Barrett
MY BODY IS SWEATY FROM the workout with my personal trainer. Instead of going to the gym, he came here. We worked out with free weights and did some simple cardio.
I strip off my soaked t-shirt when my phone rings. I see it’s Daphne, but I answer it anyway. I still need her father’s endorsement, so I can’t just ignore her like I want to. That wouldn’t go over well.
“Hey,” I say, sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island.
“Hey, Barrett,” she sings in her melodramatic way. “How are you?”
“Good. Just finished a workout.”
“Nice. Do you have any plans this evening?”
I look around the empty kitchen and shrug. “No, not really. Just some work I need to finish up. I got a little behind today.”
Memories of Alison on the porch of my family home makes me feel warm all over. It’s normally an off-putting feeling to have a woman anywhere near my family and our things, but with her, it seems normal. Organic.
“Barrett?”
I flip back to reality. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I was saying that I have a thing with Daddy tonight and was hoping you’d be able to go with me. You know how it goes, all those stuffy men talking about boring stuff. I need someone to go with so I don’t slit my throat.”
“Is it the Raparasey Dinner?”
“Yeah, I think so. It’s the one you went to with me a few times at Seaton Block. I just . . . I need your hot ass to go with me again.”
Chuckling, I stand and head to the fridge for a bottle of water. “I’m sorry, Daph, but I can’t.”
“Why?” she pouts. I can hear the disappointment in her tone, maybe even a little anger.
“I told you I have work to do,” I point out.
“Yeah, but you always go with me. And think of all the connections you can make, sugar. It’s good for you. And Daddy will be there, of course, and I know he hasn’t officially endorsed you yet . . .”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t or you won’t?” she presses.
“It’s really the same thing, isn’t it?”
“No!” she exclaims. “It isn’t. You always go with me. We’ve always bailed each other out, Barrett, and tonight—I need you.”
The last couple of words are so heavy, so full of implication, that I feel my shoulders fall with the weight.
“You don’t need me,” I scoff.
“I do.”
She reminds me of a little girl, pouting to get her way. I wonder if she’s always been this annoying, and if so, why I’m just realizing how bad it is.
I remember the way these things usually end, and that’s with her ass up in the air, her big, fake tits bouncing around like the balloons they are. That, too, usually doesn’t bother me, but tonight, it makes me feel uninspired to see it again.
“Look, Daphne, I’m sorry. I really am. But I’m really busy and I’m going to continue to be for the foreseeable future.”
The air changes between us. I can feel it through the phone and the miles that separate us.
“Is this because of the campaign or that girl I’ve heard you’re seeing?”