What Lovers Do(13)
I smirk. We’re friends because neither of us are capable of taking life too seriously. “Condolences to Caroline, Pencil Dick.”
Howie laughs. He’s able to laugh at himself better than any human I know. “I really deserve some sort of award. With my familial Puny Pecker Syndrome, I have to use my dick, three fingers, and a toe to get the job done properly.”
With a fist at my mouth, my entire body vibrates with silent laughter. I have actual tears in my eyes. I just … can’t with him.
“Anyway, Millie asked Caroline to ask me to convince you to get onto some dating apps, preferably at least one that Millie’s on as well. But now that you’re on the verge of nailing a doctor with sexy glasses, I can’t make the dating app case anymore.”
“I’m not nailing her.” I hit the gas toward the green. “We’re having some intense phone sex, but that’s it.” I give him a grin that says I’m joking. “And when I go all Morgan Freeman on her, I can practically hear her panties dissolving. But I digress … Millie just wants me on the same dating apps so she can check out her competition. As if my idea of fun is hanging out with my ex and letting her scroll through my phone.”
“Fair enough.” He hops out of the cart. “At least I can tell Caroline that I asked, and you said no. That should earn me some decent head or at least a lick or two while she fondles my one testicle that didn’t fall off in my sleep.”
I bark a laugh and shake my head.
“But seriously, Shep. I’m glad to hear that you’re not moping around, still beating yourself up over your failed marriage. Way to get back in the saddle.”
I dig into my pocket for some cash to get a beverage. “I wouldn’t call this ‘back in the saddle.’ I’d call it a concerted effort to prove Millie wrong. I think her favorite pastime is imagining me still pining for her and reveling in the fact that it was she who ended our marriage with her horrid lying and desperate need for control, as if I was a warden in her life and not her husband.”
“Shit …” Howie rests his club on the ground like a kickstand. “Caroline’s getting ready to leave me, isn’t she?”
I shrug. “One plus two plus three, man. You know women like to do everything together.”
As Howie’s face settles into a deflated frown, my phone vibrates.
I grin. “It’s her.”
“Millie?” he asks.
“Sophie.” I accept the call.
“Dr. 69?” Howie says way too loudly.
I roll my eyes and walk toward the cart. “Hello?”
“Hey, whatcha up to?”
“Who is this?”
“Oh, um … it’s …”
I grin. “Kidding. So … what are you wearing?”
“High waisted cream pants, sleeveless blouse, and a lab coat.”
“Boring … try again.”
She giggles. “Just a lab coat, black heels, cat-eye tortoise shell glasses, and pale pink lip gloss.”
“Damn …” I might have to adjust things down below if she keeps this up. “Cat-eye tortoise shell glasses, huh?”
“They’re very vintage.”
“What’s the address? I’m overdue for a good eye exam.”
Sophie’s laughter is the best sound I’ve heard in so long. “What are you doing?”
“Golfing.”
“Must be nice. Some of us have to work.”
“I’ll do that later. Priorities.”
She grunts. I think it’s a jealous grunt.
Howie hops into the cart and pinches his nipples, licking his lips, and rolling his eyes back in his head. He’s making it difficult to prove all the women wrong who say men never grow up.
“It’s hard for me to feel bad for you having to work, when you’re clearly not working at all right now,” I say.
“I had a patient reschedule, so I thought I’d reciprocate the kind gesture and call you to converse.”
“Oh, you called me for phone sex.”
“No.” She coughs. “No phone sex. Just conversation. So … it’s sunny out today.”
I laugh. “Such a rare occasion in Arizona.”
“Who ya golfing with?”
“My friend.”
“A four-legged friend?”
My grin doubles. “Two-legged. A thirty-six-year-old toddler.”
Howie gives me a look.
Yes, buddy. I’m talking about you.
“Then I’ll let you go so you can talk about me. Make sure he knows we’re just friends and I’m fully clothed, getting ready to give some lucky human twenty-twenty vision.”
As entertaining as Howie can be, and as much as I love golfing, I’m bummed that I’m not someplace else so I can keep talking with said new friend “Okay, Jesus.”
Laughter bubbles out of Sophie. “Bye, Shep.”
CHAPTER NINE
SOPHIE
“Can you keep it down?” Jimmy grumbles from my sofa while pulling the blanket over his head.
I wonder if prisons cater to the nutritional needs of pregnant inmates because there’s a good chance I’ll end up killing Jimmy before he moves out. Legit, I Googled “how to kill someone without leaving a trace” before I went to sleep last night. Now that search is out there … in cyberspace, even though I erased my search history. So Jimmy gets to live because I made a misstep in my murder planning. That’s unfortunate.