Page 51 of 3 Daddies to Go

Trace and I agree. We got more than lucky with Kendall. She’s fun in and out of bed. She could cause some serious trouble because we’ve never actually fallen for any of the girls we’ve slept with, but I think Kendall is about to change that.

19

Trace

Kendall is at work until five, which leaves Tag, Tanner, and me alone in our hotel room trying to figure out what we’re going to do until then.

A grunting snore comes from Tanner, asleep on the couch. Tag throws a pillow at him to wake him up.

“What the fuck, man?” Tanner says, throwing the pillow back at Tag.

“Wake up. If you sleep now you’ll be up all night.”

Tanner closes his eyes again.

“Whatever, Mom.”

The clock next to the TV reads eleven. If we stay cooped up in this hotel room any longer, we might kill each other.

“Why don’t we get lunch at that restaurant Kendall mentioned?”

Tanner perks up. “Good idea. We can talk to the owner about their money situation.”

“Put on some pants,” I say.

After the three of us are dressed and ready to go, we head down to the front desk.

“Excuse me,” I ask the receptionist. “Can you give us directions to Mama’s Home?”

The woman beams.

“It’s the best restaurant in town! Turn right when you leave the hotel and keep walking for two blocks. It’ll be on your left.”

“Thank you,” I say. The guys and I make it to the restaurant in no time.

The place is completely full, and the hostess tells us there’s a thirty-minute wait for a table. How can a restaurant with so many customers be in danger of closing?

I give the hostess my name, and we step outside until they call us in. Georgia really is beautiful. Growing up here, you don’t really appreciate it. I take a deep breath. The air is clean and smells of fresh cut grass and chocolate from the bakery down the street. The people who walk by smile and ask how we are. If someone talks to you in New York City, you ignore them. Down here, it’s a personal affront if you don’t have a short conversation with every person you meet.

“Do you ever miss living in the south?” I ask Tag and Tanner.

They both laugh.

“Sometimes,” Tag acknowledges. “But I like the city, too. I was always bored when we lived down here.”

A couple nearly runs us over on their bikes. Following close behind them is a kid about seven or eight, struggling to keep up. Despite his huffing and puffing, he’s got a wide smile on his face. That’s another thing we don’t have in New York: smiles.

“I’ve got a table for three for Trace,” the hostess calls out in her southern drawl. “Trace?”

“That’s me,” I say, heading into the restaurant. “Thanks so much.”

She leads us to our table next to the window and leaves us with menus to peruse.

“I recommend breakfast. We serve it all day and you can’t go wrong with any of the choices.”

After telling the hostess that we’d like some coffee to start, I scan the breakfast menu. Most of it is standard diner fare, but I do see some interesting variants.

“Afternoon, fellas,” our waitress says, setting out three steaming mugs of coffee. “My name is Kelly, and I’ll be serving you today. Y’all know what you want to order?”