Page 17 of Mr. Edwards

I end the call and stay seated in the car because I know he’ll ring me once he’s used my phone call as an excuse to escape. Bros before hoes and all that.

It only takes a few minutes for my cell to ring. I’m chuckling as I answer it. “Dude, this shit has got to stop.”

“You have no idea. At least your mom’s not constantly shoving potential brides in your face every chance she gets.” I can hear the frustration in his voice, but I still laugh.

“We’ve been friends for over twenty years, I think I do,” I say. “Who was it this time?”

“Willow fucking Henderson. I tell you one of these days I’ll show up there and she’s going to have a preacherwaiting ready to seal the deal before I get a chance to shut that shit down.”

I can’t help it, I crack up. I’m not sure she’d go that far, but she’s been pressuring him for grandbabies for years, so if she’s desperate enough she might just do it.

“Come on, man, Willow’s not that bad.”

“You’re shitting me, right?” he snaps. “Have you seen her lately? She’s so plastic the amount of greenhouse gases she emits into the environment are contributing to global warming.”

I have to wipe the tears from my eyes I’m laughing so hard. I don’t doubt him though. Rich bitches in our circle regularly go under the knife. Daddy’s money can buy almost anything these days. I’m all for a nice rack, but sometimes they take it too far. It’s fake advertising; you never know what you’re truly getting. I’ve seen poor unsuspecting schmucks thinking they’ve hit the jackpot when they snag a beautiful young wife, only for their significant other to pop out a kid ten months later with a nose like Pinocchio or ears that resemble Dumbo’s.

I’m a red-blooded male and guilty of bedding chicks like this myself, but a natural beauty is way more appealing to me. I may have been blessed with good genetics, but what’s wrong with being satisfied with what God has given you? Vain and shallow people piss me off.

“Well, on that note I’m out of here,” I say. “I’ve got a hot date.”

“With whom?”

“Vanessa.”

“That’s not a date, it’s a booty call.”

“At least I’m getting some action tonight.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You could always waltz back into your mother’s house and proposition Willow. I’m sure her plastic lipswould feel rather… adequate wrapped around your tiny cock.”

“Not a chance in hell,” he grumbles, making me laugh again. “Ditch Vanessa. I’ve had a shitty day. Come have a drink with me. You can hit that up later.”

Resting my head back against the seat, I sigh. I hate seeing him like this; he’s been to hell and back. I’ve always been there for him, and I don’t plan to stop now.

“Fine, but you’re buying.”

I’m already texting Vanessa as he rattles off where to meet him.

Grayson: Something’s come up. I’ll have to take a rain check.

Vanessa: What a shame, and my friend Sarah is staying the night too.

I drop my head forward and groan. Vanessa knows the score, we’re not in a relationship, never have been. We can go weeks, sometimes months without seeing each other. Occasionally when we meet up—like tonight apparently—she invites one of her friends over to join in the festivities. Those are fun times. I’m not opposed to threesomes; I’ve even participated in a few foursomes in my old modeling days.

Fucking Ashton.He owes me big time for this.

I look up from the bar where I’ve been sitting for the past fifteen minutes, waiting for my best friend to arrive.My eyes follow him as he crosses the club, heading in my direction. The sullen look on his face has me exhaling a large breath. I get it, I do, part of him died six years ago when his psycho ex killed herself to spite him, along with their unborn child. But that doesn’t stop me from missing the fun-loving guy he used to be, the man he was before Anastasia destroyed him.

Call me coldhearted, but I’m glad she’s out of the picture. I never liked her. She made his life a living hell, even before she did what she did. He deserved so much better than that.

She ruined him in the worst possible way, and I’ve spent the last six years trying to get a semblance of my old friend back. He hasn’t dated anyone since. Sure, like me, he has his fair share of women, but those hookups are a one-time thing, purely a release and nothing more. They also come with a set of rules. Rules he sticks by. I try not to delve too much into it because it upsets me to see what’s become of him.

“Hey,” I say when he’s close enough to hear me.

“Hey.”