"There was only one egging in our old neighborhood," I protest.
"No Hot Neighbor," Noah growls.
"No Hot Neighbor," I say, my tone insincere because I'm already thinking about how I can get Hot Neighbor in the sack. "I swear."
"Aiden Paul Jackson, I swear to God I will kill you!" Annie's voice echoes loudly through the house over the speaker on the phone, and I hold it away from me, not even bothering to try to hide my laughter. I know exactly why my sister is calling me.
Noah looks up from the sofa, where he's sprawled across the entire length, scrolling through something – probably some boring article on the economy - on his tablet. "I told you it was a bad idea. You were really asking for it this year."
"You knew about this, Noah?" Annie squeals. "Why did you let him?"
"Annie Banannie!" I interrupt. "Did you think I was going to let a birthday go unnoticed? What kind of a big brother would I be? Admit it. You'd be upset if I didn't do it!"
"Noah," Annie sighs exasperatedly. "Tell Aiden I'm not talking to someone who sends a human banana to my workplace for my twenty-first birthday."
"You work at a bar," I protest. "It's probably not the first time a singing banana has shown up there."
"It's a restaurant," Annie argues. "And you promised you wouldn't do it this year."
"It's your twenty-first birthday!" I protest. "Noah, explain in reasonable terms to Annie that tradition requires the singing banana and there’s nothing that can be done about it. You can’t buck tradition, Annie.”
"This one tap-danced, Aiden. That's completely over the line."
Noah snorts. "I'm not getting involved in this argument."
"Look, do you know how hard it is to find a tap-dancing banana in Colorado Springs?" I ask. "I thought nothing was going to top last year's banana, but it did, didn't it? Tell me it did. They promised a good video of it, but the clip I got was kind of grainy and I didn't get the expression on your face."
Annie groans in frustration. “You guys are such children.”
"At least a banana in a bikini didn't pop out of a giant cake the way it did for your birthday last year, Annie," Noah points out helpfully. "He really toned it down this year."
"The banana had backup dancers," Annie protests. "With instruments. It was practically a marching band of bananas."
"Well, you needed a reason to get good and drunk on your twenty-first birthday, right?" Noah points out. "Your brother's embarrassing sense of humor is a good excuse."
"You mean the way my brother continues to emotionally scar me?”
“Are you seeing a counselor at college?” I ask. “I have lots of money. I can pay for a good shrink.”
Annie ignores me. “Noah, did you know about the bodyguard?”
Noah cocks his head to the side as he looks at me. “Really, Aiden?”
“Like I’m going to let my kid sister go out with her girlfriends and get shitfaced with no protection?”
“We had condoms!” Annie yells.
I shout to drown out her words. “Ahh! What the hell, Annie?? I don’t need to know about that.”
"Were the bananas the bodyguards?" Noah interrupts.
"No. Unfortunately, the bodyguard refused to put on a banana outfit and sing or tap-dance, so I had to use two separate companies. You really can't find good talent these days."
Noah snorts as he gives me a onceover. "Truer words have never been spoken."
“I feel like that’s some kind of commentary about me, but I’m going to ignore it. I told you I was sending someone, Annie. He was basically a designated driver. You should be thanking me."
"You totally cock-blocked me, Aiden!" she squeals. "Noah, tell him!"
"Okay, first of all, I'd like to go through the rest of my life without hearing my sister use the term 'cock-blocked' ever again, thank you," I point out. "And second of all, I don't see how me sending a bodyguard out to bars with you had any negative impact on your evening other than getting you all home safely."
"No one wants to hit on girls surrounded by thugs in suits," Annie protests. "Noah, back me up here."
"Well, I'm sorry that no guy was man enough to hit on you despite the suits," I say, shaking my head and mouthing "not sorry at all" across the room at Noah.
"You're so annoying, Aiden," she tells me.
"Admit that your birthday wouldn't have been the same without the banana."
