The Other P-Word Page 11

  “They call it that because they serve chicken.”

  Stevie’s laughter dripped with cynicism. “They don’t call it that because of the girls who wear barely there tank tops and pink silk shorts with knee-high socks, riding around in roller skates?”

  Damien and Rick both choked back laughs. Adam turned toward them, his discomfort replaced with irritation. “I don’t pay attention to that. I’m only there for the food. But why don’t you ask Rick or Damien, since that’s where we usually have lunch after golf.”

  Rick rubbed his jaw, narrowing his eyes at Adam in the way that signified he was pissed and jovial in the same instance. “Shit, Adam, you throw too many people under the bus and we’re liable to lift it up and hock it right back at you, Superman-style.”

  Bobby ran around his dad in circles, starting a new chant, “Uncle Rick said—”

  “Don’t say it!” Mom and Stevie screamed.

  “Sorry, about that.”

  Stevie threw the paper airplane Dillon had made. Rick caught it in the air. “It’s okay, but you better start boarding the no swear train soon. These kids soak it up like chocolate milk on a sponge.”

  Despite the conversation, the tension lifted off us like a dispersing dark cloud. What a relief that things were getting to be normal around here again.

  “I go because I like the wings, that’s all,” Damien added.

  “It’s the wings you like, not the breasts and thighs?” Mom asked, cocking her head.

  “The girls in this family don’t practice what they preach,” Adam said.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I think all four of us said it at the same time.

  Adam kept his voice low, but it had power, like the movie announcer voice. “You call yourself feminists, yet you can’t support other women making a living? I say being a supporter of women means supporting all women. Sure, you guys root for the ladies who become CEOs or take up other high-paying occupations, but some girls just want to serve chicken in a skimpy outfit. What’s wrong with that? Who are we to judge them? Who are we to make them feel any less?” He made the impassioned speech as if a spotlight shone on him and he had theme music playing. Well, it sort of did, since he stood right under the living room chandelier and a rendition of Handel’s symphony played in the background. “If anything, I’m the true feminist around here.”

  “You?” Stevie asked.

  “Yes, because I truly believe a girl can be anything she wants to be.”

  “What?” Mom asked, cupping her hand over her ear. “I couldn’t hear you with that glass ceiling shattering above my head.”

  “Nice speech, Adam, but that place objectifies women,” Marley said.

  All of us girls, including Mom, did our signature tsking sound, which combined sounded like a chorus of disapproval, but it was all in jest and these guys knew it.

  Adam, though, had a habit of not backing down. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he and Stevie were such a great couple. He was the only one who could win a fight with her.

  “That’s an interesting double standard,” Adam said.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “Stevie, tell them your Internet handle.”

  “What do you mean, my handle?”

  “The name you use online.”

  “It’s Bobby’s proud mommy.”

  “Nah, not that one. I’m talking about the one you use when you don’t want the PTA moms to know what you’re up to.”

  Stevie looked around the table, perhaps hoping one of us would rescue her. It was a futile search. She sighed in defeat. “It’s Adam Levine’s secret lover five-zero-zero-two.”

  Everyone laughed, especially Marley, whose infectious giggle infected us all…except Stevie. “Keep laughing, Zac Efron girl number two-six-eight-zero.”

  Rick put his arm around her. “Seriously, Marley?”

  “What? He’s a great actor. I admire his body of work.”

  “His body of work…or just his body?” I asked.

  “Don’t start with me, Future Mrs. Charlie Hunnam six-zero-five-one.”

  Stevie took out her cell phone. “I thought your name was Robert Pattinson’s mistress one-zero-zero-one.”

  “I changed it.”

  “When? I’m going to have to add you back on.”

  When I met Evan. I hadn’t given it much thought, but they did resemble each other…sort of, but Evan was hotter.

  “What are you girls doing online that you need a secret identity?” Mom asked.

