Page 20 of Love on the Rocks

“So you're really not gonna be out very much are you?”

I nod. “Good point. I accept.”

“Besides, those bitches said something to Wren last year about being married to an old man. And they had a fucking field day when Clark and Logan accidentally said something about their brother being their mother’s ex-husband. Those moms are a bunch of nosy cunts and I’d like to hand them their asses. So for me, it's a win-win.”

“Say no more.” I toss my rag down on the counter and shout to the back corner at Brody, “I'm running an errand.” Before he even says anything I'm out the door with Griffin.

Griffin drives an old model extended cab truck. It's not fancy, but it gets the job done. Scott is sitting in the back so I climb in the front bench seat and Griffin peels off towards the elementary school. Normally, the dads show up just in time to grab the kids and go. Yeah, I'm stereotyping, but typically it's the moms who show up early. I don't know if it's peer pressure or if it's anxiety, but even Bess shows up fifteen minutes before she even needs to just to wait around for Jack to get out of class.

Naturally, there are no other dads there when the three of us show up, which means all of the moms turn to look at us. I don't wanna brag, but we're three decent-looking guys. Scott is young and by all definitions, very attractive. Hell, he is still beingscouted by the major leagues, even though he made it clear he is not going to the pros. Griffin, at fifty-two, could pass for a man in his late thirties, maybe it's chasing around all those kids or chasing around his thirty-four-year-old wife, but the man seems to have stopped aging. I'd like to think at forty-two, I'm not far off from that myself.

The men we were talking about, however, are balding, have a bit of a beer belly, and are generally a bit doughy. In other words, it's not hard to catch their wives’ attention. I follow Griffin’s lead since he is the more devious of the three of us. He starts a conversation with Scott about baseball, naturally. They start talking about next year's college draft, and who he thinks might go where. Then they start talking about the upcoming major league season, and who he thinks the favorite is to win the World Series. Being this close to Seattle, I start arguing that the Mariners are going to win it all even though I know that they won't because they haven't been close for a very long time. Griffin argues something else probably just because he's an asshole and he likes to be contrary. Scott's choice is based on statistics and actual facts and data.

The entire time, the Stepford moms, inch closer and closer to us. They are both brazen and stupid, and Griffin gives them an opening to say something about women who work at a bar.

Thinking that we might agree that women should stay home with the children, the adult version of Regina George speaks up. “You poor thing,” she says, and reaches out and touches my forearm. Without being too obvious, I pull my arm back. “I'm sure you wish your wife would stay home with your son. It must be hard, knowing that the other kids taunt him at school.”

Griffin and Scott move on either side of me, but I don't need their backup. I know exactly what I want to say. “Well, I'm sureyou ladies would like to have husbands that don't wanna fuck my wife, but we can't all have what we want. And, I like having my wife by my side every second of the day. It's very,convenient.”

I don't think she misses the innuendo layered into the last word. “I know you think that it's somehow low-class for my wife to spend all of her time at a bar, but you must have forgotten that we own that bar. My wife is not some waitress slinging drinks all day. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But still, she's a businesswoman with a degree. She doesn't spend her days doing fundraisers and buying sweater sets. She has an actual job. So why don't you worry about controlling your husbands, and pull your noses out of my wife's ass. Have the day you deserve.”

Her mouth drops open. “Well, I never,” she says indignantly.

“Get used to it bitch,” Griffin snaps. “Oh, and because I know you were so curious, yes, my wife used to be my daughter-in-law.”

Now all their mouths fall open. They turn to each other and start whispering.

Scott shrugs. “My wife is twelve years older than me, and she used to be married to my ex-coach. But you know what? At least we all want to have sex with our wives.”

Griffin looks at Scott. “That's a really good point. I mean it kind of sucked when Wren was my son’s wife, but now that she's mine it's totally cool.”

“There is something wrong with all three of you,” the head bitch says.

“You have no right to judge us. I had to throw your husbands out of my bar because they went into graphic detail about how they wanted to have relations with our wives. I might own a bar,Griffin might have a lot of grease under his nails, and Scott—well Scott is young, but at least we don't go around saying nasty things about other people’s wives.”

Griffin shakes his head. “No, we just say nasty things to our own, and do them.”

“Not helping Griff,” I say.

“I so don't give a shit,” he says.

“Language,” the principal hisses as she walks past.

He winces. “Sorry, Mrs. Pepper,” he apologizes.

He turns to me and says, “I'm gonna end up having to volunteer for the school bazaar again. I really have to learn to stop cussing in the building.”

“You should learn to stop cussing around children,” I whisper.

“You are a bunch of Neanderthals,” one of the moms snaps.

Scott takes a step forward. He's taller than the two of us and a lot taller than them. “I've known people like you my entire life. You put up with the crap your husbands pull because for the area, they make pretty good money. You're not rich but you're comfortable. You've got more money than most of your friends. I doubt you even like each other, but you're on the same socioeconomic level, so it makes sense that you hang out together. When it's just two of you together, you talk about the other ones, am I right?”

They look at each other, suspiciously. Each knowing that he is telling the truth.

He smirks. “You don't have to answer. You all know I'm telling the truth, and now you'll never trust each other again. You'rewelcome. My point is, the one thing you respect is money. You see their older cars, so you've labeled them as blue-collar, and therefore their opinion doesn't matter. You don't care that they own their own businesses. You've never worked in your life, but you have disposable income because of your husbands. Bess has gone to college and owns her own business, but you still think you're better than her because, in your mind, you have more money. Your friends have more influence. What if you found out that they ran in circles with millionaires and billionaires would that change your perception?”

They look at each other and seem to come to a group consensus that Scott is bullshitting them. “Like they know anyone that rich.”

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