His Temporary Assistant

This wasn’t the first trip I’d made over here, but we were in early innings. My new apartment was still mostly a barren wasteland. I’d skipped hiring a moving company, considering I hadn’t had far to go and could call on a number of fit dudes like myself to help out.

Oddly enough, most of them had become suddenly unreachable despite knowing for weeks the days I’d planned to move. August would be over later after work, but I couldn’t count on any of the rest of the slugs I knew. As if wives and children and gainful employment could keep them that busy.

Whatever.

Lucky, however, used any attempt to show off and looked at carrying heavy furniture as the best opportunity going. So far, his plan had not borne much fruit, although a couple of the gooey-eyed young baristas at Macy’s coffee shop had come out a few times to offer us refreshments. Lucky hadn’t been too keen on any of them, since most of those girls were barely legal.

He had some standards. Not a lot, mind you, but some.

He jogged up beside me as I was dragging out the small bookcase that doubled as a nightstand in my bedroom. “Dude, there’s some kind of chick party in there, and I think they’re stripping.”

I snorted and set my bookcase on the pavement. “I think heat stroke has finally warped your brain.” I swiped my forearm over my sweaty forehead and grabbed for my already sweating can of lemonade. “It has to be ninety out here.”

“Ninety-five,” he informed me, flashing me his smart watch. “Not that you’ve been doing much to get sweaty, you lazy fuck.”

I shrugged. “Conserving energy for when the help is gone is a valid strategy. We both know you’ll only stick around as long as there’s a chance you’ll get laid.”

He waggled his brows at me. “I didn’t know that was on the table.”

“Not in your fondest dreams, pal. I don’t care if you unload every piece of furniture by yourself and decorate too.”

“I don’t fucking decorate. That’s what sisters and girlfriends are for. You’ve got one.”

“A sister? Definitely. Not that she has enough time for that shit. She’s not even around right now, remember?”

My baby sister Ivy was in LA with her husband and their baby daughter Rhiannon for a week, which had been a tactical error on Ivy’s part since we were smack dab in the middle of a heat wave. Her ice cream truck Rolling Cones would’ve made a killing if she’d been open for longer than the banker’s hours she kept the truck operating on while she was away. She had a good crew to help her, but she preferred shorter shifts when she wasn’t around to manage things. If she’d bee

n able to stay open until 10 pm on these sweltering nights as she usually did, she probably could’ve funded Rhi’s college education.

Not that her fancy rich husband needed any help with that.

I wasn’t bitter, toiling away on a teacher’s salary. Mostly because I loved my kids. I enjoyed their curiosity and enthusiasm and sometimes even their mischief-making. Aug claimed my affinity for children came from the fact that I hadn’t matured past twelve myself, but I would’ve said at least thirteen. Maybe fourteen on a good week.

In any case, I was happy with my lot. I wouldn’t have minded a bit more green to grease the wheels, but then again, who would?

Lucky tied back his long hair, swatting away the sweaty pieces sticking to his neck. “Yeah, Ivy’s getting used to that high-rolling life. Next thing you know, she’ll move out there. Probably get a pad on the beach. That’d be something to have a place to crash at on the west coast, huh?”

I didn’t say anything. My family was close. Sure, we had our occasional spats like any other. Now and then, we didn’t speak for days at a time. Life got busy.

But I didn’t want to lose my sister across the damn country. I definitely didn’t want to only see my niece on FaceTime and for occasional vacations. I was her favorite uncle. The fun one who’d hired a clown for her last birthday—Lucky, of course—and helped her whip up and down the sidewalk on her tricycle. She’d had a small accident and busted open her lip on account of the raised lip on the sidewalk, but she’d healed fine, right? And she had a hell of a story for the kids at playgroup. You know, for when she could talk coherently.

She was a sentient toddler now, so I was enjoying my little RhiRhi more with each passing month. But infants were another story. My other niece, Vivian, was a bit younger, so we were still working on communication beyond goo-goo gaa-gaa.

I wasn’t one for babies. Nope, never. Not my bag. I preferred kids once they got past the drooling and excessive pooping stages.

Lucky straightened and grabbed a soda for himself, popping the top. “Well, if Ivy can’t help, then you gotta get your mom involved. They live for that stuff.”

“Are you kidding me? She’s on like fourteen town committees. She barely has time to sleep, when you factor in her work at the gallery. Besides, who says I need a damn decorator? I didn’t at my old place.”

He laughed and took a long drink. “Yeah, and it looked great. Not. Most of the rooms didn’t even look lived in. You can’t do that in a swank place like this, man. Forrester’s taken all these apartments up a notch.” He let out a belch. “When you invite over that sexy chick who strips for tuition, you don’t want to make her sit on the floor. Then again, if you do, I have a better chance.” He nudged my shoulder. “I still owe you one for the Sanders’ sisters.”

He’d imparted so much in that barrage of information, I didn’t even know what to unpack first. “Uh, the Sanders’ sisters were almost a year ago.”

“Hell no. They were this spring.” He frowned and drank more. “Weren’t they?”

“Try last fall. And I didn’t hook up with both, just Judy. You just didn’t like that they both weren’t immediately bowled over by your baby greens.”

“Says you. What happened with you guys?”