The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs 2)

“Troy, come back here! You can have my last pancake!”

Troy chuckles again, avoiding my death glare.

“No,” I shout back to Dante. “Those are for you!”

Troy lifts the gift bag in his hand. “Mind if I give him one of his presents early?”

“No,” I sigh, moving toward my bedroom, “go right ahead. One of us needs to do better parenting today.”

“Ahhh, it’s okay, Mommy.” The crack of his hand on my ass fills the room and my blood boils as the fire spreads. Troy’s eyes remain fixed on my burning ass as my jaw unhinges. “Look at that bounce. I would say that’s supple.”

I lean in with a hiss. “Do that again, and I’ll chop off your nuts, blend them up, and serve them at his party.”

He leans in, all two hundred plus pounds of him, and whispers low in my ear. “You look good, Mommy. Trust me.”

“Troy!” Dante summons again.

“I’m coming,” Troy replies, a little exasperated.

I can’t help my smile.

“He’s all yours, neighbor.”

Troy

Clarissa showers as I sit with Dante while he finishes his pancakes. He flips on his TV and begins to change the channel when an old Looney Tunes cartoon comes on.

“Hey, bud, don’t discount Looney Tunes. Those are the best.”

“They’re old.”

“Yes, but they’re classic. Just watch for a few minutes. Trust me.”

“K.” Dante sits back, taking another bite of his pancakes as the screen pans in on a little green frog. I scan my newsfeed replaying last night’s highlights while trying to ignore the fact that Clarissa is naked mere feet away from me. It’s childish, but the woman is a knock-out. And her comments about being too old and not coed enough aren’t jiving well with me. Why were they having that conversation in the first place? Is she curious about me? Does she ever think about that night? Does she think about me in more than a ‘baby daddy’ sense? If so, I hope her ass is still burning from my slap, and her other cheeks are still red from the compliment I meant. She’s fucking fire. One of the hottest women I’ve ever laid eyes on. And she thinks she wouldn’t be enough for me? Given the chance, I’d show her otherwise in a heartbeat.

Loud laughter erupts from Dante, interrupting my reverie. Chuckling at his reaction, I look up from my phone to see his mouth is parted, hysterical spittle running down his chin as he watches the frog come to life, belting out opera. He’s laughing so hard I think he may choke on his pancakes. “Easy there, killer.” I can’t help but laugh with him at the way he’s responding to the cartoon. I quickly Google the character’s name and find it’s Michigan J. Frog, saving it in my arsenal of things my kid loves.

Dante’s still hysterical when Clarissa pops her head in, her hair wet from her shower. The smell of coconut permeates the room. My dick jolts to attention as she joins us on Dante’s small mattress, all curves in tight-fitting jeans and a loose T-shirt. She looks between us, a clear face without a stitch of makeup, and I almost forget myself and push a loose strand of hair from her forehead. “What in the world is going on?”

Dante’s eyes are trained on the frog who remains mute while in the presence of others before bursting into song once he’s alone with his keeper. And then Dante’s laughing again, his whole body shaking as Clarissa looks on, incredulous.

“I’ve never, ever, heard him laugh like this,” she tells me over his shaking frame. He’s hysterical.

“I told him not to count out Looney Tunes. I guess this is his first time seeing them?”

“Guess so,” she says, beaming brightly as our son starts to choke. I pat Dante on the back, and he dodges my touch, so he doesn’t miss any of the cartoon.

“Wow,” I mouth, widening my eyes at Clarissa.

“This is definitely something.”

The frog begins to sing again, and Dante’s laugh echoes out of his bedroom, as tears pour down his face. “Oh, my God, Mommy,” he exclaims, wiping his tears away. “That’s the funniest thing I ever saw.”

“Baby, what in the world?” Clarissa laughs with him in confusion, looking to me for answers. I’m just as clueless as he ignores us both, zeroing in on his new hero.

“You must be Parker.” I stand, clad in a pointy hat that Dante insisted we all wear. I’ve seen her numerous times going in and out of Clarissa’s apartment, but never up close. The woman is strikingly beautiful and full of piss and vinegar as she sizes me up. I can feel my balls shrinking under her withering glare.

“Does Clarissa know you’re answering her door?”