laughing. “What the hell is wrong with y’all?” I shout. “I could have died! What if I’d slipped out of that harness? Huh? Would it be so funny then?”
The tour guide at the landing helps me back upright and unclips me from the zipper. “I’m never doing that shit again,” I announce, pushing past the guys.
“I have an extra change of clothes in my bag...if you’d like to change,” Evangeline offers.
“I love you, sweet child. I would kiss you, but my lips are full of piss. Got any wipes in that fanny pack of yours?”
“Well, at least one good thing will come of this,” Jeff announces.
“What’s that?” I ask, grabbing a handful of wipes to clean my face.
He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, mulling over whether or not he should say whatever smartass thing is running through that head of his. Of course, he makes the wrong decision. “I think it’s safe to say you no longer have to worry about being known as fart girl.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
JEFF
“ALL RIGHT YOU two, knock it off.” I glare at Evangeline and Landon with their tongues practically down each other’s throats. What the hell happened to no kissing? No one listens to me anymore. “Come on, Vangie, it’s time to go.”
“I can’t believe it’s over, Daddy,” she sobs. “This has been the best week of my life. I’m never going to see him again.” Is this the same kid who just seven days ago thought having to go on this trip was the worst thing to ever happen to her?
“You’ll live,” I grumble. “Take care, boys...Gina.” I wave and pull my crying girls over to the customs counter so we can be on our way.
The ride home is pure misery. Evangeline has somehow decided it’s my fault that the week has come to an end and is shooting me daggers from the passenger side of my truck. Willow is crying for her Gigi and Tyle, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, there’s a hollow feeling in my gut that just grows larger the farther we drive away.
“Well, this is depressing,” I grumble as I turn into the driveway of our house. Evangeline is still crying into her hands. Willow has managed to cry herself to sleep, but every few seconds lets out a sniffle.
“You don’t even care!” she shouts, throwing the door open. “I’m going to Savana’s.”
“That’s fine, but you owe me a clean room before you leave. Remember? Best daddy everrrrr!” I tease, trying to cheer her up.
Apparently, I know less than nothing about teenaged girls, because my attempt at humor only seems to further irritate her.
“I wish Mom was still alive,” she wails, jumping out of my truck and slamming the door.
I climb out after her, intercepting my daughter in the driveway before she runs inside to lock herself in her room. “That was a joke, Evangeline. I never expected you to actually clean your room.”
She sniffles, and I can feel her body tremble from where I’m holding her arm. “I really like him, Daddy.” What’s left of my heart shrivels up. My little girl has an honest-to-God broken heart, and I’m making fun of her over it.
Goddamn it. These girls need their mother. I don’t have what it takes to raise females. I’m going to screw them up so bad. “I’m sorry, princess.” I pull her in for a hug, kissing the top of her head. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“You think, maybe one day we can meet up for lunch or at a park or something?” she asks. My baby looks so hopeful that I can’t crush her with the truth, that we just live too far apart.
“I’m sure we can work something out eventually, honey.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” she says, throwing her arms around my neck.
“Sure thing. Go on inside and unpack and make sure it’s okay with Savana’s mom for you to come over. I’m gonna go get Willow out of the truck.”
§
“How was the trip?” My brother and business partner Victor asks, after we get Willow and his six-year-old son, Maddox to bed. He only has Maddox every other weekend—the product of a one-night stand. Often times they end up crashing at my place instead of his bachelor pad.
I scrub a hand over my face, leaning back in my recliner, and sigh. What a loaded question. “It was...interesting, to say the least. The girls ended up having a good time though, so that’s all that matters.”
“Let me guess? You stayed in the room the whole time wallowing in your misery. Dude...I can’t believe you went on a cruise with free babysitting and didn’t get trashed and fool around a little. Everyone knows singles go there to hook up.”
My God, he makes my head hurt. “I took my girls on a family vacation, Victor. It wasn’t about me.”
“It’s never about you, Jeff.”
Yeah, well. It’s always about him. I don’t say what I’m thinking, though. I’m not in the mood for a fight tonight. Instead, I proceed to fill him in on my series of unfortunate events, ending with the rapist dolphin.
My brother cracks up. “They say dolphins are sensitive creatures. He could probably sense how badly you needed to get laid. Even the fucking fish felt sorry for you, bruh.”
For some reason I choose to keep what happened with Tink and me to myself. It’s not like I’ll ever see her again, but I don’t want to cheapen what happened between us by bragging about it to this numbskull. Huh. Guess somewhere along the way she grew on me a little.
“Jeff. Yoohoo, Jeff,” my brother calls, snapping his fingers in front of my face.
“Yeah?”
“Where were you, man?”
I shake my head, bringing myself back to the present. “Just spaced for a sec. What’s up?”
“Why don’t you call that chick? The one you’ve been fucking...Go over to her place and bang one out? I got these kids under control.”
I can’t help but to laugh. “I bet you do...they’re passed out.”
He shrugs. “Then you know you can trust me.” He tips his hat like he’s doing me some great service then takes a long pull from his beer. “Don’t say I never did anything for ya.”