The banana has been an annual tradition since ninth grade in high school when I rented a banana outfit to sing Happy Birthday to Annie during a sleepover with all of her friends. Totally worth using two weeks of the money I earned mowing lawns. She was annoyed by it, which only encouraged me to do it again the next year – and then every year after that. It's been my mission to top the banana experience each time. It's practically my brotherly duty.
She sighs loudly. "Fine. It wouldn't be the same without the banana. But seriously, you're going to eventually run out of ways to embarrass me, dude."
"That'll never happen, Annie Banannie.”
"Yeah, he'll always be naturally embarrassing," Noah jumps in. "Happy birthday, by the way."
"That's true," I add. "Sorry. You're stuck with being humiliated forever, just because you're related to me."
Annie groans. "Great. Thanks for giving me something to look forward for the rest of my life." She sighs loudly, then her voice softens. “Besides, I guess mom always did think the banana was funny.”
Noah clears his throat and stands up, taking Annie's mention of our mother as his cue to leave. “I have to get going. My gift is in the mail, kiddo.”
“I hope it’s not a banana!” Annie yells.
“You only have to worry about that from your brother,” he says before walking out of the room.
I take Annie off speaker, putting the phone to my ear as I walk upstairs. "You didn’t have a shit time on your birthday, did you, kid?”
“You know it’s always hard without mom around,” she says.
“I can't really stop doing the banana thing now, you realize. It wouldn’t be right.”
Annie is silent for a minute. "I know. You’re not missing dinner at Mama Ashby’s next week, are you? She’s going to be pissed off if you do. You missed it last month.”
“No way. I’m there,” I assure her. “I’ll give you my real birthday present then.”
“Oh, you have something for me other than a marching band of bananas?”
“Yep. But it has to be delivered in person.”
“I’m scared to ask why. If it’s a snake, spider, scorpion, or an insect of any kind, I’m never speaking to you again.”
“I’m sad that you question my gift-giving ability.”
“You gave me a snake in a shoebox when I was nine, Aiden.”
“Mom freaked when it got loose.” I laugh at the memory of my mother holding a broom and standing on a chair in the middle of the kitchen, yelling for my sister and I to rescue her from the snake.
“Yeah.” Annie’s voice is wistful.
“Love you, Anna Banana."
Annie sighs exasperatedly. "I know, A-hole."
12
Grace
I down several gulps of water from my bottle, my heart still racing after my run while Vi updates me over the phone on the latest developments in her business life.
"I'm on my way to Miami," Vi informs me. "I’m looking at samples for the new line.”
Last year, Vi developed her own resort wear line of clothing inspired by places she’s traveled around the world. She got good reviews and after a big Hollywood celebrity was photographed wearing one of her designs, she was put in some exclusive boutiques in Miami.
“Send me photos?”
“Top Secret photos,” she says. “I’m in Miami for a week, unless you’d like me to stay in Denver to help make sure you take advantage of the whole two hot guys situation."
"You're such a generous person. But I'll pass, since there will be no ‘taking advantage of two hot guys’."
Vi sighs exaggeratedly. "I saw you with one of those two hot guys, and trust me, Noah Ashby looked like he would be more than happy to be taken advantage of, specifically by you."
"Nothing is going to happen between me and Noah Ashby, Vi –"
"You heard your father. He wants you to milk that football player for an endorsement."
"Is that an innuendo? Because if it is, I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."
Vi laughs. "I give the both of you a week at the ranch before Noah Ashby has you bent over a fence.”
"Who says Noah Ashby is even going to the ranch?" Suddenly, I'm suddenly distracted by a loud buzzing noise. "What the hell?"
A remote-controlled helicopter appears above the wall between my house and the neighbor's, a plastic object dangling from it. Oh my God. "Is that a… blow-up doll?"
"Where? What's going on? Is this your neighbor's blow up doll we're talking about?" Vi asks.
As if there are any other blow-up dolls in my life.
But I'm too preoccupied with what's happening to immediately answer. I watch the helicopter hover above the wall just inside my backyard, the plastic doll dangling from it with limbs askew.
