Page 113

I have a point to this though, and clearly easily distracted since the fire. I think I inhaled too much smoke. Back to Steve. He shows up.
“Whoa, I heard there was a fire.”
Bonner looks to me, then Steve. “Heard, or saw? You’re literally four houses down.”
He waves his hand around and knocks me in the head in the process. “Yeah, saw. I meant that.”
We laugh and this is when Steve shrugs one shoulder. “I was busy.”
“Doing what?” Jason asks, digging at his cast with a knife. “Running? For the love of God man,” he points the knife at Steve, “you’d think longer shorts would be more comfortable. Or do you like your nuts hanging out?”
Let’s pause here. Jason broke his arm two weeks ago while watering the lawn. Not a goddamn one of us believe him. Kate says he broke it when he tripped and fell down the stairs because he was staring at his phone while he swiped left on Tinder. We believe Kate.
Now, back to Jason nagging on Steve. It’s a daily occurrence these days. Poor Steve. But seriously, his shorts. He needs longer ones.
My attention diverts to my wife and Kate. Kate’s trying to get Revel to sing to her.
“I’m sure you’ve heard me sing,” he tells her in a familiar baritone voice I’ve her countless times on the radio.
“Everyone has, but sing for me,” she coos, to Jason’s horror.
He frowns and glares at me, like I have something to do with it. “I swear to God, if she fucks him, I’m selling her on eBay.”
He’s serious.
Revel just smirks and tilts his head to the side and all the women faint. Just kidding, but they drool, even my wife. Don’t worry. I’m not offended. Jealousy’s for boys. I say that now, but if he touches her, all rules above do not apply.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on tour with that Taylan Ash chick?” Landon asks him, handing him a beer.
Revel declines the beer with a slow shake of his head, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His body tenses at the mention of the girl on tour with him. “No.”
Landon raises an eyebrow. “You mean rehab?”
Revel nods but doesn’t expand.
“So it’s true, most rock stars spend more time in rehab than on tour?” Jason asks, like a dumb shit. “I heard about your freak out on stage.”
Wrong thing to say. I don’t know a goddamn thing about Revel’s life, other than he probably gets pussy more than all of us here, including the women with pussies.
The glare Jason receives from Revel is something similar to when you tell your southern raised mother you’re not eating her sweet potato pie because last time he gagged and sweet potato came out your nose. I still can’t stomach them, but, that glare Revel has, it’s not like that at all so make all the smoke from the fire has gotten inside my head and I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about. Just know that Revel Slade, he’s the king of glares and Jason and him, they ain’t friends.
“Who the fuck are you?” Revel spits, his jaw clenching.
Jason’s shoulder sink. “Nobody.” And then he walks away. Probably for good reason.
Bonner stands beside me, Hayley on his shoulders with a half-eaten cupcake in one hand and the whip cream in Bonner’s hair like it’s mousse. Something tells me this isn’t the first time Bonner’s had whip cream in his hair though. He tips his chin up, smiling. “Who pissed off Revel?”
“Jason.”
We stand there talking about how crazy it is that Hayley’s one already, but that’s all interrupted when we overhear Steve talking to Jason.
“It’s for anal play,” Steve says. “It’s for a prostate orgasm.”
Yeah, he said that. And I’m not entirely sure who he freaks out more by it, or what word terrifies us more. Anal or prostate. Because if most men are like me, we prefer to never think about either when it comes to our own sexuality. Again, I’m not like most men and I could be completely wrong here. Also, I’m distracting you so let’s just move on.
Look at me there. I almost burst out laughing.Almost. I refrain and I only do that because I’m watching my fucking son pee on a girl’s leg and thinking to myself, what the fuck. I’ll get to that in minute, but first, back to the prostate conversation I no longer what to be a part of.
Jason swallows the beer in his mouth, his eyes narrowing in on our strange but very nice neighbor. “A what?”