The thought of hooking up with anyone else right now makes me physically ill. It’s probably just because I’ve had more sex in the last week than the past three years. “I’m good, Vic. I’m really not in the mood.”
His mouth falls open in mock shock. “Not in the mood for fucking? How do we share the same DNA, little brother?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GINA
“WELL, IF IT ain’t Miss Pissypants herself,” Coop says, grabbing Kyle’s luggage from my hands and kissing my cheek.
“You told him!” I accuse, glaring at my best friend over his shoulder.
“She tells me everything.” His face crinkles up, and he shrugs his shoulders.
“Not everything,” Spence counters, walking up with her arms open wide for her little demon spawn. “My babies! I missed you so much. Did you have fun? Did Gina behave?”
What the—? “Um, aren’t you supposed to ask me if they behaved?”
“One would think,” Mrs. Elaine chimes, entering the room with one of the girls in her arms.
“Now don’t you start in on me too, old woman,” I warn my best friend’s mom, who is more of a mother to me than my own, as I walk over and kiss her cheek. Then I snatch the pretty little bundle from her arms. “Which on
e is this?” I ask, kissing her little forehead. My Lord, she smells good enough to eat. My insides turn all warm and gooey.
“Stop sniffing her,” Coop’s mom Nelly orders. “You might’ve picked up some germs on that ship.”
“Damn, you’re here too? What is this? A party? Is there booze?” I ask, trying to rile Cooper’s mother. “I could go for a margarita!”
“No drunk baby holding.” Nelly walks over and tries to pry my goddaughter from my arms, but I spin around like a ninja because I’ll be damned if she’s gonna stop me from finally getting the chance to love up on these babies.
“You sound like Jeffrey. I wasn’t really going to drink anything. Let me get my baby fix.” I walk away from the baby hog, hiding behind Spencer for protection.
“That’s Abigail,” my bestie says. “We’ve been dressing her in pink and Emmaline in yellow, ’til everyone can tell them apart.”
“That’s really smart.”
She nods. “Oh, and don’t think I didn’t catch that Jeffrey comment. Just fucking, my ass.”
“Wait!” Coop says, rising from where he’s crouched on the floor with Savage. “Is that...Can we? I hadn’t even thought of the back door.”
Spencer’s head whips around. “And you can just unthink it right now, mister.”
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that marriage is about sacrifice?”
“It’s really not that bad, Spence,” I encourage, not even trying to hide my laughter. “You’ll only bleed the first few times.”
“Y’all need Jesus,” Nelly says, ushering the boys out of the room and away from our entirely inappropriate conversation. I hear her muttering about what a bad influence I am, and how these children would likely be better off raised by wolves than the lot of us. But I don’t think we’re doing so bad. They’re the coolest little assholes I know.
“Yeah, I’m bleeding enough, thankyouverymuch,” my best friend says, heading for the living room.
“How’re your diaper changing skills now, Daddy-oh?” I ask Cooper as we trail behind Spencer to the living room. “You a pro yet?”
“Well, I haven’t sprayed either of them down with the hose, so that’s progress, right?”
A few years ago, he decided to break Savage out of daycare, and during his foray into babysitting, he experienced his first shit explosion diaper. It ended with the bed of his truck covered in poop, and Kyle soaked head to toe.
“Baby steps.”
“I’ve only puked twice,” he adds, all proud of himself.
§
“And there was this dolphin that had a snake swimming out of its butt. It almost ate Willow’s daddy!” Kyle gushes between bites of spaghetti.
“It wasn’t a snake,” Lake clarifies to all of the stupefied faces around the table. “It was his penis, and he was trying to mount Mr. Jeffrey.”
Mrs. Elaine crosses herself, mumbling a string of curses beneath her breath. The sign of the cross and a string of profanities… that about sums this woman up perfectly, God love her.
“Nuh-unh,” Kyle argues, slamming his little fist down on the table. “Willow said it was a snake, right, Auntie?” His little puppy dog eyes look to me for confirmation. Heat floods my cheeks as I debate the safest way to answer this.
“That is exactly what Willow said.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
GINA
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I let you two talk me into this,” I grumble, glaring at Mom and Dad, who are both eyeing me through the rearview mirror as we pull up behind a freaking Bentley at Uncle Ricky and Aunt Martha’s Victorian mansion. Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of someday living in a house like this in the Garden District: the ornate architecture and huge white columns, balconies and courtyards filled with the most beautiful gardens. The homes are like something straight from a fairytale. And even though I know I’ll never have the husband and children to make a house like this a home, I still wanted it. And I have Dillon Bourque to thank for snatching the rug right out from under my feet.
“You and Dillon were so close, honey. It’s been over two years. You need to get over it.”
“Get over it?” I growl. “That asshole ruined my career, Mom! He humiliated me...And not just me, but Spencer too. He didn’t even think about the two of us or what it would do to her children when he decided to—”
“Gina,” my father deadpans. “When that boy was screwing Clarissa Dubois, I guarantee you and Spencer were the last people on his mind. No offense.”
The proud grin on my father’s face has my blood boiling. Dillon never could do any wrong in his eyes. “It’s not funny, Dad. She was our client. What he did was not okay. He fucked her in our office!”
