Rhett

There’s a girl I’ve never seen before sitting at my kitchen island when I get home from the hotel. She’s eating cereal from one of my bowls and my brother is nowhere to be found.

“Hi.” My voice is flat, unamused. I pull my key from the lock and shut the door.

“Oh, hi!” She climbs off the bar stool, coming at me with open arms and a huge grin. “You must be Locke’s older brother. He told me so much about you.”

She smells like cereal and milk, faded perfume, and day-old alcohol breath, and she’s wearing last night’s dress in a shade of nightclub teal. When she climbs back onto the bar stool, the hem rises up her thighs. I don’t think she’s wearing panties.

“Locke,” I yell his name. A second later, he comes strutting down the hall, his hair wet from the shower as he straightens his tie. He better not have fucked her on my bed. I’ll kill him.

“What’s up?” He wears the smile of a recently laid man, and he takes a seat beside her.

“You play hockey, right?” the girl asks.

I nod.

“So, like, how long have you played?” she asks.

“Long as I can remember,” I say, starting up the coffee maker.

“Do you know Trent Merritt?” she asks. “He plays for the Portland Eagles.”

“Yeah,” I say.

“I dated him last year,” she says, sticking her chest out like she’s proud. I don’t tell her he’s the biggest womanizer in the NHL. “Things didn’t work out, which was too bad because he was so much fun. But I guess everything happens for a reason. Never would’ve swiped up on this guy if I were still with Trent!”

She reaches for my brother’s face, cupping his chin in her hands.

“You guys met on Date Snap?” I ask.

The woman nods. “Yes! Can you believe it? Who’d have thought I’d be swiping up on the inventor of the dating app? It’s crazy. I guess it was meant to be.”

As soon as she looks away, my brother sticks his tongue out like he’s disgusted, and he rolls his eyes. I vaguely recall him bragging recently about how Date Snap is mostly used for “vexting,” which is video sex messaging, and that people mostly use it to find hookups, not dates.

This girl was clearly shopping for her own prince charming. Guess she didn’t get the memo.

Locke slips his hand around her waist, gently coaxing her off the seat and toward the door. “Thanks for last night, babe. I’ve got an early meeting. Call you later?”

She smiles and giggles, sliding her hand up his shoulder before rising on her toes and giving him a kiss.

“Bye, babe,” she says as he gets the door. “Nice meeting you, Locke’s brother!”

I don’t have a chance to respond before my brother shuts the door and deadbolts it.

“God, I thought she was never going to leave,” he says in one exhaled, jumbled breath.

“All this money you have and you still insist on bringing girls back to my place.” I shake my head. “This city is full of hotels. Next time, fucking get one.”

“Dude, calm down.” Locke laughs, swiping an apple from a bowl on the counter. “It was just a one-time thing.”

“A one-time thing that you do all the time with various other women.”

Locke’s hands fly into the air. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don’t hate on me just because I’ve got it figured out.”

“Got what figured out?”

“The secret to happiness,” he says, leaning on his elbows. He chomps into a bite of apple, letting the juice drip down his chin before catching it. “That girl? I don’t even know her name. Couldn’t tell you. But those tits? I’ll never forget those tits as long as I live.”

Rolling my eyes, I say, “Am I supposed to be jealous of you?”

“Yeah. You are. Because I’ve got it all down to a science, brother,” he says. “This is the life. I’ll settle down when I’m fifty and I can find some hot chick half my age who doesn’t mind saggy balls if they’re attached to a multi-millionaire. You’d be surprised at how easy it is to find girls like that.”

“Guess everyone needs ambitions.” I shake my head.

“Only a schmuck would spend the best years of his life tying himself down to some girl when there’s a goddamned smorgasbord right outside his door.” Locke takes another bite. “This city is ripe, Rhett. Ripe.”

“Whatever.”

“One of these days, you’re going to realize I was right. You’re going to see that girls our age? They want marriage and babies—and if they tell you they don’t, they’re full of shit. Girls our age will tie you down, cut off your balls before you have a chance to say, ‘I do,’ and you’ll wake up ten, fifteen years from now, wondering why you let yourself go and why no one wants to fuck you anymore.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what’s going to happen. You’re right, Locke. How’d you get so wise?” I pour myself a coffee and let him yammer on, my sarcasm clearly going straight over his head. He just hasn’t been in love yet. He’s twenty-five and he thinks he knows everything about everything. “You forget there are other alternatives to just fucking everything that walks.”

“Like what?” he huffs.

“Fuck buddies.”

“Nobody does that anymore.” Locke rolls his eyes.

“It’s safer,” I say. “And less disgusting. Anyway, I’m done with this conversation, and you sound like Dad, talking out of your ass like you know shit.”

Locke shuts up, his jaw slack. “Take that back.”

“Nope.”

“I do not sound like Dad.”

We used to make fun of our father growing up because he had a way of talking so people would listen, and sounding like he knew what he was talking about on top of that. And that’s why he was the best used Hyundai salesmen in all of Toledo.

“Anyway, this girl you’re fucking,” Locke says.

“She’s not some girl I’m fucking,” I cut him off. “And before you open your mouth again, you better make damn sure you’re not about to say something that’s going to make me want to sock you in the jaw, because I will.”

Locke stares, swallows the rest of his bite, and then tosses the core in the trash before heading to the door. “I’ll be in meetings all day. Trying to sell another one of my apps to some Chinese developer. Wish me luck. Not that I need it.”

“Yeah, yeah.”