The Firework Exploded (The Holidays #3)(6)

“The problem isn’t solved! The problem is a whole lot worse now!” I whisper-yell, quickly glancing over my shoulder to make sure my mother hasn’t snuck up behind us before pulling the bottle back out of my purse and shoving it in her face again. “Don’t you get it? He’s going to die!”

She rolls her eyes at me, grabs the pills and puts them back in my purse, and then throws the bag down the hall until it slides to a stop at the end against the bathroom door.

“He’s not dying, drama queen. You know, I liked it much better when you thought your loose vagina was the reason Sam hasn’t been able to finish what he starts,” she complains. “At least it gave you some excellent new greeting card ideas for work, like ‘Sorry I can’t make you come anymore, I thought you already knew I had a sloppy twat.’”

Reaching up, I pinch the side of her arm as hard as I can until she yelps and smacks my hand away.

“I do NOT have a sloppy twat, *. Just because I got a bonus for that card outselling all the others during the month of May means absolutely nothing! Were you not paying attention when I showed you the date Sam was prescribed those pills?” I ask.

“December 26th, so what?”

“Oh, so you don’t think it’s a coincidence that Sam is put on high blood pressure medication the same week he met my family and one day after we officially started dating? My family is LITERALLY killing him!”

“I thought I heard you two come in. What are you doing standing around in the hallway?” my mother asks, rounding the corner from the living room and looking back and forth between me and Scheva.

“Just discussing Sam’s erectile dysfunction, Bev. You know, just your typical Tuesday night,” Scheva tells her with a smile, moving around me to give my mother a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

I love my family, I really do, but there’s a reason why I don’t tell them every single thing going on in my life.

“Oh, dear, he got a visit from Mister Ed, did he? Don’t worry, your father had some issues with him as well. I’m sure he could have a talk with Sam and give him some pointers,” my mother says with a wink, giving me a pat on the back.

Aaaaaand that right there is the number one reason.

“No, absolutely not. You’re not telling Dad, you’re not telling Aunt Bobbie, and you’re not calling everyone in the Women’s Guild at church to tell them either,” I warn her.

“I’m sorry, but can we go back to Mister Ed? Isn’t he a horse?” Scheva questions with a laugh.

“Haven’t you done enough?” I snarl at her.

“Well, Noel’s father wouldn’t let me talk about his little issue either, so I took to calling it Mister Ed whenever he was in the room. Get it? Ed? E.D.? It worked for quite a while too, until he started getting concerned about how much I was discussing a horse having sex,” my mother tells us with a sigh. “He had been watching that TV show, My Strange Addiction, and he thought I was like one of those women who are addicted to eating their own hair or licking laundry detergent off their fingers, but with horse sex. He was very worried. I had to distract him with Viagra. Speaking of Viagra, remind me to give you a few of your father’s pills for Sam. That will fix your problem in no time.”

I close my eyes and count to ten, wondering for the hundredth time why Sam and I didn’t just elope. Or change our names and move to another country.

“Sorry to break it to you, Bev, but Sam’s problem can’t be cured with Viagra,” Scheva informs her, like the traitorous friend she is.

“My Spidey senses were tingling. Are you three talking about penises without me?”

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse…

My Aunt Bobbie strolls down the hall from the kitchen with a martini in her hand, giving Scheva and I air-kisses before taking a big gulp of her drink. My Aunt Bobbie, formerly known as Uncle Robert until his ex-wife, Cindy, caught him trying on her clothes and make-up. Listening to Cindy scream and watch her head explode made Uncle Robert realize he preferred dick to vagina and couture gowns to Dockers and Polo’s. Aunt Bobbie divorced Cindy and has never been happier. Aunt Bobbie can also hear people talking about all things penis from at least six miles away. I love her, but Aunt Bobbie has no boundaries and her knowledge of this information is not going to end well.

“We were just discussing Noel and Sam’s problem with Mister Ed,” my mother informs her, saying the stupid horse name in a stage whisper.

“Oh, this is fun! I’ve missed talking about Mister Ed!” Aunt Bobbie announces, raising her glass in a cheer and taking another drink.

“This is NOT fun. Nothing about this is fun. This is a very serious problem and you cannot tell Sam you know anything about it, he would be mortified,” I warn them.

“Someone explain to me why Viagra can’t help Mister Ed?” Aunt Bobbie asks, completely ignoring me. “That little guy sure did like those blue pills before. Times may have changed, but Viagra and Mister Ed will always remain the best of friends.”

I’m pretty sure I’d rather be rubbing my ass on a pee-covered toilet seat cover right about now.

“He’s got a problem with the finish line, not the starting gate,” Scheva tells her, grabbing the martini from her hand and taking a sip while Aunt Bobbie smiles and nods, giving me a sympathetic look.