Page 10 of My Ex-Best Men (Ex Marks the Spot #4)

***Claire***

B right and early the next morning I caught one of the three cabs working Manatee Key and headed over to the premier trailer park on the island.

The Golden Coast was a mix of new and old RVs and trailers, each with its own wildly differing owner.

Growing up I’d lived with Grandma and Uncle Sal in a single wide trailer at the back of the park, next to an African woman who sang me to sleep without knowing it for the first two years of my life in Florida and a giant Russian man who’d scared the hell out of me.

When Grandma passed and it was just me and Uncle Sal he’d moved us into a fancier trailer, one of the silver bullet ones, at the front of the park, right on the beach.

Uncle Sal was still in the same trailer, though he’d made some upgrades.

When I got out of the taxi and took a long look at it I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

There was a mural of Uncle Sal painted on the side of the trailer.

In a Taylor Swift Blank Space move, there were names painted and crossed out all over the spots not taken up by his face.

Hot pink lawn furniture and human sized statues of tropical birds filled his small yard and there was a radio somewhere playing techno a little too loud.

The trailer door swung open and Uncle Sal stood in the doorway in all his glory, pausing to give me time to appreciate his dramatics.

The man was closing in on seventy-years-old but he got around better than most men in their forties.

He’d been to visit me in London more than Sophia had, just to sample the locals, according to him.

He stood there in a floor length pink silk robe trimmed in hot pink feathers.

His balding head was covered in a platinum blonde wig cut into a sharp bob and he had a long cigarette holder between his lips, smoking an ultra slim cigarette.

Happy with his purposeful pause he stepped out of the trailer in a pair of kitten heels and a leopard print speedo. The robe didn’t hide enough for my liking but I’d learned a long, long time ago that no one changed Uncle Sal.

“What in the hell are you wearing, child? You look like one of those lesbians down at The Flamingo on ladies night. Are you gay now? Oh, lord, did I give it to you? Anita Bryant was right! It is catching!” He waved his hand at me and shuddered.

“I am turning over in my grave, honey. I taught you better than this. I couldn’t do much for your grandmother, god rest her boring soul, but I thought I’d made an impact on you. ”

I rolled my eyes and wrapped him in a tight hug.

He was a tiny man, barely over five-feet tall, and I felt massive next to him.

“Turn down the theatrics, Uncle Sal. You are not turning over in your grave, seeing as how you’re still alive and kicking.

And I’m not a lesbian, even though I wish I was. Especially right now.”

“Boy troubles?” He eyed my outfit again. “God, honey. Let’s get you inside before someone sees us together. Where is that cute little red number I bought for you when I was in London last month?”

“Men. I’m a little too old for boys now.

” I followed him into his vintage themed hot pink home that had once been ours to share.

It’d just gotten more pink over the years.

I could see a poodle skirt hanging on a garment rack waiting for him.

“That red number is safely in the back of my closet at home. The airline lost my luggage, though. I was hoping you had a few things of mine still. And that crack about Grandma being boring was rude. I hope she haunts you tonight.”

“Oh, honey, if your grandma poked her head into this trailer at night, she’d throw her ghostly back out trying to get away from all the debauchery.

You’re not the only one with men troubles.

Although my troubles are more along the lines of who I’m going to bring home tonight.

They do get jealous, my lovers.” In a twirl of feathers and silk Uncle Sal led the way to what had once been my room.

“I would never keep anything in this trailer that could offend my delicate sensibilities but I do have a collection of clothing that just so happens to be in your size and correct coloring.”

“Uncle Sal…”

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask me about my current lovers?” He draped himself over a chaise lounge and pointed to the closet. “Take your pick, honey.”

“Please, Uncle Sal, tell me all about your current lovers. I’m just dying to know.” I couldn’t have sounded more sarcastic if I’d tried but he was never one to care about nuance.

“I was dating a young man named Paul the last time I saw you in London, right? Well, I broke up with him when he suggested we stay in on a Friday night and watch some dating show. Do I look like I’m ready to curl up and die like that?

Ugh. After him there was a man named Donnie.

He liked the color orange. Then there was Mark, Damon, and a beautiful ginger straight from Scotland.

They were just a little dull for me. Oh, then I dated a guy from Arkansas.

He had all of his teeth and the cutest little accent but when he called out to god, he was actually praying and that just threw me.

I’m used to my men calling out to god in a lot of other ways, but never that. ”

I’d stopped trying to count Uncle Sal’s lovers a long, long time ago. “Are you being safe?”

He cackled. “I’m too goddamn old to catch an STI, honey.

I wrap it up each and every time. I keep a cabinet full of condoms in there if you need some.

I’ve got them in every flavor and size. If you’re like me, you’ll want to grab them from the right side of the cabinet. We’re size queens in this trailer.”

I closed my eyes and told myself that I could hear every traumatizing thing he said without letting it leave me shaking in the corner. “Uncle Sal…”

“I’m not finished with my list yet, honey.” He jabbed his perfectly manicured fingertip at the closet. “You can look while you listen, surely?”

I cut my eyes at him. “Alright, old man. Watch the sass.”

His blue eyes were still as bright as in the photos I’d seen of him when he was a young man.

He grinned at me and crossed his legs. “You’re the only person I let boss me around, Claire.

Your grandma never understood it but I tried telling her over and over again that you’re my other half.

You’re a chip off of this beautiful block. ”

I scoffed. “Me? You think I’m a chip off the block? Your block?”

“Yep.” His laughter was musical. “You’re going to surprise yourself one of these days, honey, and when you do, I’m going to be right there watching and cheering you on. I just hope you choose to do it soon because I can’t expect to be in this fine form for another thirty years.”

A deep, rumbled laugh from the bedroom doorway signaled the arrival of a man so beautiful that he took my breath away. He looked like an oiled up Latin soap opera star. “You’ll be in that fine form for longer than that if you keep going the way you do now, Sal. You wear me out and I’m hardly old.”