Mother Fluffer (Billionaire Bad Boys 3.6)

Kline: Shit.

Will: But Cass and Georgia (who are in this group text) have him right now in the name of a prank. I have to run into a delivery now, but I thought you should know.

“Goddammit, Cass,” Georgia muttered. “Kline is going to be so pissed at me.”

“Hot makeup sex later?” I suggested, and she flashed an irritated glare in my direction.

Geez. Tough crowd.

Kline: Georgia, what’s going on? Is everything okay?

Georgia: Everything is fine. No need to worry, baby.

Kline: Do you have Stan?

Georgia: Maybe…

Kline: Georgia.

Georgia: Yes.

Kline: Does Thatch know?

Georgia: Uhh… I’m not sure?

Kline: Georgia…

Georgia: Ugh. No. He doesn’t know. But in my defense, he didn’t even call me or you in the first place when he found out that our dog was gone.

Kline: Jesus Christ. Are you two fucking with me right now?

“Uh-oh,” Georgia muttered and looked at me with wide eyes. “I think the cat might be out of the bag.”

More like horse out of the barn.

I quickly sent Kline a text.

Me: Come on, Big-dick. You know it’s a little bit funny.

Kline: A fake kidnapping?

Why did everyone keep acting like I’d kidnapped an actual human being? I mean, I wasn’t a sociopath. I just borrowed a dog for a little bit, right?

Me: Not exactly kidnapping. I just borrowed him for a little bit. Honestly, I think he needed the break from Walter.

Kline: This is crazy. You know that, right?

Me: I think my scale o’ crazy and your scale o’ crazy are a little different, Big-dick.

Kline: Ya think?

Me: So… does this mean you’re going to tell Thatch?

Kline: What do you think?

Me: That you want to be in on the prank, too?

Kline: I think you need to keep thinking.

“I think Big-dick is a little irritated,” I said and glanced at Georgia.

“Yep,” she answered with a little pop of her p. “I think that’s a fair assessment.”

Son. Of. A. Biscuit.

Standing on the other side of the nursery door with my ear pressed forcefully to the surface, I listened for signs that it was safe to check on Walter. He’d been raising all holy hell in there for nearly an hour, and after the conversations with Georgia and my wife that all but confirmed my prank suspicions, I wasn’t sure this was going to end the way Cassie thought it would.

She’d never get the months she’d spent getting the nursery just right back, and it would be a minor miracle if anything in that room came out unscathed. And so far, she’d fairly efficiently screwed herself out of having one of her biggest dreams realized.

Fuck, I’ve got to come up with a Plan C…or is it D? Hell, I don’t even know what letter I’m on at this point.

All was quiet, and even though I was scared, I knew there wouldn’t be a better time to go in than now. Hopefully, he’s fucking sleeping off his breakdown.

I barely had the door cracked, a line of light cutting into the dark room, when my phone started to ring in my pocket.

“Oh, shit!” I yelled, struggling to reach into my pants like they were on fire. Shit, shit, shit.

“Reowwww,” I heard Walter cry, the noise of a fluffing cat warrior, as his body slammed into the door and forced it back closed.

Jesus, that was a close one. Finally, with my phone in hand but none of the joy inside that my ringtone normally brought, I got a look at the caller ID.

Kline calling.

Oh, fuck me.

Sometimes I truly regretted the advances in technology that allowed someone to contact you whenever the fuck they wanted. Like, why couldn’t he be in the car, without access to a phone, while I could say I was in the yard and missed the call as a backup? I mean, what was this world coming to that he had a cell phone and I had a cell phone, and if I didn’t answer it, people assumed something was up?

Gah.

Okay, I’m stalling. But Kline is the one guy who will always intimidate me. He’s just so fucking clever it’s sneaky. Like he’s reading my thoughts and shit. I don’t like it.

At nearly the end of my “Thong Song” ringtone, when I knew he had to be moments away from getting sent to voice mail, I swiped my finger across the screen.

I might as well be signing my death warrant.

“Hello?”

“What’s going on?”

Shit. Fuck.

