Page 6 of The Pursuit of Her Happiness

I snort, “No! Teeny Weenie Sturgill can find someone else to appreciate his vintage dick pics.” I drop my hand and level her with a look of disgust, “It was flaccid, Aud. Flaccid penises are not attractive! They’re sad.”

“I don’t know,” Aud picks up her purse from the bench, “when Keenan gets out of the shower and it’s swinging—”

“The fact that your man’s dick can swing, means he’s girth and length above Sad Sturgill.”

Audrey throws her head back and laughs as two out of the four boys fill the doorway, their eyes darting everywhere but us. “You have such a way with words, Quinn.”

I shrug, “It’s a gift.” I turn to Marco and Salvatore, “What did your brother do now?”

Marco swallows hard, his face flushing with annoyance and fear, “Enzo accidentally flushed Sammy’s meal toy down the shi—toilet after he dropped a rancid deuce. Sammy shoved his hand into the toilet to find it at the same time Enzo did and now they are both stuck.”

This is my life. In all its shitastic glory. “In the toilet?”

Audrey gags, “Their hands are in the toilet? Where the poop is?”

Sal shakes his head, “No, it was flushed, but they thought if they could reach far enough, they might be able to find the toy, like if it got stuck or something.”

“And instead, the two of them got stuck.” Both boys nod emphatically. “Right. Audrey, could you call Keenan, we might need him to smooth things over with the manager. And have him call Buchanan. We’re gonna need a plumber.”

“Quinn—”

“A $7 kids’ meal is about to cost me…” I have to think, “anywhere from $150 to $400.”

“Jesus, Quinn, how do you know that?”

“This isn’t the first time Enzo has gotten stuck in a toilet.”

Quinn 4.

“Sal, dude, give me some space.” My middle son, Salvatore, glances up at me, giving me some serious side-eye.

“Mom. Don’t say dude.”

“Why not? That’s all you three call me. I want one of those t-shirts that says, ‘Mommy, Mom, Bruh, Dude’.”

“We’ll get right on that.” Marco mumbles, yet neither of them moves from my side. They don’t know the details, but they’ve figured out that something happened at the clubhouse, and they are wary. We haven’t been here in over a week, which is completely unheard of since we came for Enzo and Sammy’s first playdate.

Around the back of the massive clubhouse, my lips twitch with the urge to smile, seeing pretty much the entire club outside enjoying the nice day. Of course, it dies when I remember what happened the last time I was here.

“Nope. Where’d that smile go, young lady?” I chuckle as Madison walks toward us, beer in hand. He wraps his free arm around my shoulders and pulls me to his side. I’ll admit, only to myself, I missed the President. He’s gruff, most of them are, but he has always been soft and sometimes sweet to me, plus he and I share a love of inappropriate humor. “Happy you’re here, Quinny.”

“So far, so good.” I shrug, stepping away when he releases me.

“We’ll talk later.” I nod, knowing I don’t have a choice. I’m not a member, but he is still the club president, and I’m on their turf. He walks back toward the grill, and I spot Betty and Stacy waving at me from a couple of long tables where they are putting out enough food to feed a small country.

“Take those over to Betty and Stacy.” I point the boys to the first lady and her bestie. “Make sure they put the Italian pasta salad on ice.” Marco and Sal trudge off, and I spin in a circle when I realize Enzo is missing. That little scamp.

“Quinn.” With a sigh, I slowly turn around to find Ford standing a couple of feet away. He frowns at my impassive expression. “What are you doing here?”

I glance around for anyone to save me. Fuck it, I’m Quinn fucking Palomeni, I don’t need saving. “I was invited,” I reply civilly.

“This is bullshit. You fucking punched me; you shouldn’t be here.” I open my mouth to respond, but he keeps going. “Look, I apologized to Adams for what I said, I shouldn’t have implied that he would be interested in you.” He leans in closer, offering me a condescending smirk, “Tell them you forgive me, and I can be reinstated.”

“Forgive you? For what? I don’t remember hearing an apology of any kind.”

“Don’t be difficult. Let’s just forget all that shit before and go back to being friends again.”

“Friends? Really?” How delusional is he?

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