Page 101 of Sex. Love. Marriage.
I fight back the tears and rest my head against his chest. “She’s always with us.”
(Don’t let Bonner promote your business.)
ONCE WE RETURNhome from Austin, I swear I will never go on another road trip with kids. Ever. I also trade Kelly’s Expedition in for a new one for her. We can’t necessarily afford a new car, but you get a good deal on it when your brother is trying to get on your good side.
He tells me Xianna left him and I say, “Good. She deserves better than you.”
“You can have your job back,” he adds, just before I leave with the new car.
Turning to face him, I catch sight of the shop, Ryker, and the madness in there. “No, thanks.”
And then I leave. I don’t like my brother or his decisions, but he’s still my brother. It pays to have connections in the car business. And in porn, apparently.
I should have known when Bonner said, “I’ll help you out.” Just like I should have listened when he said, “Here, try this pill,” or even, “Make a sex tape.” I also didn’t listen when he said, “Let’s torch HOA lady’s lawn.” Which, by the way, I ended up cutting our grass when we returned because we lost Fin in it. I guess two foot tall grass is a little much, but it’s the principle behind it, damn it.
Back to Bonner. I let him advertise for me. You can imagine his connections, right?
It’s worse than you’re thinking. Believe me. Or don’t.
It starts when I return from picking up Kelly’s new car. Pulling into the shop, I’m met with Bonner leaning against a Cadillac. He’s smiling, and that’s never a good sign in my experience.
Cautiously, I get out of the car. “What are you doing here?”
He uncrosses his arms and shoves them in the pockets of his shorts. “You said you needed business. A friend found this one. Needs an engine, I think.” He moves around the front of the car. “Think ya can fix it?”
I follow him to the front where I lift the hood. “Did he steal it?”
“No.” He laughs. “But I could get you those too if needed.”
“I’d like to stay legal,” I mumble, checking the car out. After some inspecting, it needs a new transmission.
None of that is as interesting as what comes next. There’s a scratching noise while we’re driving it around town. When we return to the shop, I check it out and wish I hadn’t.
In the midst of us returning, Jason shows up with a six-pack. “What are you doing here?” I ask, wondering why he showed up at noon with beer on a Tuesday.
“We’re celebrating the grand opening,” he says, cracking open a beer.
Bonner takes a beer from him, his eyes on the back of the Cadillac where the noise is coming from. “He’s been open for a month.”
“Better late than never.” Jason shrugs it off. “What’s that noise?”
I walk around the back of the car, and the noise gets louder. “Where did you get this car from?”
Bonner’s grins. “A buddy of mine. Maybe we shouldn’t open the trunk. I have a feeling something might be in there.”
Jason stands beside us and smiles. “Maybe it’s a dildo?”
I glance over at Bonner, then the trunk. “Is the dude a porn star?”
Bonner’s grin turns into a smirk. Before you go telling me a grin and a smirk are the same thing, I’m gonna go ahead and disagree with you. They’re different. “He’s a director,” he says, lifting the beer to his lips.
I don’t have time to mess around with this shit, so I pop the trunk open and wish I hadn’t. Can you guess what’s in the trunk?
No?
I’ll save you the trouble. It’s a fucking monkey. In the trunk. That’s not the worst part. Somehow—and I’m sure you can guess how given the owner of the car’s line of work—but the monkey is eating Viagra out of a bag like they’re fucking Skittles.
“Nope.” I slam the lid to the trunk. “Get this car out of here.”
