Deal Takers (Dealing with Love 2)

the fact that you wouldn’t answer my texts all week.” She digs in the back pocket of her jeans and produces her cell phone. “You’re forcing me to pull out the big guns. Just remember, you brought this on yourself.”

“What are you doing?” I ask nervously, as she thumbs through her phone and taps a button.

She switches the call to speaker and holds her hand out. I try grabbing it from her the second I see the contact name but the call connects after the first ring.

“Mio caro,” my mother says, in her thickly-accented voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

“Hi, Mamma,” Charlee replies. “I’m over at Brody’s. You’re on speakerphone.”

Let’s pause for a minute to rewind. Do you remember when I told you that my mother is Sicilian? What I failed to mention, was that she’s really Sicilian...as in born and raised on that tiny island off the coast of Italy. She came to the U.S. for college which is where she met my dad and she never moved back. Anyway, did you ever see that episode of Everybody Loves Raymond where the Barones went to Italy? There was this teeny little grey-haired woman that everyone was afraid of despite her small stature. Super pushy...always trying to feed everyone. You know who I’m talking about now? Well, that’s my mom. She always means well, and Charlee and I never wanted for affection, but she can be a little...overbearing at times.

“Brody! You need to call your mother more,” my mom scolds. “Your sister call me every day like good girl. You need to take lessons from Carlotta.”

I glare at Charlee. “Yes, Mamma.”

She smirks in return. “Mamma, Brody is upset over a girl and he won’t talk to me about it.”

“B.J.!” my mom shrieks. “Why you no tell me you have a lady in your life?”

Yep, she called me B.J. It’s her affectionate little nickname for me that makes me cringe every time I hear it. Do I really need to explain why? All the future parents out there, hear me out. If your kid’s first name starts with a B and their middle name starts with a J, please never, ever, cut it down to initials. Trust me when I tell you that it will save your child years of embarrassment.

“Mom, there’s nothing to tell.”

“He’s lying, Mom,” Charlee says. “He didn’t show up for dinner last night.”

She laughs when I flip her off.

“Tell your Mamma what’s wrong, amore. Carlotta, you make sure he eats before you go home.”

I groan. “I’m twenty-seven-years-old, Mom. I don’t need my mother or my annoying sister to feed me all the time or interfere with my love life.”

“Ha!” Charlee shouts. “So you admit that this is about a girl!”

I grab the phone out of her hand. “Mom, I love you, but I’m not discussing this with you right now. I will call you later, okay?”

“B.J., if you no call me by tomorrow, I will drive to city to make you talk to me in person,” she threatens.

“Bye, Mom.” I press the END button and throw the phone back to Charlee with a little more force than necessary. “You’re an asshole. I can’t believe you did that.”

She shrugs. “You asked for it.”

I sit on my recliner and pop the foot rest open. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Just drop it, Charlotte.”

She takes a seat on the couch cushion closest to me. “B, I don’t like seeing you like this. Talk to me. Who has you all wound up and why? I didn’t even know you were dating someone.”

“I’m not technically dating anyone.”

“But there is someone you’re fucking?”

I sigh. “Rainey.”

She raises her brows in surprise. “The nurse?”

“Yeah.”

“When did this start? I thought you said she was involved with someone.”

“That’s been over for a long time,” I tell her. “It’s only been five weeks or so since we started hooking up.”