"I'm not entirely sure what's happening…"
I don't get to finish my sentence before the crack of a gunshot pierces the air. The helicopter bursts into pieces, and the blow-up figurine zigs and zags erratically back and forth a few times before collapsing into a heap on the grass. I turn, my mouth wide open as Brooks materializes in the backyard, giving orders into her earpiece. "Get inside the house, ma'am," she commands.
"Brooks, you realize that’s just the neighbor's –"
"Step back inside the house, ma'am."
"What's going on, Grace? Was that a gunshot?" Vi asks. "Are you okay?"
I step inside the kitchen, closing the French doors and watching Brooks intently. "I'm fine. It's not me who’s being shot at. Brooks shot a toy helicopter… or maybe the blow-up doll. I'm not sure. It might have taken down both."
"What?" Vi asks, laughing. "A toy helicopter and a blow-up doll? What the hell is happening at your house?"
"I'm not sure, but I'm going to find out," I answer, crossing through the house to the front door. Brooks might have told me to stay inside, but she can't be everywhere at all times. "I think the neighbor flew a toy helicopter into the yard."
"And your security detail shot it down?" Vi asks. "How exciting. Wait, what does the blow-up doll have to do with it?"
"Vi, I'll call you back."
"No way! Put me on speaker! I want to hear what's going on," Vi begs.
"Um…” I say, distracted by the insanity of what just happened. “I need to talk to Brooks and Davis."
"Grace Monroe Sullivan, if you cut me out of the drama, I swear I’m going to ditch Miami and show up at your front door!" Vi yells just before I hang up.
I make it down the driveway to the gate before Brooks spots me, following down the driveway behind me at a fast clip. "Ma'am, I told you to stay in the house."
"Why?" I ask. "Because you think there was an assassination attempt made on me by a remote-controlled helicopter and a blow-up doll? Really? Death by blow-up doll?" I ignore her order, pushing open the gate to find Davis outside.
With Aiden.
Aiden has his hands over his head and his palms pressed against the stone wall in front of our houses. For a second, I just pause, sucking in a deep breath as I gape at him. He's shirtless, of course – at this point, I'm not convinced the man actually owns any shirts - his rippled back muscles on full display. It’s the most distracting thing I’ve ever seen. When he sees me, he grins. "Well, sugar, I have to tell you, I'm disappointed to be getting felt up by your security guard and not you." He looks over his shoulder at Davis. "Would you mind trading places with her real quick?"
In response, Davis puts a hand firmly in the middle of his back, pushing him harder against the wall. "Shut your mouth."
"Davis!" I protest. "Come on. Be reasonable here. He's obviously not trying to kill me."
"Kill you?" Aiden asks. "Why would I be trying to kill you? I was just trying to get your attention."
"You were trying to get her attention by flying a sex doll into her yard? Yeah, you're a real Romeo," Davis says.
"The bomb squad will be here to check for chemical weapons in a minute," Brooks notes.
"What the hell are you talking about?" blurts Aiden. "Chemical weapons? Are you insane? That was a joke. It's a blow-up doll, for shit's sake."
"Seriously, Brooks. Chemical weapons? Do we really need all the hoopla?” I ask. I think my voice might have gone up a full octave. “You know this is nothing. Let's not be completely ridiculous here."
"This is not nothing. This is protocol, ma'am,” Brooks asserts, her tone forceful. She looks at me, her expression entirely devoid of humor. “Someone flew a drone into your backyard with a plastic inflatable object attached that could be carrying anything – chemical weapons, drugs, a bomb - ”
“A bomb?” Aiden yells. “Why would I fly a bomb into the backyard of a hot girl I want to bed? Seriously, who the hell are you?”
I cock my head to the side and look at Brooks, raising my eyebrows for emphasis. "Does my neighbor look like a criminal mastermind? He doesn't even know who I am, Brooks."
"You shot my freaking drone!" Aiden shouts.
Did he just say I was hot and that he wanted to bed me?
"What the hell is going on?" a familiar voice calls out, and I look up to see Noah Ashby materialize at the end of Aiden's driveway a few yards away.