“Oh, come now, Gina. It’s a little funny.” I don’t think my mother has ever had an authentic thought, always echoing Dad’s opinions.
“Ugh,” I huff, climbing out of the back seat of my mother’s Camry. “He got the clinic shut down and destroyed my reputation. Excuse me if I don’t see the humor in that.” I will never forgive him. NOLA Sexual Health was my future. I had a job that I loved right in the heart of New Orleans. Thanks to his inability to keep his dick in his trousers, I lost it all.
“Fix your face,” Mom orders, rushing to my side. She looks ridiculous in her mermaid string bikini. I swear the woman lives to embarrass me. I just know she and Dad will be making out like fucking teenagers once they get a few drinks in. “Ricky is your father’s brother, and he and Martha adore you.” Her hand grips mine, halting my stride. “They’re so excited that you’ve decided to join us today. Don’t ruin it for them.”
“You have to let this go, Gina. You can’t continue to blame the man for doing what men do.”
My father is such a pig. “Daddy,” I say, yanking my wrist from my mother’s hold. “Don’t...Just don’t come at me with your chauvinistic crap today because I will Uber my ass right back home to Cedar Grove.”
“You’re awful—ummm—bitchy,” my mother whispers the last word. “Maybe Dillon could hook you up with one of his friends?” She smiles wide, her green eyes shining with mirth. “Just like old times.” Mom’s brows do a little bounce as she and my father both crack up laughing.
I can’t even count how many times I got busted fooling around with my older cousin’s friends. We really were a mess growing up. And to be honest, I do miss him. But I just may hate him more. Guess I’ll know the answer to that in a few minutes.
“Ginaaa!” my Aunt Martha squeals, shuffling out of the house to greet me. She wraps her toned arms around my chest, nearly squeezing the breath from my lungs.
“Hey, Aunt Martha.” I hug her back, and tears spring to my eyes. I didn’t realize just how much I missed her. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess. She smells of cookies and cakes. Martha is your classic fifties housewife. Her long blonde hair is in a perfect updo, her navy shift dress starched to perfection. I swear I’ve never seen the woman not put together. “Still baking?”
“You know it! I made a batch of your favorite cookies and hid a few from these vultures. Had to make sure my princess got hers.” She steps back, sliding her hands down my arms until she’s holding me by the fingers. Aunt Martha doesn’t even attempt to hide the tears spilling down her cheeks. “I missed you so much, child.”
“Me, too.” God, I feel like shit for not coming around to visit her. It’s not her fault her son’s a whore.
“He misses you too, you know,” she adds, sniffling.
A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow that bitch down, forcing a smile and a nod. I know he does. He’s called and left more messages than I can count. I’m just as stubborn as they come.
“Well, come on.” My aunt drops my hands and begins moving toward the door.
When I step into the foyer, I’m hit with a sense of nostalgia. I spent a few weeks of every summer in this house growing up. No matter how awful I was—and trust me I was a hot mess— I was always welcomed back with open arms.
“Gigi!” Uncle Ricky croons intercept
ing me on my trek to the kitchen. “So nice of you to grace us with your presence.”
“Missed you too, Uncle Ricky.” He lifts me clean off the ground, enveloping me in his big, burly arms, just like he used to when we were kids. My uncle is a mammoth of a man, standing six foot four. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him clean shaven and always loved to tease that I could braid the hair on his arms. He’s truly intimidating to look at, but I’ve never known a kinder soul. Uncle Ricky is a big, old teddy bear.
“Put me down,” I squeal as he throws me over his shoulder and carries me through the house, out the French doors, straight to the backyard. My ass feels so exposed, sticking up in the air like this. As I wriggle around in his arms, trying to tug my short pink dress to cover my exposed bathing suit bottom, we finally reach the pool, and he sets me on my feet right in front of that arrogant bastard Dillon.
“I hate you,” I whisper beneath my breath to Uncle Ricky, who’s got a shit grin from ear to fucking ear.
“Love you too, pumpkin.” He plants a kiss on the top of my head before announcing my presence. “Hey guys,” he says to the group of middle-aged men who were just deep in conversation with he who has been my sworn enemy for the last few years. “Most of you remember our little Gigi, right?”
A couple of heads bob, and I vaguely hear a few greetings. My attention is singularly focused on Mr. GQ himself, with his stupid muscles and too-pretty hair. If he weren’t so damned attractive none of this would have happened, and we could still be best friends.
Dillon’s bright blue eyes widen, as if he’s staring at a ghost. “Gina?”
“I haven’t changed that damn much,” I snark, trying to hide the overwhelming wave of emotion behind my signature sass.
He shakes his head with a laugh. “You haven’t changed a bit,” he agrees, setting his Bud Light on the table and scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, staring me right in the eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
Goddamn it. I’m not going to fucking cry in front of all these people. Deep breaths, Gina. Just as I’m about to cave, I spot a familiar face sitting across the wrought iron table from Dillon. An ex-client—none other than Clarissa Dubois. “What the hell is she doing here?”
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