MacKenzie Fire(27)

He shakes his head at me like he can’t believe what I’m saying. I don’t see what the big deal is. I just read it from the book that he gave me. Honestly, I’ve never read any Bible from cover to cover. Guess it was just my luck I found the testicle passage. I’m thinking I should read it more often if it’s going to be that entertaining. I’ve tried before but I always fall asleep at the part where it starts talking about Adam and all his grandsons. He had a lot of them.

“You go to church back East?” he asks.

I shake my head, wondering how weird this conversation is about to get. “Nope.”

“Me neither.”

I nod. This is so not interesting to me. Changing the subject seems like a great idea. “So … party this weekend at Boog’s eh?”

“I’m not going. You’re not going. No one’s going.”

“Of course we are. Ginny wants me to meet all your friends.”

“Too bad.”

I smile evilly. “Too bad for you, you mean. You owe me.”

He gives me a pained expression. “You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I can.” I sit up straight and smile. “I’m really looking forward to it, actually.” Checking my nails. “And since I saved your butt with your ex, you have to bring me.”

He bends over and covers his face with his hands while he leans his elbows on his knees. I can’t tell if he’s really sad, really angry, or just really tired. Maybe he’s all three.

“So what’s the deal with you and her?” I ask, sensing weakness to be capitalized on. “You were going to get married right?”

Ian looks up, letting his hands drop away. He looks around the room, maybe checking to see if we’re alone, which we still are. It makes me wonder where all of Andie’s friends are. Surely she has some around this town, so where are they?

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“In general or specifically with me?” This is waaay more interesting than crushed testicles and bastards being turned away at the pearly gates. No way am I’m letting him off the hook that easy.

“Both. Neither.”

Time to go for the throat. That’ll get this party started. “I heard she cheated on you with Mack.”

He lets out a loud stream of air and leans back in his chair. “You heard wrong.”

“I don’t think so. I heard she made the major move on him when you came back from Vegas.” I nod for emphasis, like I’m all hooked into the town grapevine.

He’s staring off into the distance as he responds. “It wasn’t a major move. It was a minor move that went nowhere.”

“Seems like it went somewhere to me. It ended your marriage.”

“There was no marriage.” He looks at me. “No wedding, no marriage.”

“Okay, so it ended everything.”

He smiles, but it’s not the happy kind of smile. “You can say that again.”

“Okay, so it ended everything.”

Closing his eyes, he shakes his head slowly. “You are something, you know that?”

“Something awesome. Yeah, I know.” I move over to the chair next to him, but he doesn’t budge. I take that as an invitation to pry deeper. Crossing my legs, I let my top foot bounce a little, casually showing off my cute boots to distract him from realizing he’s giving me the goods. “So, how long did you date? … Before the break-up I mean?”

“Years. Since junior high. Too long.”

“Too long?”

“Yeah. Too long. We got too comfortable with each other. Started overlooking things, I guess.” He shrugs and looks away.

“Like what kind of things?”

He pauses and turns to stare at me for a few seconds. “You sure are nosey.”

I wiggle my foot to distract him from resisting me. Wiggle, wiggle … wiggle, wiggle… He looks down at my fur lining and frowns.

“Nosey? More like bored.” I swat him lightly on the arm with the back of my hand. “Come on. We’re going to be waiting for hours and hours. Might as well tell me all your innermost secrets and get it over with. I won’t rest until I’ve plumbed the depths of Ian.”

He laughs, looking back up at me. “Do you have any idea how wrong that sounds?”

I wave his silliness away. “Oh poo. Admit it. You’re impressed with my poetic expressions.”

He laughs. “If that’s poetry, I’m Deputy Dog.”

“What’s that? Your nickname?”

He closes his eyes and leans his head back on the wall. “I’m taking a nap. Don’t bother me.”

I stare at the magazines on the low table in front of us. There’s one featuring NASCAR, one about corvettes, and one covered in motorcycles. Who stocks this place with reading material, anyway? Jeff Gordon? Talk about lame. No way can I abandon my line of questioning when this is all I have to look forward to.

“So, what did you mean when you said you started overlooking things? Or was it her that started overlooking things?”

He doesn’t respond to I keep prompting.

“What did she overlook? Was it your personal hygiene problems? Your lack of social graces? Your terrible taste in hatwear?”

He remains still, as if he can’t even hear me, and for a moment I think I’m going to have to get pushy to get my answers, but then he surprises me.