Everything is so chaotic that I don’t have time to process what the hell Noah is doing in my neighbor’s driveway – because said neighbor is currently being frisked by my security detail. This incident is really not going to go over well with the homeowner's association, who I had to assure that there would be no security issues related to me living in this neighborhood. Up until now, there had been none.
"What the hell did you do? Why are you being arrested?" Noah asks, focused momentarily on Aiden, who’s being placed in handcuffs. Then he looks up at me, and his eyes go wide.
"What are you doing here?" he and I ask each other at the same time.
"This ain’t the first time I’ve been in cuffs, if you know what I mean,” Aiden deadpans, still not taking any of this seriously. “Wait, how do you two know each other?"
"I met Grace at the event the other night," Noah says, his eyes never leaving my face.
"Wait a second. This is the girl you paid a hundred thousand dollars to grope?" Aiden asks, his jaw dropping.
"What?!" I squeal. "You told him you paid money to grope me?"
Noah holds his hand up. "Wait, wait, wait. That is not what I said happened. At all. I said I groped you, but I didn't pay anything. I mean, before I groped you."
I put my hands on my hips. "Oh, so you just told him you groped me for free, then?"
"Aw, shit. This isn't coming out right at all," Noah says, groaning loudly.
"What do you mean you didn't pay anything before you groped me? You paid something after?"
"I paid to delete the photos, not to grope you!" Noah says loudly. "I don't think you're a hooker."
"Thanks for not thinking I'm a hooker," I reply sarcastically. "You paid a hundred thousand dollars to get those photos back?"
I don't have time to think about that before Aiden interrupts. "You said you groped an ugly chick, not Hot Neighbor!"
"An ugly chick?" I blurt.
I look back and forth between the two of them, my heart pounding in my chest. How pathetic am I, thinking two hot guys might be interested in me, when they're clearly both clearly insane?
"I didn't call her ugly!" Noah bellows. "You're the moron who assumed that the President's daughter was ugly."
"On second thought, Brooks, the whole testing for chemical weapons thing is totally fine with me," I huff, crossing my arms.
"Wait. You're the President's daughter?" Aiden asks.
> I should be so pissed off right now. After all, I think one of these guys called me ugly, the other might actually think that I'm a prostitute, and in a minute there will be bomb squad guys crawling all over my yard. Then I'm going to get a call from my father, and I'm going to have to explain that my neighbor, who has the sense of humor of a twelve-year-old boy, flew a drone with a blow-up doll dangling from it over my backyard.
But instead of storming off, I just stand there staring at the two men, who are clearly pissed off at each other. Then I glance at Brooks and Davis, who are taking this whole event entirely too seriously. I can see the news reports already: "President's Daughter and Her Sex Drone! Live at Eleven!"
I can’t help it. Laughter begins to bubble up in my chest, overflowing as I try to stifle it by putting my hand over my mouth. There's nothing I can do to contain it. The entire situation – not even this situation, but all of the past encounters I’ve had with Aiden Jackson and Noah Ashby – is ridiculous. But this most recent incident takes the cake. It is absolutely the most insane thing that's ever happened to me. So instead of answering Aiden's question, instead of saying, “Yes, I'm the President's daughter and this is a situation I can't be involved in,” I start giggling. Loudly.
Like a crazy person.
The problem is that once I start, I can't stop. And no one else is laughing. They're just staring at me like they're trying to figure out where they might be able to locate the nearest straitjacket.
"Ma'am?" Brooks asks. "Are you okay?"
"Did you put something in the blow-up doll that's doing this to her?" Davis asks. The fact that she thinks it's plausible I'm laughing because of some kind of chemical weapon makes me laugh even harder.
"You mean, did I fill the doll up with laughing gas?" Aiden asks.
Now, I hoot. Loudly. I think there are tears coming out of my eyes.
"Shut up, dumbass," Davis says, pressing her hand into the middle of his back again for emphasis. "This is the President's daughter you're talking about. You flew a drone into Grace Sullivan's backyard. Why the hell did you think you were getting patted down, anyway?"
Double Team: A Menage Romance Page 8