  Deciding to be our spokesperson, I took the lead. “We belong to a group of like-minded individuals who enjoy a certain genre of books. We have stimulating discussions, exchange ideas and attend virtual gatherings to celebrate these novels.”

  Adam snorted. “They also exchange pics of shirtless men in kilts. Talk about objectifying.”

  Stevie held up her hand. “Those men posed for the pictures. We’re just appreciating them.”

  “And these girls choose to wear skimpy shorts and tank tops when they serve chicken. I rest my case.”

  I had to admit he was pretty good at this.

  “What specific genre of novel?” Damien asked, a smirk on his face, no doubt trying to steer the topic.

  Adam answered before anyone else could. “The Fifty Shades genre.” He stood behind me, his palm circling the air above my head. “I blame this one, right here. She started it.”

  “Hey, I just lent them the books. I read them for research purposes.”

  “Research?”

  “I am writing a romance book, in case you’ve forgotten.” I tried to feign a reproachful look, but their scoffs made it clear none of them bought it.

  “Speaking about that, are you ever going to let us read it?” Marley asked.

  “Soon,” I said, although the thought of my family, even my sisters, reading my work scared the shit out of me. Stevie would be too blunt. Marley would be too nice. And my mom… Well, there were certain things you don’t want to think about your mom reading…my book was one of them.

  “Can’t wait,” Mom said, pinching my cheek, which I was sure already suffered from a deep crimson glow. “But I have to say that I’m really disappointed in you girls.” She cast a disapproving glance, pausing thoughtfully at each of us. Even as adults, we shrank in our seats.

  “Why didn’t you ever invite me?”

  Yep, this was life in my crazy family—and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You know you don’t have to move out,” Marley said, her lower lip trembling.

  “Jesus, Marley, you act as if you’ll never see her again,” Rick said, wiping her tear before it fell.

  “Hormones,” she said, her voice choked.

  I believed her. Marley wasn’t a crier by nature. I don’t know why everyone had insisted on helping me move. It wasn’t as if I had that much stuff and it made the situation so much more dramatic than it needed to be. I wondered where Evan was. I’d knocked on his door to introduce him to everyone but he wasn’t home.

  The apartment, an efficiency with a tiny kitchen, living area and bedroom all in one, fit me perfectly. It represented my first place…one I paid for on my own dime.

  “Your mom’s sorry she couldn’t be here, but finding a nanny is proving more difficult than we thought, and we didn’t think bringing all the boys here was a good idea. She’ll come by later this week,” Damien said. He was right—Bobby and my brothers would have destroyed this place.

  “We have more than enough help,” I said, wondering why she’d sent him. As soon as he took out his toolbox though, I understood it. He started checking the few windows and doors in the room. Rick ducked his head under the small kitchen sink. Adam held a stud finder against the wall.

  “No studs here,” he said. “I wonder if it’s broken.” Then he held it against his chest. I shook my head as it started to beep. “Nope, not broken.”

  “What are they doing?” I asked.

  Stevie narr
owed her eyes for a moment, studying them. “It looks like…a home inspection.”

  I started unpacking but Dillon’s annoying habit of rearranging everything was getting to me. Finally, we three girls sat on my small bed, trying to stay out of everyone’s way.

  “I like this place,” Marley said. “It’s got character. You even have a balcony.”

  “It’s a fire escape,” Stevie said.

  “Yeah, but it’ll be nice to sit out there at night and think about my writing.”

  “Just make sure to keep your windows locked,” Adam said. For some reason, this statement made Stevie giggle.

  I was about to ask her what was so funny when Dillon interrupted my thoughts. “Oh that reminds me. I got you curtains, kid. Can one of you fellows hang up the rods for me?”

  Adam opened his mouth, no doubt ready to say something wicked, but Stevie shot him a warning look. “I’ll do it,” Rick said.

  “Speaking of your writing, we read the story,” Marley whispered.

  “What did you think?”

  “It’s good. I liked it.”

