Page 79 of Gin and Lava

Trifecta frowns, pulling away from my elbow, leering. “And Naomi’s alright with all that?” he scoffs, looking past me for confirmation from her that it’s not, only she’s chatting with the bridesmaid sitting next to her.

“She classes up my life for sure,” I nod, taking a drink of whatever fancy wine they bought for our table. “She’s got a side you probably don’t know about.”

Trifecta’s eyes narrow. “Really? A tight, wet t-shirt contest side?”

I laugh. “That’d be a sight! Not that I need a contest to see my fiancée’s tits.”

Trifecta’s plucked-eyebrows pinch, and his face darkens. That’sexactlywhat he thinks an asshole like me needs to come within ten feet of a girl like Naomi. In the past, I might’ve agreed with him, but it turns out being single at a wedding (single because he dumped her, I might add) makes our girl horny.

“Well …” Trifecta takes a pinched-nose sip from his wine, tossing his hair back like he’s about to school me on what country and region the wine’s from, and then bore me with the details about mouth feel and soil temperature or whatever bullshit they need to increase the price of grape juice. I’m not above telling him that the only mouth feel that matters to me is how my mouth feels when Naomi is coming against my face. But after a dramatic sip, Trifecta decides to go with, “I drive a Porsche.”

I almost laugh again. “Why?” I shake my head. “Isn’t that cramped? Didn’t you prefer to fuck in Naomi’s monster truck. Lord knows, I do.”

That makes him snap. All the angry blood in his body makes the veins in his pretty-boy neck bulge. “What’s wrong with you?” he barks. “Don’t talk about her like that!”

“She’s not your girlfriend anymore.”

“She’s still a lady!” he bites back.

“Hey, it ain’t like that,” I say calmly, trying to level with him, and motioning for him to calm down. Hysterical bouts of chivalry don’t look good on anyone, even Mr. January from the Hot Doc Calendar of the Month. “My dynamic with Naomi is different than yours,” I explain. “She knew I was a crass-talking tiki bar owner before we started dating. She’s well aware that my MO is to say shit like I just did—if not worse. She’s definitely heard me say worse. Maybe that’s why we work so well.”

Trifecta doesn’t like the sound of that, his hands balling up the napkin in his lap.

“Look,” I continue, well aware that every word out of my mouth is a poison dart. “She doesn’t ask me to change who I am, and I don’t ask her to change who she is.” I give him a pointed look. I’m not exactly surehowTrifecta asked Naomi to change who she was, but there’s a whole Barbie-doll person she’s dressed up as for this dinner. “We accept each other. There’s no need for all theI drive a Porsche and have an ivy league degreebullshit.”

Trifecta’s mouth purses together into the shape of a tiny pink asshole.

“Naomi cares,” Trifecta hisses. “I bet you didn’t even know that was an Andromeda dress she’s wearing.”

“True.” I nod, conceding him that point. “Of course, it’s not like she didn’t mention it three-hundred times.”

“A girl like that—”

“Drives a giant red monster truck,” I interrupt, “comes from East Texas, and fucks like she’s won every bull riding contest she was allowed to compete in.”

“That’s not who she is,” Trifecta scoffs.

“You can keep telling yourself that,” I counter. “And you can keep listing off all of your accomplishments. But that’s not going to change the fact that I’m her fiancé, and she wants to be with mewithout all that shit.”

“It won’t last,” Trifecta snips. “You think she won’t get sick of whatever this is?” He makes a motion to my whole person as if my existence offends him. He’s like every other asshole who’s wanted to put me in my place, as if fancy cars and degrees allow him to take up more space.

“You blew it with her,” I say, unaffected by his insult.

I’ve heard everything he’s said before. My skin is thick as steel when it comes to entitled snot rags like him—even if, deep down, I know Naomiwantsthe trifecta. Maybe not this dipshit, but someone like him, though I hope one that’s nicer.

“Maybe we took a break,” Trifecta asserts. “But I didn’t—”

“Move on!” I growl, squaring off my shoulders with him, even though we’re still sitting down. “Trust me, if you want to go into the back ally and pull out our cocks to see who has the bigger dick, I already know who’s going to win that contest. And I knew it from the look on your face when I made that multiple orgasm comment earlier.”

Trifecta turns red.

It shouldn’t feel good to pull the big-dick card on him. I know it’s just as lame as him telling me about his Porsche. But in real life—not this fake fiancé shit—my cock’s the onlyrealthing I have over him. It’s the one thing Naomi can’t get enough of.

“You’re a child!” Trifecta barks, pushing out his chair to remove himself from our conversation.

“We’re happy,” I retort as he stands up. “And let’s be clear: you dumped her, remember.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” he hisses with excess politeness like he’s trying to make a point, only his eyes shoot over my head to Naomi on my right. I feel her turn at the commotion of him standing up, and the glare he gives her would make anyone wither.

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