Page 12 of The Pursuit of Her Happiness

“Is that what you kids are calling it these days?” I hiss at Lincoln, not appreciating his joke. At the bar, I slap the bar top for a drink. I throw the shot back and slap my hand for another. I hear the door open, but I’m too busy wincing through another shot.

“No more setting me up with guys from your gym, Betty Helga Powell.”

“Not my name.”

“No more setting me up, period. I’ll find my own dates, thank you very much! I’ll say one thing for Lenny Bro Dude…that boy cankiss!” Stacy cheers, clapping her hands as she bounces on her toes.

“God dammit!”I whip my head toward the door just in time to see Polk slam it open and stomp out. My boys stand in the doorway, staring after Polk in shock, before turning to me with various expressions of disgust.

“Gross, mom. Don’t talk about kissing.”

“Ha! Did a lot more than kiss to get the three of you!” Marco does not appreciate that in the least, following Polk outside. “Wait outside with your brother, boys. I’ll be right there.” I don’t want them in here while Buck is…going buck wild.

“Sammy! Upstairs.”

“But Mumzie—”

“Upstairs.”

“Yes, Pops.” Sammy and Enzo engage in some elaborate handshake, then Sammy puts a hand up to block his view of the clubroom and runs full tilt to the stairs.

“Quinn, be honest. Did you have a good time tonight?” Audrey takes my hands in hers, her expression so earnest and hopeful.

“That kiss…we aren’t in the same place in life, so the date was a dead end. But Lenny…he reminded me that I’m a desirable woman. And I didn’t know how much I needed that.”

Audrey looks at the front door, then back to me with a knowing smile. I don’t like it. “I have a feeling you’re gonna be reminded of that often…thoroughly…and loudly.”

I feel my eyebrow rise in confusion, “What?”

“Nothing. Boys’ bags are by the door. They stuffed their faces with food and did their homework. I’ll see ya soon, bestie.” She kisses my cheek, then heads upstairs to join Sammy.

I walk over to Betty, draw her in for a hug, and squeeze extra tight for funsies. “Thank you, honorable first lady.”

“I was hoping you’d get a kiss on your south mouth.”

“Jesus, Betty.” I bark a laugh as I pull back. “Life’s full of disappointments.”

Quinn 7.

“Mom, please?” I hate when my kids beg. Mostly because I usually give in and it’s ALWAYS something I don’t want to do. Case in point: I am about to accept the position of coach for a Destination Imagination team I didn’t want to be a part of in the first place. Sal doesn’t ask much, but when the principal asked me to come lend a hand, I should have known it would mean my downfall.

“I hate this.” I mutter to him, his eyes dance with amusement. Punk.

“I know. But you’re gonna do it anyway, because the other coach is an idiot, and you hate to lose.”

“I used to change your diaper.”

“And I’m sure I’ll be changing yours before our time together is through.”

“Where is my precious baby boy?”

“The Congressionals.” He has a point. The men of the Congressionals MC have been amazing influences on my boys. Male role models they desperately need. And yet…

“Alright, kids, we’re gonna meet three days a week after school, two hours at a time. Competition is in exactly three months, two weeks, and five days. That doesn’t leave us a lot of time to writea script, create portable set designs, costumes, and practice. So, we’ll meet back here on Wednesday. Be ready to work.”

Sal grins at me, knowing he’s won, while the three girls and one boy grumble. You don’t want to win, don’t sign up for a competition. I might be…mightbe a tad bit competitive. And I won’t apologize for it.

“Come on, Bernie Madoff, I’m taking you to your dad’s.”

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