Nice Buns (Cheap Thrills 7)

Rolling onto my side on the floor and shoving my arm under the cushions my head was on, I listened as he revealed how the husband’s last girlfriend was twenty years younger than the wife.

“I don’t get it?”

Laying with her head near my feet, Tabby’s glassy eyes turned to me. “Don’t get what? It’s obvious she killed him in a jealous rage. I mean, how many times can you look the other way as that turbo wank bangs every vagina he comes across?”

“Just divorce the guy.” I threw my free arm out toward the television. “That’s why God invented divorce—”

“Actually—” Sayla mumbled, then thought better about saying whatever she’d been about to. “Forget it.”

Undeterred, I pointed out, “My ex had eleven affairs that I know of”—something which had been revealed during the divorce—“and he’s still breathing.

“The last girlfriend I know of is eight years younger than me, but I never once felt like killing him. Maybe clamping his eyes open and spraying them with mace until the can was empty, but that’s different.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re a sweetie,” Jacinda slurred as she tried to open the cocktail she’d just gotten out of the freezer, frowning when the bottle kept rolling away from her. “Slippy little sucker.” A snort came out of her when she realized she’d put it on the counter on its side. “Oops.”

Looking at Tabby, I asked, “Would you kill Dave if he cheated on you like that?”

“Yes,” she hissed, then looked to the side. “Maybe?”

“I’ll bet you couldn’t do it.”

Sitting up and crossing her legs under her, she accepted her glass filled with the new cocktail from Jacinda. “What are the signs he’s cheating on you?”

Sayla paused the episode as I copied how Tabby was sitting and looked into the glass my friend had just passed me. “What’s this one?”

“A Mo-Mo-Mojito with a twist,” she told me as she sank into the couch. “I don’t know what the twist is or what the Mo-Mo part is, unless they’re counting on you being drunk when you said it, though.”

I loved Mojitos. At least, I did until I took a sip of this one. As soon as the icy fluid touched my tongue, my taste buds recoiled, one of my eyes did a rapid blinking thing, and my body shuddered.

The Mo-Mo likely stood for ‘mo-mo-more lime and alcohol.’

Funnily enough, all three women did the same thing, but Sayla’s eyelids seemed to have fused themselves together as she sucked her cheeks in.

“Did they make it with moonshine?”

“I think it’s the stuff you use to get paint off brushes,” Tabby wheezed. “I can’t drink that.” She put the glass down on the ground, then picked it up and took another mouthful. “Why am I still drinking it?”

Prying her eyelids apart, Sayla did another shudder. “Damn, that’s fierce.”

I wasn’t going to argue with that. Whatever company it was who made these definitely didn’t skimp on the ingredients. Each box came with instructions on how to serve them, including salting or sugaring the rim of the glass and adding twists or chunks of fruit. Unfortunately, we were too uncouth—or maybe just too tipsy now—to do that.

“You never answered my question,” Tabby said as she pushed her glass farther away from her across my hardwood floor. “What are the signs?”

Ah, yes, cheating.

“Secretive texts and phone calls, higher phone bills than normal, leaving randomly for ‘work’ excuses, staying longer at work, coming home wearing different outfits than he left in… There’s a lot of them.”

Her eyes widened then narrowed. “That lying son of a bitch,” she hissed as she jumped to her feet and began pacing around us. “He does the secretive texts and calls all of the time, and don’t even get me started on how often he has to leave for ‘work’”—she air-quoted—“reasons.

“And he never comes home wearing the same thing he left in.” Squatting down, she picked up the glass and downed most of it.

“Uh,” Jacinda drawled, “he’s the sheriff, babe.”

Tabby glared at her. “And? What’s your point? This isn’t the Wild West anymore, girl, where the woman stays at home while our men go out philandering in saloons.”

Wow, this was more random than usual.

“I think she’s saying that he likely does have to leave for work-related reasons. Same goes for his calls and texts,” I explained slowly.

“And his dad leaves wearing his work pants and black polo shirt but usually comes home with a casual t-shirt on, so I figure Dave’s probably got the same reasons Alex does.”

All of them looked at me at the same time. Damn it, I went and mentioned him.

“Oh, he does, does he?” Sayla winked just as she took a mouthful of her drink, meaning the eye stayed shut for longer than it would have if she hadn’t.

“You ever see him naked?” Jacinda asked bluntly. “I mean, you can see into his house when his curtains aren’t shut, so you ever see his ding-dong going gong-gong?” She opened her legs and moved her arm from side to side like a grandfather clock’s pendulum.