Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“Food,” Junior said as he dropped down the boxes and the liter of ginger ale the local pizza place usually gave out for free with orders. “And I need another drink. You want one?” he asked, looking at me.
“I sure would. An Old Fashioned, please,” Barry said.
“No.”
“A Grasshopper, then,” Barry went on, and the pain in Junior’s expression was enough that the stress of my life melted away for a second in the face of the absurdity of his.
“Fuck no.”
“A margarita will work then,” Barry said as he slid two pieces of greasy pepperoni pizza onto his plate, then piled on three garlic knots.
“I don’t have fucking mixer shit,” Junior said.
“How about gin and ginger?” I asked, gesturing toward the bottle of ginger ale. “You won’t even taste the gin in it. It’s one of my favorites,” I told him.
“Why are you humoring him?” Junior asked as I sidled up beside him with two cups mostly full of ginger ale.
“Isn’t it easier to play along than to fight him every step of the way?” I shot back.
“No. If you’re nice to a stray dog, they won’t go away,” he said.
“I’m sorry to break this to you, Junior, but Barry has already scent-marked your entire house. He’s not going anywhere.”
To that, Junior sighed as he passed me the gin.
“I’ll get rid of him once he eats, then we can talk,” he offered.
I wasn’t exactly in a rush, so I just shrugged at that. Then went ahead and enjoyed some pizza that I didn’t need to pay for, and the company of other people for a change.
That was one thing I hadn’t realized would become so much of my life once I opened a business. Just how often I would be alone. I worked impossibly long hours in a mostly empty coffee shop. I went home to my shoebox apartment. Alone. To bed alone. I woke up alone, ran errands alone, and ate alone.
I didn’t remember the last time I’d shared pizza with others.
And the company wasn’t too bad.
When he wasn’t infiltrating every aspect of your life, Barry was actually kind of interesting and funny. Mostly unintentionally, but still, it counted.
We talked a lot about Christmas traditions.
Of which he had many, and I had few.
His parents had really been present. They put up the tree, watched movies, baked, got up early Christmas morning to open gifts. The whole shebang.
“What about you?” Barry asked.
“Well, one year, my mom painted a tree on the wall,” I told him. “Which got us kicked out a week later. We lived in the car for a while after that.”
“I, ah, I don’t know what to say about that,” Barry admitted. “Boss, you got anything to say to that?”
“Sounds rough,” Junior said.
“It was what it was. My mom had mental health issues that led to addiction issues and dating bad guy issues.”
“Had?” Junior asked.
“I haven’t been in touch for years,” I admitted. “So, I guess it is hopeful thinking to put it in past tense. I’d like to think she is somewhere, clean, and putting her life together with a decent guy.”
“My parents abandoned me,” Barry said, making both Junior and I look over, surprised. “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Last year, they sold their house, and up and moved to Peru.”
“Peru?” Junior asked, brows raised.
“The dollar goes a lot further there. Ma is happy because she has a housekeeper and someone to come in and cook meals three days a week. They don’t come up for holidays or even my birthday anymore.”
“You could move there,” Junior suggested, pretending to be helpful, when I knew he was trying to push the guy out—if not of his life, then his house, at least.
“I burn,” he said.
And that, apparently, was that.
The conversation went back to Christmas, but this time not movies, but which shows had the best Christmas specials. Barry concluded it was a mix between an episode of Will & Grace, New Girl, and Friends.
“Alright,” Junior said as he got up from the table. “You got to meet Shale. You’ve been fed. Go home.”
“Oh, no, I can’t go home,” he said.
“Why the fuck not?”
“I’ve had too much to drink,” Barry said, waving his mostly drunk gin and ginger.
“You had one drink,” Junior objected.
“And I’m wobbly,” Barry insisted.
“Shale needs to sleep on the couch,” Junior said, surprising no one more than me.
When did I ever say that I was sleeping over?
Yet, somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to object either.
If nothing else, this was one night where I wouldn’t be abducted and murdered.
Besides, if Junior was a good enough guy to put up with Barry when he clearly found him irksome, I really doubted he meant any harm to me.
“Okay,” Barry said, thinking that over. “Then I will sleep in the bed with you,” he said.
The look on Junior’s face was freaking priceless.