“What do you mean? Nothing is going on. Just hanging out with the kids.” Trying not to die at the paws of your cat because I lost his lover. Man, I didn’t do a very good impression of innocent. I’d have to rely solely on my ability to lie. “Are you still at work?”

“Yes. Why are you talking so fast? What’s wrong with your voice?”

“What?” I squeaked. Forcing my voice back down to its normal timbre, I went on. “Why do you think something is wrong?”

“You’re breathing hard.”

“I was chasing the kids.” Searching my damn house like I am on an episode of CSI for clues and trying to crack the code to confirm my wife’s fluffing scheme.

“Right.”

God. Maybe I should just tell him. Why was I so reluctant to tell him in the first place? Because you fucking love him and his wife, and you don’t want to face the fact that they may actually tire of your irresponsibility.

“Kline…I…”

“Yeah?”

“What time do you think you’ll be at Wes and Winnie’s for dinner?”

He sighed deep and long, and I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. I could have sworn it sounded like disappointment, but I’d chickened out. I hadn’t actually told him the thing I’d done that would make him sound like that. I just wished I’d lost Walter. He would have been cheering me on. But he actually fucking liked Stan. Of course.

“You know, I should come over there and make you explain everything right now, but I won’t.”

“You won’t?” I asked, completely confused by the turn of conversation and cautiously hoping Kline’s intelligence was so honed that he’d come to the conclusion that I’d lost his dog without my even saying it. Don’t ask me why, but I felt like it might be easier that way. It’s pretty fucking hard to break the news to your best friend that you’ve lost one of his pets. His favorite pet, actually.

“No. Because you’re all fucking crazy, every last one of you, and somehow, I signed on to live in the middle of it forever.”

“What are you—”

“I’ll see you at six.”

The line clicked, and the call went dead before I could say another word.

Dread lined my stomach at the thought of our friendship changing. We’d been a trio for fucking years, and I didn’t want to see myself become the extra. Everyone knew the extra was Wes right now, but one more move and I’d be even lower than him on Kline’s shit list.

Speaking of the shittiest of us all…where the fuck was Wes with the flyers?

Thatch: Where the fuck are you, dude? I thought you’d come help me look. And make the fucking flyers you kept going on about.

When several minutes passed, I decided I couldn’t wait anymore. Sure, I thought Georgia and Cassie sounded a little weird, but I didn’t want to leave the dog unattended if he really was here. Plus, I was going to need to find a way to calm Walter down. I couldn’t transport him into the city as he was.

Three clicks into my recent calls to call Georgia back—I knew I could break her—a text message popped up onto my screen.

Will.

What did he want?

I clicked out of the keypad and into the messages quickly.

Will: Georgia and Cassie have Stan. This is a prank that I wasn’t supposed to tell you about. Consider my debt for your contribution to Mel’s clinic paid.

Of course it’s a prank. I should have known Cassie would be out for blood after I’d harmlessly joked about losing Ace this morning.

I’d just joked. What kind of a sick person really executes stealing a living thing?

My wife. That was who. And truthfully, under different circumstances, probably me.

But, fuck, that was different. I’d be on the other side of that.

Thatch: Thanks, Will. God, I was panicked.

Will: Good. Now you can call them, and this whole thing can be over.

Thatch: Call them? Are you kidding me? I’m not making it that easy on my wife.

Dialing Kline again, I waited the two short rings before he answered. “What? Did you lose my kid now?”

“You knew?”

“Of course I fucking knew, asshole. I know everything. Next time, lose the fucking cat for shit’s sake.”

“Right. Of course, K.” I winced before deciding I wasn’t completely in the wrong here. “Though, if you really analyze this, this is more our wives’ fault. I’m mostly a victim.”

“Good Christ, I hate when you say things that are true.”

I nodded to myself. “You aren’t alone. A lot of people feel that way about me.”

“So what are you doing now?”

I was going to make this motherfluffing day my bitch, that’s what. Time for Thatcher’s plans to come to heel.

“I’m gonna go fucking stalk them.” I knew I’d downloaded an app to GPS track my wife for a reason.

Kline let out a deep sigh.

“Oh,” I added, before I forgot. “Are there extra car seats for Julia and Evie at your house? I forgot to get one earlier. And a crate for the devil.”