The Rules of Dating My Best Friend's Sister(2)

I guess that’s about it. Not much else I give two shits about. Plus, I’m getting bored. This is more writing than I’ve done in the last two years.

Later,

Holden



P.S. If you haven’t been on the cover of Rolling Stone by now, please kick your own ass.

P.P.S. If Lala is single when you get this, and you still haven’t taken your shot, you’re a giant pussy.

***

“It’s about damn time.” Colby shook his head. “We were about to start our meeting without you. You know the old ball and chain only lets me out once a month, and I need to take advantage and get my post-meeting drinking started.”

I shook my head. This guy was so full of shit. Old ball and chain my ass… He was the happiest married man I knew, married to one of the coolest women I’d ever met. But since I was late, I didn’t call him on his shit, and instead shook hands with Owen and Brayden before taking a seat at the table. My three best friends and I owned an apartment building together. Once a month, we met at the local bar to discuss building business. Our meetings generally only lasted about a half hour. Then we’d move on to a night of drinking.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said. “The band’s van broke down again.”

One of the regular waitresses walked by and brought me a beer, without my even having to ask.

I winked at her. “Thanks, gorgeous.” Leaning forward, I held out the bottle and the four of us clinked—our version of a gavel calling the meeting to order.

“Before we start,” Owen said. “Did you guys get the letters Mr. Wolf made us write to ourselves in tenth grade?”

Colby nodded and laughed. “You guys got yours? I got mine last year since I’m a year older than you babies. But I wrote a lot about my hair and the importance of a clean bong.”

We chuckled. “I shouldn’t tell you guys this, because it’s an open invitation for ball busting,” Owen said. “But I wrote that my SAT score was important to me. Then I dedicated a half page to Mrs. Wagner’s tits. I forgot I had a big crush on her.”

My face wrinkled. “Mrs. Wagner? The math teacher? She was like fifty, dude.”

Owen crumpled up the napkin under his beer and chucked it at me. “She wasn’t fifty, you idiot. She was like thirty, and she had a great rack.”

“Sorry,” I said with a shrug. “Guess I was too busy noticing girls closer to our age. You know, because I could actually get girls our age, unlike you.”

“Bite me.” Owen chugged half his beer and lifted his chin to me. “What did yours say? Your dream was to have a car that worked.” He elbowed Brayden, who sat next to him. “Some things never change.”

No way was I going to mention that I’d written about our buddy Ryan’s little sister, Lala. I’d either get punched or lectured, probably both. And I was definitely not going to share that I’d had a little too much to drink last night and called her. Thank God she didn’t answer. What the hell would I have even said, calling her like that out of the blue?

“Mine was about the truly important things in life, gentlemen,” I told them. “Apparently I was mature for my age, because my priorities haven’t changed.”

Brayden nodded and grinned. “You wrote about jerking off, huh?”

“No, dumbass. I wrote about playing the drums and getting head.”

The guys all laughed. “Sounds about right,” Owen said.

I pointed to Brayden. “What’d yours say?”

He grinned. “I wrote two sentences: It’s important to me to do less homework. Therefore, this is the end of my letter.”

I shook my head. “Figures.”

We ordered another round of beers and got down to business. Colby talked about replacing some of the old air conditioners in the building with new, energy-efficient ones. He thought we could make the cost back in electric-bill savings in only two years. Owen told us about a building a few doors down that had sold for way more than we thought it was worth, and I passed around the estimates I’d gotten for the new roof we desperately needed.

We’d just moved on to talking about the tenant leases up for renewal and how much we were going to raise rents, when my cell buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, and my heart leapt into my throat. Lala’s name flashed on the screen. My first instinct was to let it go to voicemail, but then I’d be up all night tonight wondering if everything was okay with her. It was bad enough that I’d had to get myself wasted last night to stop thinking about her long enough to crash. So I excused myself from the table and walked outside the bar to take the call.

“Hello?”

“Holden?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s Laney…Lala.”

I tried to play it off cool. “Oh, hey, Lala. Long time no talk. What’s up?”

“I just saw your name in my missed calls from late last night. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

Shit. “Uhh…sorry. I must’ve butt-dialed you or something.” I lied straight through my teeth. “I didn’t even know I’d called.”

“Oh, that’s funny. Because I was actually going to call you this weekend.”

“You were?”

“Yeah, I’m coming into town for a night next week. I have an interview in the City for a research grant I’m trying to get. I thought maybe I’d stop by the apartment building you guys bought and check it out and say hi to everyone while I’m there. You all live in the building, right?”