The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(6)
Dante giggles behind me. “What is “Achy Breaky Heart”?”
“It’s just as ridiculous as “Old Town Road” is, but for you, I’ll play it. If it will keep me from hearing that song one more—”
“Fine, “Baby Shark” then!”
“God, no! “Old Town Road” it is, you little diva!”
My cell rings just as I hit play.
“HA!” I say as Parker’s name flashes on my screen, and I show it to Dante. “Saved by Auntie Parker.”
Dante kicks the back of my seat. “Fine. I guess you can answer it.”
“Well, thank you very much for your permission, son.” I hit answer and cradle the phone into the mount on my air vent. “You just saved my life by calling.”
“Oh?” She says sweetly. “Why is that?”
“Your nephew wants to hear that song again, and this time, I may have driven us off the road. What is it about that song?”
“What song?”
“Old Town Road,” Dante pipes up behind me, making sure Parker knows he’s present. There’s only one person on earth he loves more than her, and I’m the lucky one.
“Oh, I love that song. Hey, Duckie!”
“Hi, Auntie Parker!”
“What’s wrong with “Old Town Road” anyway?”
“Never mind. You suck. Worst best friend ever,” I grumble.
“Mommy, that’s not nice!” Dante scolds. “It’s my favorite song.”
“Mine too,” Parker giggles when I let out a miserable groan.
“It is not. You are so fired. Seriously, why can’t you agree with me, just once?”
“Sorry.” I can hear the smile in her voice.
“No, you’re not. And in order to make it up to me, you have to stay on the phone for fifteen minutes, so I don’t have to listen to it.”
“I’ve got time to kill.”
“Heeey,” Dante protests behind me.
“Quiet, son, adults speaking.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He pulls out his tablet from the lip of my seat and puts on his headphones. When I hear one of his downloaded videos start, I know I’m in the clear.
“How’s London?”
“London is fine.”
“And the other part of London?”
“Not fine. Horrible. It was the worst blind date in the history of ever. He didn’t know I was supersized, and I didn’t know he had skin scalp. We both exaggerated the truth, and not only that, we were both too picky to live with it. Isn’t that sad? I’m going to be the old lady in the home who talks to her shoes.”
I can’t help my laugh. “You are not.”
“I am. I’m going to be that woman who wears the same sweatsuit and has in-depth conversations with her bunion cradling loafers. Just promise me something?”
“You’re ridiculous, but what?”
“Promise you’ll wax me.”
“Wax you?”
“The only thing worse than being the old lady who talks to her shoes is the old lady with a unibrow and a mustache that talks to her shoes. Don’t let that be me, buddy. Please, don’t. I’ll set up a fund specifically for waxing. Promise me.”
“First,” I say taking a right that leads us toward home, “you won’t end up in a home because you’ve got me.”
“You’ll be married.”
“I’ll outlive him.”
“Great. You’ll be mopey, and I’ll be hairy.”
“Hush. When are you coming home?”
“Not for another three weeks at the least.”
“Gah, this sucks. I miss you.”
“Same here.”
“Sorry about your date.”
“I have a chest full of tartar sauce to clean up. I swear these tits are a shelf.”
“You’re nuts,” I giggle.
“Well, dinner was on him, so I went bananas with the fish and chips. It was the least he could do for orgasm denial.”
“Agreed.”
“Clarissa?”
Her tone turns serious, and instantly, I wish she were in front of me. I hate that her job requires so much travel. We’ve been inseparable since our freshman year at Grand, more so after I gave birth to the love of her life.
“Yeah, babe?”
“He’s out there, right?”
“Yes, and he’ll love you like crazy.”
“Swear?”
“Swear.”
“Sorry to be needy.”
“It was a bad date. You’re not needy. And starting something there would be pointless anyway, your home is here.”
“True. Kiss that kid for me.”
“Will do. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
“Now, chin up and go clean that tartar off those hooters.”
“On it.”
“Night, buddy.”
“Pip, pip. Cheerio.”
I take the streets that lead toward home thinking of how long it’s been since I’ve been on a date. A year? Longer? I tell Parker all the time to take a chance and put herself out there, all the while not taking my own advice. It’s a lot harder to simply date around with sensitive ears and an impressionable boy to keep in mind. For years it’s been just the two of us, and I’ve been content with that. But I’m not getting any younger and with Dante’s next birthday drawing near, I hear the biological tick getting louder. He’s asked me for a brother or sister on several occasions, and on those, I’ve always been thankful I’ve been able to distract him from the conversation. But my kid’s no pushover, and he’s starting to prod, becoming more demanding. Soon enough, he’ll have real questions that deserve real answers.