  Dillon joined us on the bed. It was not made for four people, but somehow we all fit on it. “I read it too,” he said, dropping his voice, even though the sound of power drills masked it.

  I could read between the lines so I turned to the one person who’d tell it like it was. “Steve, tell me the truth.”

  She sighed. “It was good, but the sex scenes were a bit…” She looked at each one of us as if trying to come up with the right word.

  “Dry,” Dillon offered.

  “Seriously? I thought they were hot.”

  “They were, but they lacked um…”

  “Passion?” I asked.

  “Yeah, that’s the right word. The guy talked a good game, but when it came down to it, it just didn’t seem like he delivered the goods.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. They were silent. “Look, be honest with me, even if it’s brutal. I let you read it because I want to make it better. Just say it.”

  Damien interrupted our thoughts when he knocked on the wall above my bed. We all looked like kids with hands trapped in a candy jar. “Billie, this is a sound building. The third step on the stairway needs to be fixed, so I’m going to get Mike’s permission to fix it.”

  “Ah, thanks, Damien.”

  “This wall right here,” he said, knocking once more, “it isn’t as sturdy as the others. It was put up to separate one big apartment into two units after the building was erected.”

  Dillon giggled, no doubt at Damien saying ‘erected’.

  “Grow up,” I said, elbowing him.

  “Is that bad?” Marley asked.

  “No, it’s not load-bearing, but it’s also not insulated. It just means you’ll be able to hear your neighbor.”

  Oh… I tried to process if I liked that idea or not, but as soon as I thought of Evan’s favorite activity, my stomach soured. If I had to listen to him with another girl, I’d lose it.

  Stevie clapped her hands. “Why don’t you guys take a break and go to that chicken place you like.”

  “Really?” Adam asked, giving her a suspicious glance as if she was tricking him. I wondered the same thing.

  “Yeah,” I said. “You guys are missing the football game, aren’t you?”

  “Football isn’t played for a few months.”

  “Soccer?” Dillon guessed.

  “Baseball,” Rick said.

  “Oh of course,” Stevie said. “Go watch as they touchdown a few home runs.”

  “You don’t touchdown a home run, but a break sounds good. We’ll bring you guys back something,” Damien said.

  “Want to come, McKay?” Adam asked Dillon.

  “Nah, I’ll stay here.”

  “Hungry?” Rick asked Marley.

  “I’m good for now.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a protein bar before depositing it on her lap. “In case you get hungry before I get back.”

  She smiled, picking it up. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t take the stairs. Like Damien said, the third one needs to be fixed. Wait for me.”

  “Okay, Rick,” she said, her smile tightening.

  “And call me if—”

  She stood and smacked his lips with a kiss before he could finish the sentence. “Go, already.”

  When they’d finally left, and the room no longer suffered from testosterone overdose, I shot a quizzical look at Stevie and Marley. “I’m surprised you guys let them go. I thought you were against that place.”

  Stevie shrugged. “Adam made a good point the other night. Besides, we wanted to talk about the book.”

  “What about it?”

  “The guy was kind of a dick.”

  “He’s cocky.”

  “There’s a difference between having a big dick and being a big dick. I mean, he was all like ‘my dick’s so big, I can fuck you when you’re in the next room, baby’.”

  “Um…he never said that.”

  “He might as well.”

  Marley placed her hand on my shoulder. “Little Bird, I don’t mean to sound harsh, but I think your lack of experience shows.”

  “You’re right, I don’t have many writing credits.”

  “Not that…your lack of sexual experience,” Stevie said.

  “Are you telling me I should have more sex to write a better love scene?”

  “I’m not saying that, but we did buy you a gift to help you.”

  “A gift? You guys already got me the curtains and the writing desk…and—”

  “That’s from everyone. This is just from us.”

  “Consider it a welcome home present,” Dillon said. “Or maybe a parting prize.”

  Stevie ran to a box I didn’t recognize packing. She took out a beautifully wrapped present, placing it on my lap. It was heavy.

