Sweet Little Thing(7)

I licked and sucked at her neck. “You’re so close,” I said as I started to let her pull my hand away.

The moment my fingers lost contact with her body, she slammed my hand back down. “Don’t stop,” she said and then cried out, “Oh, God!” before breaking into a boneless fit of spasms.

She lay back on me, her body convulsing as I gripped her and felt my own release. I nuzzled my face into her neck and shoulder and just waited until our breaths returned to normal.

“I’m sure the risotto is cold,” she murmured.

“I’ve never cared less about anything in my life,” I said as I lifted her off me to stand.

She turned and reached up on her toes and then threw her arms around my neck.

“Let’s go take a shower. I’ll heat up dinner afterward.”

Lying in bed that night, something peculiar happened. Weeks prior, Mia had convinced me that we should crate train June. That meant putting her in a little cage at night so she wouldn’t chew things and poop all over our loft. We’d spent several miserable nights listening to her yelp from the cage, but Mia kept saying, “This will work, trust me. We did it with Jackson. June will eventually love it in there.”

I would beg Mia, “Please, I can’t take this torture; let’s let her out.”

Mia would always say, “No. Come on, we have to be a team.”

That one peculiar night as we lay there in the dark, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for June to begin her torturous song, something changed in Mia. June only let out just the tiniest yelp, and Mia very slowly got up, walked to the cage, picked June up and said, “It’s okay, baby girl,” to her as she patted her on the head. She set June between us and slid back into bed.

I let June curl up on my pillow, literally on top of my head, and then I turned to Mia. “Hey, my little ball-buster, are you getting soft on me?” I said to her.

“No.” She sighed. “I just need to get some sleep.”

“What happened to teamwork?”

“Choosing my battles,” she said groggily before dozing off.



TRACK 3: The Fuckin’ Hollies


Tyler and I were sitting in a shit-hole bar in Brooklyn, having a midday beer and talking about profound things like why some sports teams, like the Florida Marlins, are assigned to states and others, like the Boston Red Sox, belong to cities.

“I’ve often pondered the very same question,” Tyler said.

“It’s why I don’t watch sports. Nothing makes sense and it’s a pointless pastime. If you’re the athlete competing, it’s one thing, but to just sit there and watch? What’s the point? We don’t sit around watching people paint pictures.”

“That would be extremely boring, Will.”

“Are you telling me that baseball isn’t boring? I used to get bored playing it as a kid.”

Distracted, Tyler looked up to the ceiling. “What’s this song called?”

That bar always played the most recognizable classic rock songs. “It’s ‘Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress.’”

“Oh, man, my dad used to love CCR,” he blabbered.

“This isn’t Creedence Clearwater Revival, bro, it’s the Hollies.”

“You’re full of shit. My dad would play these guys nonstop. Anyway, who else sounds like this?”

“The f*ckin’ Hollies do, I’m telling you.” I opened my eyes really big for emphasis.

“You don’t know everything about music, Will. I know you think you do. This is CCR. I’d bet money on it.”

“Okay, fine. If you’re right, which you’re not, I’ll buy everyone in this bar a drink. If I’m right, all you have to do is buy me a drink.”

“Deal,” he said, but before he Googled it on his phone, he stood up and made an announcement. “This genius,” he said, pointing his ginormous index finger at the top of my head, “doesn’t believe this is CCR on the jukebox.”

The eight random people in the bar all shook their heads and said, “What?” and “Of course it’s CCR.”

Tyler continued, “I’m going to Google it and if it’s CCR, then this guy will buy this bar a round.”

The other daytime drinkers-slash-alcoholics all cheered and clapped. I watched as Tyler Googled it. His silly, smug grin was washed from his face in seconds.

He stared at the screen and then under his breath he said, “It’s the goddamn Hollies.” He looked around the bar and yelled, “We lost, people. Sorry. Better luck next time.”

When things settled down, I remembered that I wanted to interrogate him about the pregnancy-test thing. “Do you and Jenny have any news or anything?”

He looked over at me. “No. Why?”

“I was wondering about the baby thing.”

“The baby thing?” He seemed pissed. “Is that how you ask if Jenny’s pregnant?”

“Shit. Sorry, bro. I didn’t mean to be rude. Yeah, I guess I’m asking if Jenny’s pregnant.”

“No, she’s not, but we’re still trying, and I don’t mind that part.” He waggled his brows. “What about you guys? You gonna wait until after you’re married?”

“I don’t know. At first we were like rearing to go, but our jets have cooled. We’re definitely waiting until after we’re married and then some. Dude, it’s hard enough having a puppy, and with the studio launching, we’d be crazy to go there. I want kids for sure, but we’ve got plenty of time.”