Jason
“So—” Max cleared his throat awkwardly, “—never knew you could do it in a pool, and so fast. Inquiring minds would like to know.”
Reid and Colt both stopped picking up trash and looked up, smug expressions on their faces, as Max leaned against his rake.
“Was it your lack of… skill? Or was the water just really putting up a fight for your initial, uh, entry.”
“Max.” My teeth clenched. “Listen very carefully. I am the law. I will end you and make it look like an accident with planted evidence and enough cocaine to make you New Haven’s biggest pimp. Don’t, just… don’t.”
“I’ve never done cocaine.” Max seemed thoughtful. “I think it would be bad for my heart.”
“You’re like the lovechild of Barney from How I Met your Mother and Schmidt from New Girl — but with a severe cocaine addiction and no warning bell.”
“Ha!” He laughed. “No, but seriously… drugs are bad.”
I groaned.
“Man has a point,” Colt spoke up. “How long did you disappear for? One, maybe two minutes?”
“Bullshit!” I roared. “It was at least seven!”
“Seven, seven, seven.” Max started humping the rake. “Oh, sorry. I was thinking of the Friends episode where Monica draws the graph — funny, since I have my own graph. Maybe you should look at it. Might change your life.”
“I don’t need a damn graph!”
“Quick!” Max dropped the rake and crossed his arms. “What’s a two, three, six?”
I stared — I mean, really stared — wondering if I was about to be witness to one of Max’s brain cells exploding out of his ear. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Reid raised his hand.
“No!” I jabbed a finger at him. “I call bullshit on Max.”
Colt cleared his throat, then looked guiltily away, while Max just grinned and said, “Or how about a triple-seven?”
Reid actually groaned.
“You don’t have a graph.” I shook my head. “And even if you did, I’m not looking at it!”
“Changed. Colt’s. Life.” Max winked.
“YOU SWORE!” Colt picked up the rake from the ground and pointed it at Max’s lifted hands. “ON THE BIBLE!”
“First off, I had my fingers crossed behind my back. Second, I lied. It wasn’t my Grandma’s Bible. It was an old copy of The Hobbit, still sacred, still doesn’t count.”
Reid snorted out a laugh.
“Like you never looked at it,” Max taunted.
Reid shifted on his feet and coughed. “Maybe once or twice.”
“He has it memorized,” Colt offered.
I looked at the three of them.
Is this what marriage does to men? Makes them gossip about graphs and sexual positions over beer instead of watching football like a normal person?
“It’s laminated,” Max added in a cheerful voice. “Waterproof.”
I wiped my face with my hands and said in a gruff voice, “I’m an incredible sexual partner.”
“Two minutes—” Reid coughed.
“It’s been a while!” I fired back. “All right?”
It slipped.
My confession.
I had their attention.
“I think I want to see the graph now,” I muttered.
“No, let’s stay in this safe circle of trust,” Max said soothingly. “How long, exactly? Are we talking days… months…”
I looked away.
“…years?”
“Year,” I snapped. “I’ve been busy, thanks to you.”
“Ah yes, my signs.” Max nodded slowly. “But really, can’t you at least squeeze in a few one-night stands? A year? That’s… Well, Jason, I hate to say it, but you’re like the male version of being pregnant. It’s just no fun — no alcohol, no soft cheeses, no comfort in bed. Look at you! You’re past nine months and can’t even see your ankles! Shit, man! Pull yourself together.”
“You lost me at pregnant,” Colt added.
“Same,” Reid and I said in unison.
Max sighed. “Come on, it’s graph time.”
“What about the mess?” I looked around the littered lawn.
“Even prisoners get bathroom breaks,” Max muttered.
“Been to prison much?” I laughed.
“We’ve been over this. No more empty threats, Jason, especially when I’m about to change your life.”
Colt rubbed his hands together while Reid jogged after us.
The house was quiet except for the low hum of the TV.
Huh, maybe the girls went out?
We rounded the corner and walked down the hall and into my dad’s old office. All of his things were still in their place. It was the one room I hadn’t touched, because I didn’t have the heart to mess with the crown molding. His large mahogany desk filled half the room, and his leather chair made a squeaking noise when Max dropped into it and then felt underneath the desk as if he was searching for a key.
“The graph’s here?” I tapped the glass top.
Max looked slightly guilty as he felt around and then pulled out an honest-to-God laminated graph with a woman drawn on it, numbers on her body, complete with a color-coded key to the right, typed out like a freaking worksheet. “Your dad found Colt’s copy then got curious. What? I’m a giver. I let him have the original, and he hid it from your fox of a mom and told her he’d just been working out more and reading her Cosmo at night.”
“Stop.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Just stop.”
“What?” he laughed. “They’re old, not dead. Am I right? Plus, that mom of yours has sexy legs—”
“Max!”
“Fine.” He slid the graph cross the table. “Welcome to the Promised Land, my friend. Eat, eat, eat.” He stopped chanting and then pointed to the numbers. “May I suggest starting slowly? Maybe with a one, seven, one, so you’re stimulating both her breasts and her—”
“This is what hell must be like,” I interrupted.
“Don’t be a prude, Jason. Real men ask for help. That’s what we are, real men!”
Real men looking at a graph on how to please a woman. A graph made by Max. Friggin’ genius.
God, I hate him sometimes.
A knock sounded at the door, and then it cracked open.
And like a room full of middle schoolers caught with a Playboy, all of us fumbled around until I finally just sat on the desk on top of the graph and exhaled.
The door opened.
“What’s— What’s… up?” I drummed my fingers against the glass covering the desk.
“Wow! Two what’s?” Milo’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you guys in Dad’s office?”
“Strategizing,” Max said in a clear voice. “Why else would we be in here? I mean…” he started to nervous laugh, “…it’s not like we’re looking at porn!”
“That would be weird,” Reid added with another burst of laughter.
“Max…” she crossed her arms, “…why’s Jason sweating?”
“How the hell do I know? Maybe he has an STD from chlorine?”
“Huh?” Milo squinted.
“Max, stop talking,” I said in a hushed voice. “Anyway, we should probably get back to work.”
“Yup!” Reid agreed, too quickly, while Colt stretched his arms and yawned, walking past Milo as if he hadn’t gotten advice on how to please her from another guy.
While my sister watched them leave, I slid the paper out from behind me with my fingers.
Max jerked it and hid it on his person.
Milo stopped us at the door. She cleared her throat then held out her hand.
Max hung his head then slowly pulled the sheet out from under his shirt and handed it to her.
“Good boy.” She patted him on the head. “And you missed eight.”
“THE HELL I DID!” he roared.
She just winked and said, “It was a later addition. You can thank Colt for that one.”
“Son of a bitch one-upped me?” He stomped away, yelling Colt’s name and shouting something about pistols at dawn.
“How you holding up?” Milo asked, her eyes serious.
I sighed. “I’m good.”
“You look stressed.”
“I’m always stressed.”
“She’s back,” Milo said softly.
I gulped and braced myself against the doorway. “Yeah, caught that.”
“Just…” she squeezed my arm, “…if you need me, or need to talk… I’m here.”
“I know.” I bent down and kissed her forehead. “Love ya, sis.”
“Hey, Jason…” she reached out and grasped my hand, “please… be careful, all right?”
Too late.
“Sure,” I lied, and walked away feeling as if time was already against me.