“Fuck off, Luke!” This time, it’s Grace and her nasally brat voice.
“You know he’s gold fucking standard,” I snarl. “You fucking know it. And you know he’s soft on you because you’re flexible and have long legs, so you play with him, you keep him as your backup, and each time you move on from something else, you come to him hoping some of his gold will rub off. Except, ya know what? Shit, wrapped in rose petals, is still shit, ya fucking turd! You’re addicted to dick, you’re the eternal victim, and you have the attention span of a goldfish, which means that even though you know he’s fucking awesome, you can’t chill the fuck out and do the right thing by him. You won’t do the right thing till you’re forty and your tits sag. Except, by then, this motherfucker will be married up and sucking on real titties.”
“Luke.” Rob sways in the shower and grabs onto the curtain rod for stability. “First of all, I’m right here, I can hear all that backup plan bullshit. Second, go away. I’m busy.”
“No, you’re fucking not.” I reach into the shower, probably commit a couple felonies when my hand is too near a woman’s body without her permission, and killing the heat, I wait for the cold to hit them.
In three, two…
“Agh!” Grace slams against the wall with a thud, then begins sliding around when her feet can’t find purchase.
Rob, being the eternal fucking hero, even when he’s blackout drunk, catches her, and doesn’t flinch at the icy cold water as I wipe my wet arm on a towel.
“Get out of that fucking shower,” I growl, “send the slut home, then we’ll go out and find you some quality poonani. You have twenty minutes to be at the front door in something that’ll make the chicks look twice. If you’re not, I’m coming back, but we’ll be sparring.”
I push out of the bathroom, and into the hall, and because I’m a prick, I leave the bathroom door wide open so Grace has to do the run of shame in the nudie.
I take zero pleasure in seeing her white ass run. But her squeak and humiliation sure is a nice perk for a Friday night.
For the next fifteen minutes, Rob and Grace fight. Something about how I’m an asshole, and how Grace is sick of my shit. Rob fires back that yeah, Luke’s an asshole, but we’re best friends, and it’s his job to love me anyway. Grace wants him to love her the way she deserves – she doesn’t deserve shit, if you ask me – and to do that, he needs to move into his own place and leave me behind.
“Fuck off, Risotto!” I lay on my bed in the room beside Rob’s, and grin while they dress and argue. “Rob and I shared womb water, you dumb bitch. That bond can’t be broken.”
“Fuck you, Luke! Mind your own business.”
“You’re in my home, stupid. Arguing with my womb-buddy. It’s alllll my business.”
“Can you shut up?” Rob stops at my door, sobering the longer he has to listen to Grace’s tantrum. His eyes are hooded and tired, but he still manages a grin when I flip him off. “You’re escalating the situation.”
“I’m gonna escalate the fuck outta this shit,” I declare. “An hour from now, a new chick is gonna be riding your cock. And I bet if I gave her a dollar, she’ll wave to Risotto as she watches from outside.”
“I’m gonna kick your ass,” Rob barks when something hits the wall and shatters in the room beside mine. “I will straight up end your life.”
“Fine by me. But first, you’ll thank me.” I sit up on my bed and flash a wide grin. “Get rid of her. I’m gonna put it in my will that you don’t get our Tazo collection unless she’s permanently removed from your life.”
“Shut up, Luke!” Risotto throws the motherlode of all tantrums in Rob’s room so that the walls rattle and shit breaks. “How can you people be identical, but one of you be such an asshole?”
“Who knows? How can most chicks be cool and beautiful and smart, but then we get you, the brain-dead slut?”
“Dude!” Rob wipes a hand over his face. “You’re cleaning my room when this is finished.”
“Suits me. I’ll clean while a new chick is sucking you off.”
“I hate you.” He pushes away from my door and heads back to his. “Grace. You need to go home. I’ll call you tomorrow, since we still have shit to talk about, but—”
“He won’t call you tomorrow! He’ll be sleeping on a pair of real titties, exhausted from the eleventeen orgasms he had overnight because his new woman won’t be selfish in bed. They’ll be fair in exchanging orgasms, unlike you, you hoarding bitch. You think I haven’t heard him get you off seven times in one night, but he only does the grunt thing once in all that time? You think I didn’t count?”
“You are fucking weird,” Rob snarls. “For fuck’s sake, Luke. Shut up.”
“I will not be silenced!” I roar, because I love escalating a tense situation. If I had a jousting lance right now, you bet your ass I’d be running the hall with it. “Get out, Risotto. We got places to be!”
“You.” Rob sits beside me at the bar inside a dance club named Rhino’s. “Are.” He takes a shot, and drops the glass back on the counter. “A pain in my fuckin’ ass.”
“Drink up.” I push four more shots closer to his hand and grin. I’m already half drunk, and Grace’s flounce out of our apartment an hour or so ago turns funnier as I take each new shot. “She’s got fake tits, right? You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Mm.” He tosses back another shot and makes an ahhhhh sound as it slides down his throat. “They’re not real. But they look good, so—”
“Y’all!” I spin on my barstool and shout, “Grace Risotto has fake tits, hair extensions, and a black heart. I don’t think she’s even that good in bed, because my brother only gets to come, like, once for every eight he gives her. The ratio is off!” I burp loud and obnoxious. “The fucking ratio is off!”
“You are gonna get your ass tossed out if you don’t pull it together.” Rob grabs my shoulder and spins me back around so fast that my whiskey swirls, and my brain takes a second to spin with the rest of me. “Quit ya bullshit and stop being the crazy one for once.”
“Why are you so stuck on her, huh? Why Grace Alfredo?”
“Risotto. And you know why. Shit is going down, and—”
“The ratio is off!”
“I still come, you idiot. I don’t love her. I’m not attached to her. I just… it’s complicated. And it’s not your fucking job to chase her off every single time my phone beeps and her name pops up.”
“I can’t even do that anymore! You changed her name in your phone so I wouldn’t know. You think I wouldn’t notice?”
“I think you and I have an extremely unhealthy codependence. We’re not in the same fucking womb anymore, dummy. We’re grown-ass men who need to live separate, grown-ass lives.”
“Don’t have to,” I grumble and take another shot. “We’re happy the way things are. You, me, and our psycho cat.”