  I unwrapped it, confused by the contents. “You bought me a lifetime supply of triple A batteries?” No wonder it was heavy.

  “Look underneath.”

  I removed all the packs of batteries then untied the long velvet pouch. “You got me a vibrator?” I asked in disbelief. “Thanks for the thought, but I already own one.”

  Only in this family.

  Marley took the package out of my hand. “This is the V-Magic Nine-Thousand. Look.” She pointed to the writing on the box, which stated the most unusual guarantee I’d ever seen on a package.

  “How can they guarantee an orgasm?”

  “I don’t know, but it works. This got me through all those lonely nights before I met Rick,” she said.

  “Eww, is it used?” I asked.

  Marley laughed. “I’d give you the shirt off my back, but there are some hand-me-downs you just don’t do.”

  Thank God for that. I put the lid back on the box. “Thank you. You guys must think I’ll be using it a lot, with all the batteries.”

  “There’s nothing more annoying than getting a new toy and not being able to play with it,” Stevie said, shoulder-bumping me.

  We all worked together to put up the pretty black and white damask curtains Dillon brought. I turned on some music, choosing Miley Cyrus’ Party in the USA. Stevie shook her head. “Don’t judge. This is my tune,” I insisted.

  “That’s right,” Dillon said, doing a cute little hip dance that made me join in. “Leave Miley alone, you haters.”

  “Should we have put up the curtains before Damien puts up the new locks?”

  “He’s putting up new locks?”

  “Mom asked him to make the place as safe as possible,” Marley said.

  “Next he’ll be putting in a security system.”

  “What makes you think he isn’t?”

  Then I remembered that look between Adam and Stevie. “Hey, Stevie, what was that look you gave Adam when he said to lock my windows?

  “What look?” she asked, feigning innocence and not fooling anyone.

  “I saw it too,” Marley said. “Spill it, Stevie.”
>
  She sighed. “Adam’s been doing this thing lately where he sneaks into the bedroom window late at night.”

  “Why would he do that?” Dillon asked. “Are you locking him out?”

  “No…it’s role play. He wears a mask.”

  “Like a Halloween mask?” I asked.

  “A superhero mask,” Marley suggested.

  “No no, that’s dumb…like a robber’s mask.”

  Yeah, as if that makes perfect sense.

  “He wears pantyhose over his head?” Dillon asked.

  “Seriously, stop guessing. He wears a ski mask and dresses in all black. He tips me off to it by telling me to make sure the windows are locked. So of course, I leave the bedroom window unlocked.”

  “And this turns you on?” I asked.

  She sucked in a breath, as if recalling a memory. “Oh yeah, sometimes he ties me up and we have safe words. There’s nothing wrong with fantasy…in fact, it kicks things up a notch. We can go at it for hours like that. When he puts on that ski mask, he’s super controlling. I never thought I’d like that. It turns out I love it.”

  Marley made a gagging sound.

  “Don’t judge,” Stevie said.

  “No, it sounds really hot. I’m just thinking about the time we all went skiing last year. Adam and I were stuck on the lift. He lent me his ski mask.”

  We all cracked up.

  “Relax, it’s not the same one.” Stevie turned to me. “The moral of the story is you shouldn’t be afraid to try new things. You might just enjoy yourself.”

  “Even the sexual stories in this family have morals,” Dillon said.

  “Can I use that for my book?”

  Stevie shook her head so quickly her hair slapped my face. “Hell no, get your own material.”

  The sound of the guys coming back drew our attention. I saw it just as they headed to the room—I hadn’t put the vibrator back in the box. Thankfully, Dillon was quick, burying it beneath the batteries.

  “What’s going on?” Adam asked.

  The four of us tried and failed to look nonchalant. “Nothing. Where is everyone else?”

  “Damien and Rick are fixing the step.”

  “Shouldn’t you help?” Stevie asked.