Little Bro:Awwww, we’re giving them a joint gift?
Me:No, you’re just a procrastinating piece of shit, and I knew you’d try to find something last-minute.
Whore:And he’s too cheap to buy a gift himself. Don’t forget that.
Me:That too.
Little Bro:You both are jealous because my net worth is greater than yours, and I haven’t even tapped into my trust fund yet.
Whore:That’s because you’re a fucking moocher, and you don’t pay for shit.
Me:I concur.
Whore:You live at home, you drive Dad’s hand-me-down vehicle, you conveniently forget your wallet when you go out to eat, and someone picks up your tab, and when you travel with Ronan, Uncle Ant picks up all the expenses!
Little Bro:You sound jealous. I can’t help it if I’m fiscally responsible.
Me:You’re a user.
Little Bro:I’m the baby of the family. I should be taken care of.
Whore:How much did you clear last year?
Little Bro:That’s none of your business.
Whore:Tell me.
Little Bro:No.
Me:$8,278,111.23.
I exited the truck, laughing as Casey raged in the group chat about how spoiled Kieran was and how everyone, including myself, enabled him. I shrugged. I felt guilty for letting Kieranslide, but how could I tell him no when he gave me those big puppy dog eyes?
When I entered the house, my stomach tried to rip itself out of my body and hunt down the burgers. The smell of caramelized onions made my mouth water.
“I’m home!” I yelled, not wanting to startle Kiyah. She stressed the importance of announcing myself when I enter the room to avoid injury or death. I’d been told numerous times that I was too light on my feet and had been known to “slink around in the shadows.”
“Kitchen!”
I abandoned my briefcase, kicked my shoes off, and loosened my tie before entering the kitchen. Kiyah was slicing a beefsteak tomato with a blue-and-white checkered towel slung over her shoulder.
“Good evening,” I said, making her smile. She glanced up before returning her attention to the tomato.
“Always so formal,” she teased. “How was your day?”
“Long,” I mentioned, rounding the kitchen island in pursuit of affection. Kiyah abandoned the knife, placed a hand on the back of my neck, and tugged me down for a kiss. The stress of the day began to melt away as we became more engaged. My hands traveled down to her ass, and my fingers gripped the flesh through her cutoff shorts with unbridled need. I started walking her out of the kitchen, completely forgetting that food was on the stove.
“Grant. Don’t be ridiculous,” she whispered, trying to shove me away. My lips traveled from hers to her neck. I froze when I caught a whiff of something. I inhaled deeply, thinking I was confused, but no, it was there.
I pulled away and asked, “Why do you smell like another man?”
She seemed caught off guard. “What?”
I signed my question since she wanted to pretend she was deaf.
“Okay, trigger fingers. Calm down.”
“I’m not calming down until you tell me why you smell like another man,” I declared, still signing.