Troubles and Treats (Chocolate Lovers #3)(16)

“It will be my fake pleasure,” Liz says with a smile as she fast forwards the movie.

~

An hour and a half later, we’re sitting at a local hole in the wall bar a few blocks from Liz and Claire’s shop, and I’m still in shock by that movie.

“I mean, it was so real,” I tell them in awe.

“I know, right? You would have totally thought Billy Crystal was giving it to Meg Ryan under the table,” Liz says as she drinks the last of her beer and signals the waitress for another round.

We decide that since we were without children or husbands we should make the most of it and get some drinks. Plus, the girls are convinced that a little liquid courage will help with the faking I plan on testing out this evening, but they have yet to order me any.

The waitress comes to our table a few minutes later and Claire and Liz each order another beer.

“I’ll take whatever size Liquid Courage you have on draft,” I tell her with a smile.

“I’m sorry, what?” the waitress asks in confusion.

“I don’t know. My friends told me to order it. Do you guys not have it? Maybe it’s new.”

Liz leans over and covers my mouth with her hand. “Just bring her a drink with the highest proof alcohol you’ve got.”

Claire is laughing and typing something into her cell phone.

“What are you doing? Are you putting that on Facebook? Don’t you dare! How was I supposed to know it wasn’t a brand of beer?” I complain.

“Actually, that isn’t a bad idea. I wonder if I could market my own beer for the shop. Liquid Courage: helping men get laid for centuries.” Claire laughs as she slips her cell phone back in her purse.

The waitress comes back with the girls' beers and a shot glass filled with a pinkish colored liquid for me.

“What is this?” I ask her.

“It’s Everclear with a splash of cherry juice,” she explains before rushing off to another table.

“Ooooh, Everclear. That sounds pretty,” I say before downing the shot.

I immediately start coughing and choking, fanning my mouth with my hand.

“IT BURNS! OH MY GOD IT BURNS!” I try to yell with a raspy voice that feels like it’s on fire.

“Here, drink this,” Claire tells me as she slides her beer across the table towards me.

I drink the entire thing in three big gulps and smack the glass back down to the table.

“Well, I do believe that is plenty of liquid courage for the evening,” Liz says with a laugh.





Chapter 7 – Fake it Till You Make it


“Holy f*cking Wheat Thins. What did you feed this kid?” Jim asks as he brings Billy over to me, holding him at arm’s length with a look of disgust on his face. “It smells like he ate a dead dog covered in vomit and yogurt and then shit it out.”

He puts Billy in my lap and as soon as I get a whiff, I throw up in my mouth a little and have to hold my breath.

“Jenny stopped breast feeding last week and put him on formula and cereal. Maybe that’s it.”

Carter shakes his head. “That is not what formula and cereal smell like. That smells like ball sweat covered in Swiss cheese.”

I place Billy on the floor at my feet and step away from him so I can take a breath.

“Jesus, that is really bad. How is he smiling? Can’t he smell himself? If I took a dump that smelled that bad I wouldn’t be smiling,” I say.

“Well, at least whatever that was isn’t inside of him anymore. Imagine the havoc it was wreaking on his stomach. He’s probably like, ‘Thank f*cking God that shit is out of me.' Literally,” Jim says as he plugs his nose and takes a few giant steps backwards.

All of a sudden, the sound of five little girls screaming bloody murder comes from the toy room at the back of the house, and ten-year-old Gavin comes running into the living room with a grin on his face.

“What did you do?” Carter asks him as I dig through the diaper bag for a gas mask and latex gloves.

“Nothing,” Gavin replies as he flops down on the couch. “Who farted? It stinks in here.”

We all point to the baby. There is still screaming and crying coming from the toy room, but at this point we’re all more concerned with the fact that the smell coming from my son might start peeling the paint off of the walls.

Veronica comes charging into the living room holding a headless, naked Barbie in her hand. Behind her is Carter’s six-year-old Sophia and Jim’s three daughters, Charlotte who is also six, Ava who is five, and Molly who is three. All have tear-stained cheeks and a multitude of naked, headless Barbies in their hands.

“GAVIN TOOK THE CLOTHES OFF OF ALL OF OUR DOLLS AND POPPED THEIR HEADS OFF!” Charlotte screeches.

“My dolly has no head!” Ava wails.

“He drew boobies on my Barbie!” Sophia cries as she waves the torso of her inked Barbie in front of our faces.

“Hey, those look pretty good. Nice nipple placement,” I tell him.

“Why does this one have a big red dot in the middle of its chest and a shaved head,” Jim asks as he grabs the only one with its head still intact that three-year-old Molly is cradling to her.

“She’s got a third nipple because she was abducted by aliens and they experimented on her. The other Barbies shunned her and cut off all of her hair when she went to sleep,” Gavin explains.